Chapter III

Do you care about the little things or anything at all?

My ankle would be okay soon, and I wouldn't have to limp everywhere I went. Days went bye so fast. All I did was sleep and think about how much my life sucks. I mean, my mom thinks that I commited a suicide attempt because she did something wrong, my friends are talking about me behind my back, and my stepdad is never home. Truthfully, I made my life like this, what dad would want to come home to his suicidal stepdaughter? I ruined it for everyone. I'm useless.

         I twisted my ankle in circles, my legs hanging off my bed. I could finally walk around. I could finally walk into the kitchen to get a knife without being caught. I lifted up my pant leg. Scars and red marks circles my ankle. I smiled, a troubled smile. A sad smile, tears dripped down my face. Memories flooded back. I remember cuts like these...from...from when I fell off my skateboard, and someone threw the rock at my ankle during hopscotch. I had friends and fun back then but now it just pain. And the same emotions over and over again. I took the knife off my dresser and sliced my skin once again. Just another slice for the days. For the days that I live. But not for long