GASP! Yay, a new story. I had the idea for this one for a loonng time. Since like… September. I hope you like it. Ps, this story deals with child abuse so if that is a sensitive subject for you, I don't suggest you read this.

Sorry this chapter is so short. -Alice xoxo

Chapter One:

It was raining. But it wasn't the sound of the water droplets hitting the window that gave it away. It was both the awful musty smell of a leaky ceiling and the dampness of the attic that did. I would have loved to sleep, but the coldness of my makeshift room was preventing me from doing so.

The old, misshaped, bed squeaked as I changed position, trying to get comfortable. But it was no use, I could feel the broken springs on the mattress stabbing into my back. The floor would have been more restful.

I felt the tears prick at my eyes. I cried every night before I fell asleep. Why? I asked my self. Why did all the terrible things that is ever possible to happen to someone happen to me? It wasn't fair. Why was I kidnapped when I was seven? Why did my parents get divorced? Why did my mom marry an alcoholic? Why was my birth dad murdered when he was trying to get custody of me? Why, why, why?

The tears where pouring now, and since I was lying on my back, they where sliding down the sides of my face and into my ears. I didn't care though. The pain was too much to bear.

Pain.

I leaned over the side of my bed and grabbed a toothpick that I had stolen from the kitchen and held it into the fire of the candle on the table until it captured some of the flame. I watched as the wood burned for a few seconds and then blew it out before pressing the hot wood to the inside of my wrist. There would be a red mark, but I knew I could do better than that. Tomorrow…

I blew the candle out before I tried to get comfortable in my bed.

--

Out of instinct, I got up at five thirty in the morning. I had to make breakfast for my parents before they got up at six.

I rolled out of bed and went down the two flights of stairs to the kitchen. The sun hadn't come up yet, so the room was dark. I traced my had along wall to find the light switch and flicked it on when I did.

Making breakfast for my parents was the worst part of the day. 9 times out of 10, they get pissed because I don't make them what they want. How the hell am I suppose to know what the hell they want when they don't tell me?

I sighed and went around the kitchen, gathering the ingredients for pancakes. At least my parents like them, and hopefully I wont get yelled at this morning.

My mom and step-father came down almost exactly two minutes after I was finished making their breakfast. Obviously, I wasn't aloud to have any. So I sat on the kitchen floor and ate cheerio's without milk. It's strange that dry cereal should make me cry.

When my parents go up stairs to take a shower, then I know it's safe to go clean up the table.

After I was finished with that, I went back upstairs to get dressed. I didn't have nice clothes, of course and the ones that I do have are way to small for me. When I wear the only jeans that I have, I can barely breathe, and all of the shirts I have are far too short.

I heard the sound of the front door close, signaling that my parents had left, and that it was ok for me to leave. I have to stay out of their way because they don't like to see much of me. They say that I am a repulsive disgrace to the family.

I was glad that it was raining as I walked to school, so no one could see my tears. Not like there where many people to see me anyway.

Why? I kept asking myself. Why, why, why? I didn't notice I took a wrong turn until I was standing in front of a tattoo shop. Maybe it wasn't an accident that I ended up there. Maybe it was fate. Destiny. Kismet. Or just a strange, random thing that happened.

I was eighteen. I was old enough. I looked down at my wrist and asked myself the same question I have been asking myself for as long as I could possibly remember, why, before pushing the door open and entering.