So Basically This Is the story of A girl Who refused to cry a river. I've been writing this for a while since I read Scars by Laurie Anderson (GREAT READ BTW) basically this is Britney, she is one 'effed up chick. (no offense) she is part my own experinces and thoughts and part Scars main character whose name I caint place at the moment;/ so there you have it I have up to chapter 12 written all ready but I don't want to bog down my computer and my hands hurt from typing "the story of us" all day.
HAPPY READINGS
I lay in the midst of my cold bedroom in front of a wide open window. With no one to talk to I felt alone. I was sore partially from the day's physical activity, partiality from the unjust beating I had just received. The dark sky in front of me light only by the small amount of moonlight that reached out through the trees. I counted the shades of grey that made the scenery of my front yard. Light escaped from my window painting the foot tall grass in front of our small double wide. I listened to my mother scream her random hypocrisy at our guests "I would never hit a child!" she lied to them. "I raised my kids well" she screamed her slander across our house.
Raise? Raise My Ass! Once I wasn't cute and cuddly she left me at the mercy of him. I was nothing more than his toy for 3 years! Three Fucking Years! But you didn't stop him did you mum? No you didn't you didn't care. I was out of your way! She didn't care, as long as I wasn't irritating her. When I told her she said I was a liar. It didn't stop till I stopped it! I was forced alone to wake up to his face, there lies, I was forced to pretend everything was fine. When nothing is fine nothing is alright. I'm burnt out and I'm tired. My life is supposed to be different!
I've got a question for all you "Jesus-Freaks". Where was your "God"? What kind of "trial" is this? Physical, Emotional, And Sexual abuse, alone ugly, broken? Where was your "God"? The Great merciful all powerful God that for so long I thought cared? Where was He? Where is He now?
A loud clamor burst through my door 'damn it I need to lock that more often' I thought. My brother burst into my room interrupting my rant to the landscape. Terror struck me. I pointed my feet clenched my stomach, and flexed every muscle in my peculiarly strong body. I was officially alert.
"Get to bed you worthless Bitch!" He called across the room. The word irked me so much I wanted to slap the taste out of his mouth but I couldn't move. I stayed stiff. Yep that was me, the worthless bitch. My light cut off, my door slammed, and I was left alone in the darkness. My body loosened and I shifted up into bed carefully. Knowing where every needle, every razor, every scissor blade, even the large shard of glass that was close to stabbing into my left calve. I lay back surrounding myself with them. I smiled surrounded by my lovers.
I closed my eyes and imagined a face, putting each piece intricately in order, unique and proportional. I barely noticed my hand grasping a blade skillfully painting the picture into my lower right arm. Until I recognize the face. The blade drops onto the bed next to me. I ached for sleep, blood pouring out of my arm into a puddle around me, like a red river into a dead sea.
So there you have it, I know it didn't start describing all the characters I hate books that start that was so I refuse to start mine, but don't worry I'm an imagery freak!
-*REVIEWS ARE LOVE*-
