Chapter One- Intro

A NOTE TO READERS:

 

I wrote this story back in the days when I used to battle the ugly addiction of self-harm and depression. Half of this novel provides personal experiences and struggles of an addiction with self-mutilation. It isn't a fairy tale. This is a serious issue. Please, if you need help, call out. Don't be isolated with an ugly problem. Don't allow the words of others control your life and actions.  Love the person who looks back in the mirror. 

This may be a bit graphic and triggering so beware please.

Thank you. 

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Chapter One.

A little Intro.

 

 

I didn't belong in Kingsgrove, California. The people there were flawless little flowers sprouting in a stunning garden. Then there was me, the withered rose struggling to breath. Nobody cared enough to water me. I was fifteen years old battling a war that wasn't in my favor. Everyday It was a chore to sweep my legs out of bed to greet with the morning rays shining through my windows. Depression was a cancer devouring my body and mind. I played a charade to my delusion parents; smiling time and time again for I wouldn't break their illusion that we're a big happy family.

Meanwhile I had eerie cuts covering my wrists as if I allowed a fatal cat to go to town on my arms. I was a monster.  And there wasn't an escape either. Normal people could run from the torture of school and arrive home to a family with open arms. My twin brother, Drake, had no remorse. He bullied me in front of our parents. He had everything to say about me; I was a loser, an emo shithead with no friends, etc. My mother did the favor of slapping him upside his head anytime he overheard him.

I had no voice. I never defended myself against their fire of insults. I was this carpet used for people to walk over. I watched my brother befriend everybody in town because he was a beautiful social butterfly; and since his friends picked on me, he thought it was wise to join in on the fun at high-school. Sickly, I think he enjoyed every second of it.  It broke my heart in the beginning of ninth grade. We used to be friends back in the day until he was poorly influenced by his nasty peers. Once upon a time, our sibling bond healed the fright we suffered from our parents battles. We were all we had for a while. 

  He cut the strings connecting us... it meant nothing anymore.

Why did growing up have to hurt so bad? Why did everything change for the worst? It was a race to pick on Lily-Anne Isabelle Marks, and who ever made her cry first won. It was like the whole damn universe was in on the joke! And it wasn't like my parents were perfect role models either. My mother had us when she was just fourteen! Fourteen! My dad was fifteen, and he wasn't in our lives for the first three years. He was an ugly alcoholic and a gigantic loser. On the outside, now-and-days people think they're a match made in heaven. Maybe they were right. Back in the day, that wasn't the case. They were constantly bickering to the point where Drake and I were mostly spending our childhood at our grandma's. They were urgently separating time-and-time again. It was like nothing was built to last. Bad enough my grandma despised our father in the first place, so she was pressuring our mother to pack her bags and leave with us in her custody on the daily. 

It was difficult to play the part as the star student they desired. Sometimes my father hesitated to invite his co-workers and bosses over to dinner because he was bluntly ashamed of how darkly I portrayed myself. Once he scolded me to run upstairs to change. "Really Lily?!" He growled. "How about you flaunt your depression another time? This is an important business meeting. We aren't running a haunted house!" 

There was nothing that bothered him more then the way I styled my jet black, teased hair and raccoon make-up, along with my unflattering clothes. My mother especially wasn't a fan. 

It was no secret I was depressed in my house-hold. I was isolated in my room for the days, playing video-games, and writing poetry. The only people I communicated with were the ones online. 

Drake wasn't anything to brag about either. I was on the back-burner because he was infamous for causing problems around Kingsgrove. He was a wild child.

Sometimes, I didn't think life was worth waking up over. It was as if the world was out to bite me in the a*s.

Author's Note

Thanks for taking the time to read.

Reviews

[Hakim]

That is an outrageous story. Very heartbreaking. You expect to have siblings by your side every step of the way, but to have them do the opposite is just shocking. You definitely write well because you got me all riled up.
Gotta always stand up for yourself ;)

[Lavorther]

A very sad story, but beautifully written. I kinda feel bad for you because it is based on personal experience, but according to the note at the top you are over it now and i am glad for that. Very brave to share such a personal story.

[747]

I like the way you write. You create pictures; you create empathy; you transport the reader into your life and you do it well.

I believe "...anytime he overheard..." should be "...anytime SHE overheard..."

All our lives are a tragedy, which we spend picking ourselves up from the many times we fall and are kicked down. It's hard to find our way, but we are never the losers if we don't give up.

[~ Kimberly ~]

Thank you. I'm glad you feel that way... and it's true, there's always light at the end of every dark path.