Hurting Inside

Asya is a troubled teenager, coming from a home a domestic violence. She self harms and lives in fear of her father. Facing the daily torture of school and her deep sorrows. She finds a tiny light in the darkness of her existence, will she grab onto it and recover? Or fall further into the blackness of depression?

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2. THe way I cry

Dear diary,

School was boring, I kept picking at the scab starting to form during class, it hurt like hell but that was the point. I must confess, I'm not writing this in my little book like I normally do. I'm writing this in a police station, this is a confession. A confession to my witness of a murder and a confession to the murder of my father. I had come home, my mother was pinned to the floor of our kitchen, my father's hand held a knife. i had stood there and watched my mom DIE. I saw red and killed my father. The neighbor called the cops and they found me clinging to my mother's dead body. I still am covered in blood, the murdered blood of my mother, and the rightfully killed blood of my father. I'm crying inside, not out. I don't regret my actions, I don't regret killing my father......

 

Asya looked at the page. She smiled, not a happy smile but a cruel and cold smile. She remembered the pain as she watched the light go out of her mother's eyes, and the manic joy of killing her father. She closed her eyes and remembered the ways she plunged the knife into his back, slashed his face so it was unrecognizable, the way the artery spurted blood like some gruesome fountain as she cut of his hands and gouged out his eyes and tongue.

 

She was still laughing when somebody put a jacket on her and buckled it up at the back, still laughing and smiling when she was taken out of the station and fell into manic fits of giggles as she was shoved into the back of a black van with no lights. The look on her face was unrecognizable, the look of pure insanity.......

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