Rachel feels as if she is not loved. She bounces from guy to guy hoping to find that feeling she once felt so long ago. She has nobody to talk to and nowhere to go. That is, until her parents send her off to live with her cousin.


1. Love

I woke up to an unfamiliar bed. I sat up and stretched as my eyes adjusted to the bright light shining through the window.

I quickly got out of the bed and searched for my clothes on the floor. They were strewn all over the room. I found my undies on the dresser. Last night must have been a wild one.

I sighed as I looked at the boy laying in the bed. Another one night stand, I didn't even know his name or how old he was, nor would I ever see him again. He thought I was eighteen, I was 17. I decided I would leave him a note as to why I would be gone when he woke up, incase he thought it was more than a one night stand. I don't know how he would think that. I picked him up at a bar, and we came here. What else would it be? I know I shouldn't have been in the bar, but I'm a bad kid, what'd you expect? I used a fake ID, picked up a guy, had sex with him, now I'm leaving. The end.

I wrote on the notepad on the bedside table;

            'I had a great time last night. I'm sorry I had to leave already, I have to work. It was nice meeting you.'

Okay, I know that was a lame excuse, but what else was I supposed to say?

I went down to the lobby and paid for the motel room. I wasn't just going to leave him with the bill just because he was the guy.

I hopped in my little red, old beat up Audi Coupe. My parents have money, lots of it, but I didn't want any part of it. I didn't want any part of them. Nothing, zippo, zilch, nada. But sadly, they had everything to do with my life. Or so they thought. They tried to make sure they knew where I was at every minute of everyday. They tried to control what I did and who I did it with. But that changed a long time ago. It changed when I had nothing to do and nobody to do it with. I became depressed and only left my house to go to school or work. I lost all my friends and most importantly, I lost my parents. They changed, they started yelling at me for doing things, anything at all. Whether it was staying home all day, or it was not doing the chores on time. They yelled at me all the time. Soon it was constant, nonstop, persistent yelling. I would come downstairs, they would yell at me. I would walk through the kitchen, more yelling. Sometimes, I swear they yelled at me just for breathing. It wasn't fair, I didn't do anything, I didn't understand why they were yelling at me. Eventually, when I stopped listening to their yelling, they resorted hitting me. Where was the love? The sympathy, warmth, tenderness, that every child should feel from their parents? Wherever it was, it wasn't at my house.

I pulled into my driveway and let a few bitter tears fall as I thought about the past. I just wanted a normal family. One that I could trust and love and be loved by them. Was that so much to as for? I just wanted somebody to love me, but there was nobody in the world who did, and I knew that.

I wiped the tears away and let the blotchiness leave my face before I went inside.

"Where have you been?" my mother pounced on me as soon as I walked through the door.

"Out." I stated, as if it wasn't obvious, as I walked past her towards the stairs.

"With who?" My father asked joining my mother.

"Does it matter? I was out with people, that's all there is to it."

"Yes it does matter. Don't walk away from me!" He yelled as I started up the stairs.

I was forced to turn around, I didn't feel like getting another beating tonight, "Why do you even care?"

"Because we like to know where our children are so we know that they are safe." My mother said feigning her sweetness.

"Stop pretending that you care about me. You just like to know what I do so you can make ridiculous punishments for me. You don't constantly ask Mike what he's doing because you know he doesn't do anything so you know you won't have to punish him. You just like to punish me 'cause it makes you feel like you still have control over me. You don't, and you know that, so you punish me and you beat me. That's not how a normal family works, can't you guys try to be normal parents for once?"

My parents didn't say anything. Instead, my dad's open hand came across my face. Instant tears filled my eyes as my cheek stung. He didn't deserve the satisfaction of knowing that he broke me, I stood there and I stared coldly at him. He stared back.

"We will be a normal family someday," he said. I was confused but I didn't show it, I held my ground, "when you are no longer in it." And he walked away. I just kept staring at him, my tears threatening to spill. My mom followed him. That was harsh, even for my parents. I just shook my head and walked up the stairs.

As soon as I closed my bedroom door, my dam broke. The tears came rushing out and I could no longer control them. These tears were no longer tears of sadness, they were tears of fury. I screamed as I punched the wall in front of me. I put a hole in it but I didn't stop, I continued to scream as I kicked and hit it until I no longer had the energy. I collapsed in a into a ball and started crying again. My parents didn't bother to check up on me after my screaming fit. For all they knew I was being murdered, not like they cared.

When I was drained of energy and of tears, I sat with my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. I thought of everything that has happened since my parents changed. Why would they so suddenly change? I thought of before, when were nice and loving, when I felt like I had real parents. I had loving parents, I had friends at school, I had a brother who was always home, I had my cousin Louis who was like a brother to me, I had everything I would've asked for. But that all changed, it didn't just happen over night, it happened over a couple of months. Those were the months in which I became depressed and everything else fell apart. My friends left me, my brother left for college, my parents became wicked and Louis moved to London.

Then I realized the true problem to all of this. It was me, I was the problem. Mike left for college, that changed my parents a little, who wouldn't it change? But when Louis left, that's when I changed. He was my brother, my best friend, the one that I could talk to, spill my feelings to. When I was sad, he would always be there to let me cry on his shoulder, he was the only person in the world I could do that with. And then he left, he left with a short goodbye, but he promised he would be back. I waited for that day, and to this day, I still wait. I've been waiting for four years, and I know he isn't coming back. I haven't talked to him for four years, I've been depresses for four years, my depression has turned my parents and my friends against me for four years. The problem isn't me, it's Louis, he ripped my family apart. He didn't mean to, he didn't know this would happen, but it did. And he caused it, I am alone in this world because of him. I know I shouldn't blame him - he had better things to do than waste his life here in North Carolina - but there was no way that I couldn't feel like this wasn't his fault. And for that, I hated him. He disgusted me now.

I was going to run away. That plan just popped into my head without me thinking about it. It just came, and it sounded like a wonderful idea. I was going to run away, and I was going to do it soon, very soon.

I crawled across my room and reached under my unused bed. I pulled out a small black backpack, the only backpack I owned although I never used it for school. I went over to my closet and threw in a two black t-shirts and a pair of black sweats. I refused to wear anything with color on it. I wore colors that reflected my mood, and for a long time I have been wearing black. I also refused to wear or use anything that my mother or father bought me. Like clothes, that I long ago threw away, or my dresser, or my bed. The only thing I use that for is to hide stuff under it, I sleep on the floor. I crawled back over to it and felt around underneath it until I found the small box. I pulled it out and opened it. It had all my possessions from happier times; pictures of my friends and I and friends ship bracelets, things I've mostly forgotten about. But there were two things in the box I have never forgotten. I dug to the bottom and found what I was looking for. It was just an old picture with bent corners and small tears on the edges. It was faded but I could clearly see the two people in the picture. There was a young girl and a young boy. They both had jet black hair, olive skin and big brown eyes. The girl was entrapped in the boys arms, they were staring at each other. There was nobody else in the world except for them. I was suddenly jealous, not of the girl, but of what she had. Love, she had love and I wanted it. I used to have it, when this picture was taken I had it. I loved that boy, that boy loved me. You may think thirteen is too young to be in love, but when you find your soul mate, you know it, and it doesn't matter how old you are.

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