Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or settings... Yet. Mwahaha
It was raining that day. The day they died. I still have nightmares, eight years later. Dad, behind the wheel, waving goodbye. Mom, checking her makeup in the mirror, like she always did. They were going to a dinner party that night. I watched as thy backed out of the driveway, as they drove down they street. I watched as a semi-truck barreled into them. I watched them as they spun, out if control, flipping and rolling into a it finally hit the wall, it didn't even look like a car anymore. It's roof was caved in, the doors missing, the front almost turned inside out. When I saw the blood dripping out, I felt light-headed. I was willing myself not to faint saying," they need you. They need you to stay awake for them." It didn't work. The last thing I saw before darkness overcame me was a flash of white-blond hair.
I'm sixteen now. I've been in more orphanages and foster homes than I can count. Each one was different from the last. Not necessarily for the better. I get teased for my appearance a lot. For my fiery red hair, my freckles, my pale complexion, and most off all, my scars from when I got punished by my foster parents and from when I punish myself. It happens frequently now. The teasing and taunting gets so harsh and unbearable that I lock myself in my room, pull out my suitcase, and take out the box of razors nestled under my clothes. I make long streaks on the inside of my arm. That's what happened today. The girls, one in particular, named Josie screeched the words, "why are you even alive you depressed bitch?! Someone as ugly as you should be in the ground!" That snapped me in two. I started sobbing and running to my room, leaving the other girls snickering behind me. I took out a knife and made a cut on my forearm, next to the others. Relief hit me. This is what you deserve.