Maybe, If I cut deeper; I wouldn't have to cut anywhere else.

But the feeling felt good. Better that sex, so as my best friend, Katie, told me.

One word. Addict.

Everyone is addicted to something.

Me, Cutting.

Katie, Sex.

Everyday, she'd give someone a blowjob. I never really thought about it. Just one moment after my mother left for her business trip, and left me with my step dad.

Rape.

It hurt… he never gave me his warning. Looking back gave me the need to cut deeper.

So I did. I cut deeper. I never told her. Even when I tried. She never had the time. But he. Him. He had lots of time to torture me in any way he could think of. I was… I was his sex toy. My mother had no clue until he was arrested after I told my school counselor about the rape.

After they police let him go, My school counselor never spoke to me, nor anyone. I'm guessing, she was raped as well. I bet it hurt. Even more than me. Because, she never came back. He killed her, and he's looking for me.

But for my mother; it was too late. He found her when I was on a airplane to Georgia. She died because she refused to tell him where I was. So, he slit he throat, and hung her, as the blood dripped. He blamed it on me.

The police fell for it. "She ran away, and I found her mother like this when I came home" was what he told them.

I changed my name, and they lost my files. I started over. But he wasn't over me yet. He knew I was still out there. I currently live with Katie, and her abusive, drug addicted mother.

I cut deeper, and deeper. The bathroom mirror was covered in blood. Katie's mom didn't mind. She was never home.

Katie was never home either. Like I said. Sex Addict.

After a good cut. I just laid on the bathroom floor; I watched the blood crawl to the stained carpet. The 9th time I cut this week. Good.

I hid the cuts with my black long sleeves. Last time I wore white was before the rape. Real dad left me when I was only 1 week old. My mom found Pete 4 years later. 4 months after they got married, I was raped. 5 years old. Can you imagine a 5 year old getting raped?

It hurts, doesn't it?

But that was only 11 years ago. 'Bet he's still looking for me. But I've changed. He won't recognize me. I went from a blonde to a brunette., and I wear brown contacts.

Friday. School. More harassment. Katie got kicked out. But I still had a future. Barely.

9th grade.

"Rebecca?" Mr. Reese looked up.

"Yeah?" I answered.

"Do you know anyone by 'Pete Rogers'?"

Pete Rogers. Him. Did he find me? I felt my heart beat faster and faster. Faster than the clock by seconds. Faster than he raped me.

"No," I nodded.

I felt a tap on my shoulders. I winced.

"Whoa, I didn't mean to hurt you"

Noah. He was the one I fell for. I'm still falling for him.

"So yeah, do you need a ride home? Katie texted me that she's a little busy tonight," He chuckled.

"And every other night," I sighed, "Yeah, I'd like a ride home… Actually, my place is gonna get crowded. You know how Katie is after nights of sex. Do you think I can stay at your house?"

"Sure, my parents won't mind. Plus, they're going to a show"

"Thanks."

The bell rang. I went to my locker.

Him. He was there. Pete.

I tried not to look at him in the eyes.

"Amanda, I know. I know everything," He smirked.

I turned around; trying to pretend that he's talking to someone behind me, "Excuse me? Are you talking to me?"

"Don't play shit with me. You remember me," He caressed my cheek. That touch. It brang back nightmares.

I slapped his hand off of my cheek, "I'm not Amanda. I don't even know you. Just leave me alone jackass."

"Hmm. Let's see about that," he grabbed my ass.

"STOP!!!!!" everyone in the hallway stared at us. The pressure was over whelming me. Tears started to build in my eyes, I ran for it.

I heard someone's footsteps follow me.

I turned around, "LEAVE ME ALONE!:

"It's just me, it's me!" Noah cradled me in his arms.

"I'm gonna drop you off, okay?"

"No, stay with me. I'm scared." I shivered. I looked behind him. He's gone. Pete's gone. I took a deep breath.

Noah stopped his car at his 2 story house, "Rebecca. Who were you running away from? Well, what were you running away from?"

"What do you mean 'what'? You saw him!!"

"Who?" he asked.

"HIM!!! The guy with the leather jacket, and the scar on his cheek! He has a tattoo on his neck!"

"No," he nodded, "I didn't see anyone"

"What?" I could've sworn I saw him. I even felt his touch. I smelt his breathe. Smelt like he drank a 6 pack.

"Yeah, I didn't see anything. I talked to John; he said that he saw everything. He said that you were talking to yourself." he worried.