Broken

"Just tired." She muttered. But you could tell It was not just a lack Of sleep, But a lack of hope, That made her Act the way she did.

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3.

I wake up up on the floor. Disproving any thought of last night being a dream. My eyelids feel chapped from rubbing them. And my throat is scratchy from screaming my heart out. I just don't know what to do with myself. Do i carry on as normal. Arrange the ceremony? Kill myself? What the fuck do i do! "Someone tell me what to do!" I shout standing quickly. "Ugggg." I throw my fist at the wall over and over again. I hate this house. I hate this world. I hate my life!

"Someone please." I cry leaning against the wall. My life is a complete mess. I thought it was fine but it's not. Everything i loved. Became everything i lost. And there's nothing i can do to change that.

My phone vibrates on the table. Ugh. I walk over and pick up the glorified shattered piece of glass. "Fuck." I yell throwing it at the t.v. A black hole appeared were it was hit. God. I cant do anything right can i?

I wander up the stairs into my room. Everything is packed. So they really were going to kick me out. Weren't they? They probably didn't even have a second thought. They were just happy to get rid of there fucking bratty 17 year old... Maybe i deserve this. Maybe i deserve to be sad. I was a horrible daughter. Especially to my mother. The woman who gave birth to me. And raised me. Kissed my knee when i scraped it. Held my hair when i puked in the toilet. "I'm sorry mom." I whisper. Tears flooding down my cheeks. "I'm so sorry." "I'm sorry mom! I'm sorry that I'm a useless, worthless, fucked up, piece of shit, it's all my fault. But don't worry." I wipe the tears from my eyes. "Don't worry mommy. I'll punish myself." I jump up and start searching threw one of my junk drawers. Where is it? Where could it be? It has to be here!

My fingers run along the black box as i find it. I grab the pencil sharpener twisting and turning it in my fingurs. Am i really doing this? Do i deserve this? Sure i hit my mom. And made my brother cry. Caused my dad stress. But is it that bad?

I run to the garage throwing my dads toolbox open. I find his screw driver and turn the screw until it falls out of the box. My fingers slowly run over the silver menace until finally i pick it up. I run back into the house and slam the door to the bathroom locking myself in.

As i sit in the middle of the floor criss cross apple sauce i stare at my bare wrist crying. Then, i finally drag the blade across my skin slowly crying out as the blood starts to bead up in perfect crimson lines. I deserve this. I remind myself dragging it across my skin. Again and again. Hand shaking wild, i yell, "Are you proud of you'r precious child! Of your little girl. Your princess? Huh! Huh! Tell me. Come on. Fucking tell me!" I bang both my fist against the wall rapidly. Blood splatters on the wall but i could care less. Who's gonna see? Exactly.

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