Me and myself
A yell caused me to stand up.
Girl, stand up.
You're running late.
Without even brushing my teeth or using the restroom, I hastily got out of my small bed and scurried downstairs to start making breakfast. It won't be good for you if you don't prepare me breakfast in ten minutes. After ten minutes I managed to make breakfast and keep it on the table. I turned to go upstairs and was suddenly pulled back by my hair. I screamed in pain and fell to the ground with a stab in my scalp. Then I received a barrage of punches to my face and ribs as a welcome. I scowled in discomfort but kept quiet.
Why the hell did you make eggs and toast? You bitch, I want something else. He yelled, smacked me, and grabbed me by the hair.
"Sorry, sir," I mumbled.
".
My so-called "father" slapped me once more after punching me in the jaw. ". I subsequently fell to the ground with my hands over my face.
Then he walked away after spitting out, "It better not happen again or I'll give you the worst.".
Even though I was in excruciating pain and could hardly move for fear of him beating me further, I didn't wait for anything and started moving right away. I understood that very well. I succeeded in making it all the way up the stairs to my room by crawling. I kept crying on the floor for some time. I then realised that I needed to attend school because skipping class would only subject me to my father's wrath, which neither my body nor my mind could handle. The cold water in the shower helped my bruises heal as I dragged myself inside. I wore a big cream full-sleeve top with black jeans to hide the bruises and scars on my arm. In addition to pulling my blonde hair back into a high ponytail, I put on makeup to hide the bumps on my face. I didn't eat anything before I left my "home" and started walking toward the school. When I arrived, I went inside and toward the locker without glancing at anyone or anything. As soon as I had my reading materials assembled, I went to the lecture.
I went to class, kept quiet, and spent my free time doing what I was good at—my hobby, sketching. As the day went on. I don't want to brag, but I can do it pretty well. It is one of the things I am confident in and proud of. What was different about today's circumstance was the arrival of a new boy who was the focus of talk in the school about how "hot" he looked, who he was, and more. I made the decision to disregard it and continue working as normal. At this school, finding a new student is extremely rare, so when one does, they instantly become a topic of conversation. But I did see him, and he was indeed handsome. He has toned muscles, light brown eyes that are almost hazel in colour, and dark brown hair. He obviously also has a douche bag mentality. Why do handsome boys have to be so egotistical, I wondered. I brushed my useless thoughts aside and continued my lifeless, dull day at school before going to my place of employment, an ice cream shop.
I'm a part-time worker here, working from Thursday through Sunday.
When I arrived at work to scoop ice cream, I noticed the happy, smiling faces of children, couples, and friends. This made me jealous, but it also made me glad to know that other people aren't as miserable as I am and are at least having a good time. I wondered. working and pretending to smile at others.
After my shift, I stayed at home because I didn't want to go anywhere else. Because I can't yet run away, I went inside to get ready for more torture. Thankfully, the house was empty, so I cleaned it up, which was full of empty alcohol and drug bottles and packets. Then, as I was getting dinner ready, my stomach started to grumble loudly, reminding me that I hadn't eaten anything. I made spaghetti for myself as well, and after placing it on a plate and covering it, I went to my room after taking some for myself. I ate it and changed into my pyjamas after. I immediately begin to reflect on how miserable my life is as soon as I lay down. My bones are clearly visible, I don't have a proper body, I rarely interact with others, I don't have friends or parents, I don't have much money, I'm not happy in my life, I don't have life, I don't live, I just get by; I survive. I welcomed the nightmares as I went to sleep thinking these sombre, dejected, but true things.
Do I need to give up?
I woke up to the next lifeless, dull day of my existence. The same things that happen every day, like me being mistreated, getting hurt, bleeding out, and having to do chores, also occurred today. I was in the shower and had the thought of giving up. In everything, there are two sides. The first is that I'm worn out and sick of my chaotic lifestyle. That side, who hates her own body for being weak and for having bruises and scars all over it, is sick of seeing her blood oozing out of her body on a daily basis. I mean, who wouldn't be when they have no one else but a cruel, abusive father who beats them up without cause and makes them do chores around the house. whereas the other side continues to live, waiting and hoping that perhaps something good will happen, and just wants to stop living. There will be good things once I'm 18 and have left this hell. Maybe, just maybe, I would live my life in a miserable manner, just to get by, not to live. These thoughts were successful, so I made the decision to keep trying. This hope is still slowly dwindling, and I'm not sure how much longer I can keep myself from harming myself or simply ending my life.
I'm clueless.
Despite my daily prayers, nothing ever seems to get better.
Every day I have the hope that maybe today will be a good day and that I'll be able to smile just for the joy of it.
Will I find my love to today.
There's always a chance that today will be different or that I'll mean something to someone, but every day of my life, fate just dashes those hopes; nothing ever goes according to plan, like, ever. My life is so depressing. And I'm a miserable human being. I hate being myself.
Destiny annoys me.
I loathe myself.
The moment I had these thoughts, I broke down in hysterics.
I exploded.
I've gone crazy. I could never be whole. Nobody cares about me. I started to cry even harder after that. Nobody knows Alana for who she really is. Nobody cares a fig about me, Alana Queens, a girl!
I cried until there's no tears in my eyes for about an hour. I changed into my clothes, did my morning routine, and then got up.
I glanced at the time, which revealed my tardiness for school.
In an effort to make up for missing my first lecture, which I had missed, I hurried to school while hungry. I didn't feel bad about being late because I had to cry; I had repressed my feelings for far too long. I'm glad I was able to make it to the second lecture. Like yesterday, the gossip for today was about a new boy named Nick, so I carried on with my usual disregard for everyone. These people see me every day, but they never come over to talk to me. They see me as a nerd, a freak, and a non-person. It still hurts even though this has been the case for years because pain must be felt. I wish I could be immune to it, but it's just not possible.
Slowly and fatally, the day goes on. The most appealing older boy I had ever seen was leaning against the car with Nick, the new student, as I walked out of the school.
It was a black BMW.
Both were conversing with one another. In the eyes of other girls, the older boy was extremely hot or attractive. I started staring at him as a result. I could gaze into his eyes for the rest of my life because they were the most beautiful shade of green. He had dark walnut-colored hair. He was wearing worn-out blue jeans and an excessively tight black shirt that displayed his well-toned frame and muscles.
I was horrified by how good he seemed to be as he turned toward me as though noticing my gaze.
He had high cheekbones and a jaw that was clearly defined.
everything that would entice a woman to love him.
He strangely sniffed the air before saying something that sounded like "Mine.
".
and moved closer to me. I became terrified and I started running as if my life depended on it.
I could feel him behind me.
But I kept going, and fortunately I could see my workplace, which was the ice cream shop I hurriedly entered while gasping for air. I thi
nk I lost him. I sigh in relief. I then started to work.