4.20.10

I fucking hate my room, it sucks. I've been staring at those happy perky teddy bears forever. I hate them. My door is pretty irritating now too. It's the ultimate symbol of freedom. It could be the door to my future, but instead it's the doorway to nowhere. It's my in-between; I could stay in my room and do nothing, or walk out and stay in this house. It's even more horrible because of been staring at it for the past six hours. I'm grounded; sixteen and they treat me like I'm twelve. Angelique and Alexandre Margo, damn they annoy me. I already know they half hate me, because you can never fully hate your child, but they're damn close to. I know, what the fuck did I do for such strong feelings of resentment? I got some ink, well leopard spots going from my lower back to my neck, a full sleeve, a full leg, and some others. And got some studs. Well it wasn't a big deal to me, but since I 'didn't have permission' (what the hell?) I'm under surveillance. Just then I started to hear footsteps coming towards my door, feathered small feet.

"I hope you know I'm still fucking here, Mom." I yelled at her through the door. I really hope she heard me. I'm being held captive in this shitty room. These damn black walls are bruising my memory. She burst through my door like a hurricane, her hair in a tight ponytail, wearing jeans and a t-shirt. And a face filled with fury.

"Tragique Angele Margo, I don't know who you think you're talking to. But I am not one of your friends, or these boys that come after you, I am your mother and you will show me some respect." And cue the rolling of the eyes. She doesn't know that she's been playing this game for the last few years. I do one little thing that's out of line and she grounds me for a week. Ever since I turned thirteen, it's been the same old song and dance. And I'm ready to turn off the stereo.

"Treat you with respect? Really? I would if you'd treat me like more than a fucking endangered species at the zoo. I'm sixteen years old, I mean damn, I'm already a woman. I know right from wrong, yet I still get treated like I stole cookies from the jar. What the fuck, Ma?" I screamed at her. I'm so sick of this shit. I'm not three, I'm not some chick on the corner, I go to school, get good grades and I'm treated like the common killer. When is she going to wake up and realize I'm not that picture perfect daughter they wanted. If they were looking for a kitten, they got a lion. It's time they let me out of my cage.

I knew how they always prayed for a little girl, who wears pink, and loves to go shopping, perfect grades, pretty black hair like silk, innocent blue eyes. And that's not who I am, I listen to punk rock, I scream, I yell, talk back, have tattoos, died hair, and hazel eyes. I get good grades, the color pink makes me want to gag, and I'm not their diamond, I'm their hidden child. They love me because I'm their child, but as a person they can't stand me.

"Well if you're done with your daily dosage of yelling you can go now. Bye." I said as I closed the door on her red face.

I jumped on my bed, pulled out my iPod and let Eminem take my pain away.

I must've fallen asleep, because it is now 8:40 pm. I wonder if the 'rents are still here. I walked over to the closet and pulled out some shorts, and tank top, and underwear for a shower. As I walked passed my parents room I heard them whispering in French. We haven't spoken like that since we left my hometown of Marseille. Like always, I was the main topic. What did they do to deserve this? Why is she so disrespectful? And blah, blah, blah. It's the same story. Why don't they man up and be my parents. I have friends with more power than they have.

I probably shouldn't care as much as I do but it hurts. They've never fully cared. I've never had a good time with them, not one good memory. Christina Aguilera said it best "I feel like our world's been infected and somehow you left me neglected". I hope they miss me when I'm gone, because they're pushing me towards the door. I took a long hot shower to relax my muscles, and relieve some stress.

. . .

I climbed into bed and reached for my laptop. You've got mail, no shit AOL, I thought my inbox just said 3 for no reason. Note sarcasm. Two of them were going straight to the trash bin, no thank you Hot Topic, I'm pretty sure I don't give a shit about a new sale. I scanned through the mail and was stunned, Bella.

Hey Fry, it's me Bell, I just wanted to day Hey, and I miss my best friend. I know we haven't spoken in a while, you know high school and stuff, but me and Charlie miss you. I actually have more friends now, and a boyfriend.

What the fuck?

I know right, what the fuck? But yeah, his name's Edward and he's just amazing I think I'm in love. He's gorgeous. I've told his whole family about you and even they want to meet you. When are you going to get your ass up and visit me? Are Mommy and Mommy being bitches again? They irritate me almost as much as they do you. But just wanted to let you know that the Forks idiots over here miss you and I love you.

-Bella

I miss that idiot too. She was the only person besides me who calls them mommy and mommy. I swear Alexandre is not a man. I closed my laptop, closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Where the hell am I? My wrists are cold. I tried to move them to see they had shackles on them. The shackles had words. Love, regret, fear, hate, mourn, death, scare, embrace, family. End. I looked ahead of me and saw myself, only different. 'I' was staring at myself with a look of pity, and anger. I had glowing red eyes that seemed to shine, and not in a good way. I was wearing bloody battered clothes with rips and tears, I looked like I had just escaped the Civil War. I charged at myself.

'My' hands were coming around my neck, squeezing the life out of me and . . .

I sat upright in the bed, shocking myself out of my dream. I gasped several times before I realized it was a dream. Or nightmare. So what the fuck? I saw myself dead? Then tried to kill myself? Should I take this as a sign?