I Want

17 year old Emme Jackson lives a rough life. When she escapes from it, she meets a certain someone that will make the biggest impact on her life.

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1. Running away

Emme's P.O.V

Hi, I'm Emme Jackson, I'm 18 years old and I live in the U.K. I have curly brown hair, with brown eyes and I'm 5'6. I don't have the best life. My brother is off to college and he was my best friend. We did everything together. My mum died 10 years ago. I didn't take it so well. And my dad, he is a jerk. Every since my mum died, he has been absolutely jacked up. He became an alcoholic and abusive. And without Zak here, I have no one to help me.

 

Everytime my dad hurts me, I cut my wrist with a pocket knife my mom gave me when I was 6. Yes, I am a tomboy. I hate girly things; it all makes me sick. My wrist has a million scars, small but because of the quantity, it is very noticable.

 

"Emme get down here!" My dad yelled from the bottom of the stairs. That isn't a good sign. "What?" "Wanna tell me what the heck this is?" He held up a paper. "What is it?'' He shoved the paper in my face and I read it. It was my grades for the last quarter.

The paper read,

B

C

D

C

F

Did I mention I'm not the smartest pickle in the jar? Well I'm not. I have dyslexia and it gets in the way of my learning. My F is in reading. My brain mixes up letters and it is all a blur. "I don't know." "What is up with the grades? Huh?" "I'm sorry dad, it's not my fault I have dyslexia!" "I DON'T WANNA HEAR ABOUT YOUR DYSLEXIA AGAIN! IF YOU WERE REALLY SMART AND NOT A RETARD, THEN YOU COULD ACTUALLY GET GOOD GRADES!"

"I'm sorry if I'm not as smart as Zak!!" I felt pain in my face and grabbed my cheek. "WHAT THE HECK IS YOUR PROBLEM YOU DRUNK RETARD!" He slapped me again and I felt tears form in my eyes. "I FREAKIN HATE YOU! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!" I ran upstairs slamming my door.

I grabbed my pocket knife from the box I kept filled with my mom's jewlery and placed the pocket knife on my wrist. 1,2,3. I began cutting myself as I screamed in pain. Then I cut again screaming even more and falling on the floor. I got up wiping the blood off my hand on my jeans. I got out my duffle bag and packed my clothes, makeup, toothbrush, other things I needed and then a picture of my mum and me then I stuck my knife in my pocket. I walked over to my door and swung it open.

 

"I'M RUNNING AWAY FROM YOU, YOU DRUNK MOTHER-" I was cut off when he came running up the stairs. I shut my door quickly, locked it and ran to my window. I tried opening it while my dad was banging on the door like a bull. Then, I opened it and started climbing out. When I was on the roof, my dad knocked down my door and ran towards the window.

I got scared so I let go and jumped right before he got to the window. I fell on the ground moaning in pain. Especially my cuts. I cut a little too deep and my wrists hit the cement. "I'LL FIND YOU! AND WHEN I DO, YOU'LL BE SORRY YOU LEFT! I PROMISE!" And with that, I ran and ran as far as I could until it hurt. Then I stopped and sat down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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