Same Sky

Chapter One: You Deserve This

"Creak. Creak" Cried the wooden planks in objection. They didn't want me to come up here. They wanted me gone. Just like everyone else in my life. I plunked down in the corner of the ancient tree house, the one that my sister Kristy's dad, Robert, had built me when I had first moved in. That was six years ago. I was fourteen now. I should be over running to a stupid welcome gift every time I needed to get away. But I wasn't.

When the present was first given to me, I had hated it. I had hated everything about moving into this house. I had hated the bright pink walls in my bedroom. I had hated the meatloaf they served on my first night. I had hated the fact that my mother wasn't here. The later thought was why was I here in the first place. When there was no one else to take me in, Kristy and Robert had. My mother had objected at first, but then the judge had pointed out that, other than foster care, it was the only option. It wouldn't have been her decision anyways. I still remembered the trial as if it was yesterday. The court room was crowded, news channels and reporters dying to get a good story. They had achieved there goal. There was nothing more scandalous in a small town than a crime. Especially a crime in which someone's life was ended. October forth, 2007. The day that nine police officers stormed into my living room, taking my mother away with the ghostly words that would be forever imprinted into my soul.

"Sharon Dennis you are under arrest for the death of Jacob Adams. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you can not afford an attorney one will be presented to you....."

The police then slapped hand-cuffs on my mother and the strange young man that was with her; who's name I later learned was Blane.

"What are you doing up here?" my sister's voice questioned, snapping me back to reality, as her face appeared in the small doorway of the tree house.

Kristy was beautiful, there was no denying that. She had the same long tan face as my mother, where as mine was full. Her skin was tan and gorgeous, with no trace of a bump of blemish in sight. I was cursed with light freckles under my eyes. We were all three tall, my sister, mom and I, but I was still the shortest of us all. Kristy and mother's hair was a dark brown sable and naturally straight all the time, and mine was a lighter shade that resembled dirty dish water and had the most frusterating curl that refused to go straight. What was exactly the same about us was our eyes. Dennis eyes is what they called them. They were an awkward shade of light green and slanted down on the tips. "As strange as they get, those Dennis eyes. Strange but beautiful. It fits, don't it? Strange but beatiful. Just like us". My mother told us that once while we were visting her. My sister had nodded and went on with conversation, probably about an award she had won or an A she had gotton on a test. I had stayed quiet. I had never believed I was beautiful, but the word strange sounded correct.

"Just....sitting". I told her. She rolled her eyes at me and let out an exasperated sigh.

"Well stop sitting and come inside, help me make dinner" she instructed.

"You're 23 and in college,Kristy. You should be able to make dinner"

"You're fourteen and in highschool, Mari. You should be able to flip through a photo album without having to run away" she fired back at me. You could see the regret reach her face as soon as she spoke. That's why I had sulked out to the tree house. I was looking through a picture album and came across a picure of Kristy and I, grining next to the Christmas tree. In the background stood my mother, ingecting her self with a needle. "Mari I'm sorry i didn't mean-"

"Whatever Kristy" I mumbled under my breathe, crawling down from the tree house and into the closest thing to a home I'll ever have. The house was actually nice, with two stories, a modern lay-out, and four bedrooms. I decided that what I needed was a nice, hot, shower. I entered the small bathroom that Kristy and I share and slipped my clothes off my pale body. I made the mistake of glancing at my naked body in the mirror and began to cry. I looked at my round stomache and thick arms and legs and wondered why I wasn't born slim like my mother or sister? I reached my arm up to the top of my head and let my hair out of its messy bun. The wavy locks fell onto my shoulders and i became once again saddened by the relization that I would never be pretty.

I stepped into the shower and the water was still cold. The freezing cold droplets hit my skin and sent millions of goose bumps down me. The water finally went warm and I began scrubbing the pineapple-honey-nut shampoo into my hair. It was a unique scent, and could only be found at one dollar store, located in my old neighborhood, but I have always used it. My mother had always used it. With each drop of water came another somber thought. I thought first of the thing already on my mind, my body. I have never been pretty, always being the one with out the collar bone or thigh-gap. This had caused boys repeling from me for as long as I can remember. I glanced down at myself. I could barley see my toes. I am five foot five and 150 pounds. I let out an exasperated sigh, but shortly after my mind started to drift to another topic. The topic that it seemed my mind was always on.

Jacob Addams. He was two years above me in school. He rode my bus. He died when I was in the second grade. My mother killed him. She had been robbing a small house on our street with her newest boyfriend, Blane. When exiting the home, a young boy had seen them coming through the window, computer and jewelry box in tow. He had threatened to call the cops, so Blane had suggested that my mother and him kill him. My mother, being drunk out of her mind and high as a kite, had agreed. They got in my mothers car, chased Jacob down, and ran him over. This got my mom fifeteen years in prison.

I was lying down on the shower floor, holding my knees to my chest and sobbing violently. My mother, my loving, beautiful, playful, mother, had killed a ten year old boy. How? How could she do this?

The water began to chill again, so I walked out and stepped in front of the mirror. You're the spawn of a monster, a voice in the back of my head whispered. You don't deserve to breathe. Whilst getting a towel from the cabinet, a familiar glint caught my eye from the top shelf. A sparkle. A sparkle that could only be reflected from a blade. I climbed up the cabinet and grabbed the old navy blue scissors. This was where Kristy hid them. I better examined the blades, revealing the worn dark red stains that, even after hours of scrubbing from my sister, did not come out. These stains were part of me, drops of my blood.

I remembered every day after school, and every night before bed. Rushing to the bathroom, looking at my reflection, pushing up my sleeves, and injecting the blade to my skin. With the memory, I looked at my wrists, seeing the light scars, like a latter to my soul. A month ago, Kristy had walked in on me cutting my self and had completely flipped. All of the scissors, knifes, and other sharp utensils had been under lock and key, or so I thought. To suffice the burning need, I have been cutting my skin with my finger nails, barely drawing blood. It was not the same. I looked in the mirror again, and the voices banged around my head. Worthless. Trash. Ugly. Fat. Disgusting. Destroyer. Just like your mother.

Over and Over the thoughts replayed, until I found myself reaching the scissors to my left arm, tracing harsh lines into my skin. As the pain began and the blood flowed out, I felt more and more at ease. You deserve this. I agreed with the voice, cutting deeper gashes into my torso and down my thighs. My disgusting, bulging, thighs. No one should be this fat. I continued to draw marks down my arms, legs, breasts, and torso. Every drop of blood I shed was equivalent to one ounce of pain I have caused some one else. It would never be enough.

Looking at my tear strewn face and bloody body, I decided that I should stop, before Kristy or Robert heard me. You deserve this.

~*A/N*~

Hello! I'm sorry I haven't updated this in forever, but I've been really focused on my story Open Roads. Which, if you haven't already, you should check out! Thank you so much for reading! Comment or message me if you have an opinion, thought, or idea! XOXOX