A/N So first off let me tell you that I'm putting my stories, So You Think You Can Dance and Gone to Texas on hiatus in order to write this story. Second, I want to say that this is mayeighteenthisevil, I just had to change my name cause there were some problems. Third, each chapter in this story will have a song starting with the next one. The songs are from the sixties, maybe one from the seventies. You will find out later why. And fourth, this is kind of based off of a true story. I've obviously changed the names and I've changed some of the events to protect the inoccent. So enjoy and if you read, please review. Chapter one will be up soon.
Intro
I hate my life.
I hate the way everyone thinks that they're so perfect and they care what everyone else thinks of them. I hate the way that Newport is so stuck up and shallow, that the only thing people care about is whether they would look good in this dress or that. I hate the way everyone tries to know everything about a person, the way gossip is spread as quickly as a blink of an eye. I hate the way my mom pretends she cares about me when I know she doesn't, the way that she has this fake smile and fake laugh that she's always using out in public. I hate being scrutinized by everyone. I hate school and the preps and the jocks and the cheerleaders and the math nerds and the band geeks and everyone else. I hate everything, I just do. It's a fact to everyone, everyone knows that I hate them. No one bothers to ask me to the mall or over to their house for a makeover or to eat lunch with them at school. No one cares.
But most of all out of everything I hate home. I hate that my mom has a new boyfriend an that he's living with us after them only knowing each other for a month. I hate that he is going bald even though he's only in his forties and that he has this really obnoxious laugh. I can't stand that when he smiles his yellow teeth are shown and that he's always looking at me. I hate the way his hand feels against my skin when he touches me. I hate the way he looks at me across the room, the way he puts his hand a little too low on my back when he's around me. And late at night when he comes into my room and holds his hand over my mouth and starts undressing me, his disgusting and dirty hands touching me and making me feel so alone and empty, I hate him. He always has his way with me and then he leaves and whispers to me that if I tell anyone, he'll kill me.
And I'm always left in my room, usually bleeding, and feeling dirty. But no matter how many times I take a shower, it doesn't go away. I still feel like somehow I've done something wrong. Maybe if I never looked at him, maybe if I never smiled or laughed with him he wouldn't have gotten the wrong idea and done this to me. I always cry, which I hate myself for because I shouldn't show a sign of weakness. I shouldn't show signs that I care. Because I don't care anymore. It's like I'm a nothing, invisible, lost, alone, empty. I feel like there's nothing anyone can do for me anymore because I'm already so far gone, I already hate everyone so much that it doesn't matter what anyone does. I never thought anyone could piece me back together.
But he did. He picked me up when I was down, put me back together and made me feel new and fresh. This is his story, our story. But get those tissues ready, because I'm pretty sure that you'll cry.