Why?……Why does he keep hurting me………..it hurts……..i hate it…..i want to die……
Why do you do this? Do you enjoy seeing me in pain? Do you just have the need to put me down? For me to have suicidal thoughts? To make me cut? To make me want to die? Well, if its any of those…..you've succeeded. I hope your enjoying yourself……...


1. The Beginning

Kai's PoV

Just another day. Another fucked up day of my boring life.

I got out of bed this morning feeling normal. Horrible, but normal. I spend ages trying on outfits. It seems like the only thing I can control in my life. After hours of quietly trying on low cut dresses and knee length boots, I decide on a striking outfit, that I hope will show the world that I just don't care. Maybe I don't. Here it is, anyway:


Like I said, I like dressing like this. I love the feeling of freedom I get when I have more than one thing to put on, and I feel like some people actually respect me when I get on the bus and say my usual snarky comment to the driver. All part of the disguise.

By the way, my name is Kai. Its' Hawaiin, one of the only things I like about myself. Short, Powerful, and to the point. It means Morgan in English, which in turn means God. I wish I was God. But I'm not, just a small little rebellious schoolgirl who gets bullied. Tell your parents, you say? I wish. My parents are-

'Hurry up bitch! You're gonna miss the bus!' my dad yells. Yeah. My parents are different. Well, parent. I sigh, grab my bag and run downstairs.

'Bye! I'm going to the bus stop!' I shout halfheartedly, knowing he will ignore me anyway.

'Bye, slut! Don't be late! I wanna have fun when you get home!' My dad smiles then, a gruesome approximation of a seductive smile.

'Y-yes sir.' I stutter. My blood runs cold. My veins are full of ice. My father's idea of fun is...not good. By fun he means forcing me to do things I shouldn't have to do at the age of 15. Meaning he uses toys and contraptions on me. Chains me to wall and keeps it up until my throat is bloddy from my screams. And sometimes, when I'm "lucky", he does it himself. Every year our school has a talk on rape, and every year I sit there, white, shaking silently while my friends laugh and talk about how things like that don't happen in real life. I look up, and see the bus coming down the road. Soon I'll be driving away from my own personal hell. It won't last. Either way it goes, I'm stuck. Stuck in hell for the rest of my life. Dad's not gonna let me leave. Not for the mall, not to go to my friend's houses (as if I have any), not even to visit my mom's grave. She died a while back. Suicide is an ugly thing. I thought parents were supposed to protect their kids. I guess that only happens in fairy tales. A father that molests me and a mother that abandoned me. I should probably be sad, but I feel angry. She couldn't take father anymore. I get it. But maybe, just maybe, she should have thought that neither could I. 

The bus comes to a stop. The doors open and I walk up the steps. I take a deep breath.

I'm on my way to High School. The second of my daily hell.



​Is this a good start? Give feedback, it would mean a lot!

<3 ~Kai Nightclaw (/ Rodrigo R.R)

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