Hey there, I'm BlameItOnBeingGemini and I have a werewolf/OC obsession. That's okay though because I think all of us here do. We're in a safe place here, you can give in to your desire. ;)
I'll chat with you more below!

Warning: Dark themes, proceed with caution

Disclaimer: I do not own twilight or it's respected characters, I do, however, own my many OCs.

Clearly, clearly I remember
Days of useless crying
Almost feeling dead

Monsters aren't always what goes bump in the night or what lies under your bed, sometimes monsters are the things inside of you. The things that you put yourself through, for my mom it was dancing with the monster itself, for me it was self-hatred, but I like to call her Ana.

It's corrupt when you can't remember a time when hate didn't consume you, or when you can't think of a better relief than slicing your skin open, or a better accomplishment than seeing your bones jut out of your skin almost slicing you as well as the razor does.

I know this is irrational but I can't stop, I'm not strong enough for that.

I remember the first time one of mom's prince charming's snuck into my room, I was nine. Mom was knocked out I don't remember if it was because he knocked her out, or if she was just that high with the monster. I couldn't remember his name, or his facial features, but I remember his eyes.

They looked like my mom's; I soon realized that it was the monster. He kept muttering how pretty I was and trying to cuddle me, this sometimes happened before but usually if I stayed far enough away they left me alone and left the house, but he was persistent, and soon I was tainted.

I tried telling my mother, but she didn't believe me, I cried myself to sleep that night, and many more to come, but it didn't take long until before the tears ran dry. I began looking into the mirror with nothing in my eyes besides hate. I hated what I saw, I thought that maybe if I lost five pounds I'd like what I saw just a little more.

But as all stories involving Ana go, five pounds became ten and it just continued escalating from there. One meal here and there became all the meals and then throwing up when I wasn't strong enough to avoid them.

Calorie counting became automatic, and the real kicker is that my mom witnessed my dance, and did nothing.

It was okay though because once I was perfect everything would work out, but as I waited for perfection slicing my skin open helped ease the ache. I needed to feel my bones, needed to feel the ache in my stomach as it begged for food, needed to feel the razor cut as it sliced my pale skin.

The only solace I found was in dancing and the other people who were on crash diets admired my small frame. It made me feel good, when I became of age I ran away from my mom, but all the bad memories chased me. I kept dancing though; at least it kept the monsters away for a little bit.

Hey, there, again. Are you still with me? Or did you tune out in the middle of the story, let me know by pressing that little blue button on the bottom, and yes that is my desperate plea for you to review. Was it that obvious? The next chapter is in third person, here's a little sneak preview!

The others just looked on bored not understanding the appeal of seeing people dance, but everything changed when a solo performer came on. She was a petite blonde, she couldn't have been taller than 5'4 and her body was thin and straight though you could see the muscles in her legs as she danced.

Her body moved gracefully across the stage, it was a beautiful performance, but it wasn't until she locked eyes with one of the men that he became interested. The man stilled, his entire body tensed as his world became clearer, brighter somehow. His whole outlook on life changed the moment he saw her.

Does that get you excited? No? Yes? I hope so! I'll probably upload tomorrow or maybe later today if I give, keep a heads up, well that's all I have to say!

Much love, stay flawed and gorgeous,
Xoxo,
BlameItOnBeingGemini