Okay, so long story short, I'm rewriting this story. I didn't really have a clear idea of what I wanted this story to be at first, and now that I do, I feel a bit more confident in writing this story. Some things have been changed, such as Sierra and Emerson's background and their relationship with their parents, but hopefully it's still just as enjoyable. I'm doing a double update to kick this reboot off, so please enjoy and review! ~Shaymie
"And just as stories go,the people will run far away. But I don't blame them being way too afraid. The world was just not made to love someone like me."
Sierra's POV
I was a monster. Plain and simple. Anyone could tell that just by looking at me. My mother hated me. My father wouldn't even look at me, which was probably best for his safety. The only person who ever gave me the time of day was my sister, and that was probably just because she pitied me. Poor, little Sierra who was nothing but a freak of nature.
I was a nobody. I wasn't allowed to leave the house. If it wasn't for Emerson, I wouldn't even be allowed to leave my room. Such a sad existence for a sad little creature such as myself.
Emmy brought me outside was the start of everything changing, though I couldn't tell if it was for the better or not. She snuck me out while our parents were at work and took me to a place called a "mall". I didn't like it there. Everyone stared at me. I heard their whispers, even when Emmy tried to distract me by showing me things. It was a bad idea, doomed from the start. I did nothing but draw attention to us. Eventually we got kicked out. Apparently I was a distraction to others who were trying to shop, though I hadn't even done anything.
"They're just jealous," Emmy tried to reassure me on the drive home. "They only wish they could look like you. Different isn't a bad thing, sweetie."
"It's not just how I look. It's what I can do… There's a reason I was locked up, Emmy."
I locked myself in my room that night and took out the pack of razors I had stolen from my parents' bathroom. Nothing would change if I died, right? Nobody would care. Nobody even knew I existed.
I heard someone downstairs angrily slamming dishes into the dishwasher. Mom and Dad were yelling at Emmy about something. I could hear my cat scratching anxiously at my bedroom door. Yeah, nobody would care if I died aside from my cat and Emmy. That was enough to solidify the decision, and I angrily cut across my skin.
At least this way, I can't hurt anyone