Lost

Only 15; Broken home; Forgotten parents; Lost in her journey of life.
Scarlett relies on her best friend, music, to get her through life, wishing everybody would leave her alone and forget her so she can live and die in peace. When two persistent ex-best friends pop up, Scarlett not only has to choose between the two, but when given a life-changing choice, choose between her life and another.

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1. A Beautiful Mistake

The blood poured out copiously, unrelenting to my fake pleads of help. Scarlett sat against her bedroom wall, the sharpener blade sitting snugly in the scars on her fingers. She pulled the blade at her wrist again, making a new gash into her already bleeding skin. They say if you do something too much it loses its meaning. The pain was old now. Nothing hurt her anymore. Surely slashing your skin violently should cause pain, irrelevant of whether you did it too much. This confused Scarlett often. She was only 15. It's not like she knew everything in the world and understood it. She only knew of how much pain she felt. She only knew that this was her escape from reality. She knows it's a way to stop all the insults and the tears.

A 15 year old should certainly never have to go through what Scarlett went through. She was left and abandoned in a way that should be illegal. This one girl went through more pain than most people in the world. 

She got up and put the blade on her desk. She turned back to the wall she was resting against and fixed the curling corners of the posters that had plastered all of her walls. Posing faces of her favourite bands smiled up at her, not moving and blank, but containing a special charm that Scarlett could not resist about them. The tiniest smile escaped from her mouth thinking of her favourite guys. Her jet black hair swung around her face, making a little curtain around her and Vic Fuentes' face on the poster she was smiling out. 

A moment of silence occurred as she stared into the charismatic soul of Vic, only before she shook her head, coming out of a reverie. The blade was quickly wiped and hidden behind some books in her bookshelf. She was now quite careless with where she hid her blades; Nobody came into her room much anyways and she only hid them for reassurance. She still found it quite funny that nobody had figured out what was going on with her by now. She started self harm at the age of 13 and for two years she had managed to make excuses for every single scar she had. 

Scarlett proceeded to lie on her bed, limbs spread out childishly. She reached around blindly and picked up her fluffy red heart cushion, and hugged it, holding it tight around her chest. Grey eyes drooped down, the feeble sting from the cuts probably dripping blood all over her clean sheets. She didn't care about it. She didn't care about many things at all now. Before she was such a perfect student and bright girl- she always did her homework and had behavior like an angel, but that was all way before reality hit. 

Nobody would be able to recognise Scarlett as the amazing little girl she used to be. But for some reason she didn't care about that. After everyone messed with her, she didn't care if she messed them up. It was only fair; It was beautiful revenge, 

What was the point in life anymore anyways? If a girl lost all hope and wasn't noticed then what is wrong with society? Scarlett went to bed that night wondering whether she deserved more pain than she felt; whether there actually was a reason for her to get everything she had gotten so far. 

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