Saving You {SELF HARM} *Original* *2014*

Chapter One - Day One

You had just been placed in the life of Brooklyn Black.

Disturbing thoughts and cruel words ran through your mind. Why was this happening to you?

The cruel words began to echo throughout your mind.

Fat. Whore. Bitch. Slut. Hoe. Loser. Lesbian. Ugly. Emo. Goth. Fuck Up. An Accident. Adopted. Worthless. Attention Whore. Freak of Nature. Cunt. Freak. Fake. Ratchet. Stupid. Mistake. Waste of Time. Skank. Twat. Geek. Nerd.

You clutched your head, tears filling you eyes. This wasn't a punishment but, torture.

You sucked in a big breath and released it through your mouth. It calmed you down a little bit.

You looked around the room seeing typical things; a dresser, clothes, a mirror and a desk.

The little brown desk sat in the corner of your "new" room. There were pieces of paper scattered all across the top of it. Maybe these would help you understand Brooklyn's life a little better.

You made your way through the gray colored room, toward the brown desks.

You focused your eyes downwards to look at the top of the desk, Every note was tattered in it own unique way and each note told a different part of Brooklyn's story.

As you pulled out the chair a terrible screeching sound bounced off the walls. The friction between the wooden floor and the metal chair had caused that horrific sound.

You placed your butt in the chair and began looking at the notes. Realizing that the notes had dates on them, you started to look for the note with the farthest back date there was. Once you found it your eyes scanned over every single word, reading it carefully hoping you didn't miss a single word or sentence.

After reading a couple of the notes, you realize that these aren't just any notes, they are suicide notes.

A few tears escaped the corners of yours eyes and you sniffled. Brooklyn seemed so angry in her notes. Everything she wrote seemed hateful or very blunt.

That night you worked your way up to the most recently dated note. You reached for the note, gripping it with your long, skinny fingers onto the tattered edges.

Dear Whoever,

Hey! Ya Found me!

You may have know about my suicidal thoughts or you may not have known either way I was still suicidal.

There's a certain somebody out there who knows the countless ways in they've tortured me.

Suicide is not a cowards way out. It actually takes a lot of self hate to make you take that final step and pull the rigger of a gun, or kick the chair over. For those of you thinking I'm a coward for doing this, I'm not. You just made me hate myself enough to commit suicide. You pushed me over the edge and I feel on to the cold concrete ground, brains splattering all over the place.

I think I've made my point or atleast made someone gag or cry.

Fuck You,

Who else would it be?

This was the first suicide note all night that had made you start to sob.

A yellow sticky note was attached to the back of the note. Black ink had scratched words into the thin paper and they read, "One more day and if it's bad you end it all. Gone with a pull of a trigger."

You would keep that promise because, you knew if Brooklyn was Brooklyn she would have went ahead and done it without thinking about.

The black eyeliner your were wearing began to roll down your cheeks and that night you cried yourself to sleep. Not because you were sad because, you felt sorry for Brooklyn. You could feel the pain and the self hate she felt and somehow you had to figure out how to make it through these next two weeks even if it meant making friends with people you don't know.

It was only day one of fourteen and you already wanted it to be day fourteen but, that was a long time away even for the person who sent you here.

This was only day one.

 Copyright Makaela R. New All Rights Reserved 2013