AN- this chapter contains, mention of bullying, cutting, depression and therapy. If you are sensitive to these things please read at your best judgement.

My name's Emilia Vixen. Yeah, weird name, I know. I'm 18 years old, and I am British. My family and I moved to America 2 years ago. It started off great, I met new people, made friends and had a family. A hell of a lot can change in a few months.

My so called 'friends' started to turn on me. They began to bully me and call me a freak. When I fought back. They beat me up. My family tried to help, but nothing was done to stop it.

I became depressed. All people ever seemed to do was bully me, pick on me, degrade me, shun me. I got lonelier and lonelier. Pretty soon I was completely isolated from everyone. Then the accident happened.

My mum, dad and younger brother were coming back from getting the shopping. I kept waiting for them to get home. I was sick of being lonely. They never did. There was a road accident, none of them made it out alive. I saw it on the news, hoping to everything I could that they were just held up. I must've fallen asleep, cause the next morning I woke up to a knock at my door. I slowly got up to answer it. As soon as it was opened, I knew what was coming. Stood in the porch was a cop.

"Are you Miss Emilia Vixen?" He asked. I could only nod. "I'm sorry to have to tell you that your family were killed in a car accident last night." I tuned out, knowing what he was telling me. I shut the door as he went to his car. I ran upstairs, and cried for hours into my pillow.

When I went back to school the next day, they just kept going. They called me a freak, a weirdo, an orphan. I dropped out. I couldn't take it. It wasn't long before I started cutting.

I went to therapy a week later, my forearms completely wrapped in blood soaked bandages. The sessions helped me. I overcame my depression, as well as coming to terms with my grief. I moved to the next town over. Enrolled into a new college. I still get called names, but I can handle it now. I'm still painfully lonely. I just keep hoping the right people will come along.

You're probably wondering why I get called names. There's a few reasons. People don't seem to like my accent. They also seem to be jealous of my bright blue eyes and my body shape. That's mainly girls. But they all can't stand my hair. I don't think its because I'm ginger/redhead (even though I am.). I think it's because my hair goes, orangeyred, black then white. It's like the tail of a red fox. It reaches to my hips and has some soft waves in it. I don't understand why people get bullied over their looks. At the end of the day, why should they live their lives differently for a bunch of judgemental bitchy people. My therapy helped me see that.

AN- jumpy timelines, i know. It is going to even out in the next chapter.