This is a bit depressing, I know, but it's a first for me. Normally, my work is very cliché, and you can tell immediately just by the first few lines. Here is just a sample of my work.
Every morning, I wake up feeling even more disappointed in myself than i feel the night before. I wonder who will be my next victim.
Myself or an innocent oppressor.
I find love in the strangest of places -- in the back of a club where no one dare goes except the guys that couldn’t care less who they get with. I find love with the worst people -- with the men who are too drunk to care about their lover. I find comfort at the most peculiar times -- when my father is flying off the handle as he beats my mother another time.
At least it’s not me.
The shower isn’t my favorite place to be, yet i spend most of my strangled time in there. My wrists and thighs aren’t the most alluring places to look at, yet i spend almost all of my time perusing them. The cuts and scars lacing my skin just shows how weak i am in my life. How weak my strangled cries for help are.
i can’t even let out a cry for help because of the pain it causes me. With every howl of gloom, i receive more pain than it’s worth. Countless nights have been spent by my wailing for the pain to go away, but nothing happens to me. I feel no change except the fresh bruise or mark on my porcelain skin that burns deep into my soul.
I’ve been sold off to many, hit by hundreds, and laughed at by most. My soul has been beaten and broken until the point of no return. I can’t even begin to count the imprints on my body that constantly remind me of what a failure i am. I’m too wounded to even regard anyone giving even a tiny bit of kindness.
I’m broken.
The lies i’ve told as excuses are coming to an end. Teachers notice the faint lines that litter my skin, but they don’t ask questions directly. A speech gets said to me by my cruelly kind principal only leads to a disapproving sigh and another drunken night by my father that ends in my tears.
Nobody sees my body giving out as the hunger tries to eat at my soul. Nobody sees the warnings my stomach makes at the mere sight of food. Nobody even spares me a glance.
Nobody except Roy. Roy Peterson.
Roy hasn’t seen me for long, only a few days if that. In those days, though, he’s made a heavy impression on my soul. He makes me feel good and happy, which is dangerous for me. My father’s warned me against him, saying that he is up to no good as i receive another beating, but Roy won’t stay away from me. I’ve told him time and time again, but nothing works on him.
The thoughts that remind me of him only lead me to more tears that i can’t contain. As Daddy forces us to eat the dinner that Mom has prepared for us, i spare a glance at Roy beside me, which is a wrong move on my part.
Daddy gets even more upset. Not only have i brought this boy over to our private house, but i have also dared to look at him, a rule that is not allowed.
There are certain rules that are demanded in my house, most of which have been broken by Roy:
No boys over ever.
No one is ever allowed to know about our private affairs.
I must always do as Daddy says without question.
Eye contact is not to be made unless it is to Daddy.
Speak only with permission.
Daddy doesn’t like it when people ask questions, so he has to stop them. Roy was one of those people that asked too many questions about my family, so Daddy has to stop him. When Roy followed me home from school today, that was the last straw for Daddy.
As soon as i got home, Roy was already being commanded inside by Daddy. I couldn’t stop anything from happening without my punishment being severe for breaking the rules set up by Daddy. I was already in enough trouble as it was.
I watched solemnly as Roy was tied up against the chairs that lined our dining room table. Daddy decided to play around with the brunette boy that was struggling to break free of his confinements. His ice blue eyes pleaded me to help him, but i couldn’t. Not now. I had to follow Daddy’s rules. So did he.
Thirteen whippings for me for only looking at Roy. I took them with bravado that was crumbling away as the minutes passed on. My frail body pounded with the heavy thumps of my heart with every whipping that left new scars.
When Daddy was finished, he made Mom clean up the table and to make sure that she did it as quickly as possible for he had a surprise for Roy and I. Surprises were never good in our torture house, but i stood tall in my seat, trying not to give away my horror. Roy gritted his teeth together in annoyance as he thrashed about. I wanted to free him from his confinements, but the whipping had left me so weak that moving was torturous for me.
Thousands of painful tingles erupted in my body as Daddy hoisted me out of chair. I screamed in agony, but it was of no use. The only person that could save me was in more trouble than i was. Daddy tossed me into the corner of the room. My head slammed against the impenetrable wall, making me wail out a stream of curses.
Daddy didn’t like that one bit.
He stalked over to me as i rubbed the back of my head, feeling the warm liquid coat my hair. I didn’t even make a sound as the rough slap swatted at my cool skin. My cheek was too used to the strike and the aftermath to even react. Roy, on the other hand, erupted in fury at this. I watched as the only boy that ever cared enough to question my scars grappled with his ropes.
A smirk planted itself on Daddy’s face as he marched over to the teenage boy. The chair yanked itself into another angle as Daddy pulled on the wood. A single knife, shiny from a fresh polishing, poked itself up from the table for my dad to grab as his weapon.
No sound was made as the steak knife pierced Roy’s skin, dripping a deep red liquid onto his cheek. My voice drowned out any taunting remark from Daddy at the sight of the only boy that cared about me bleeding because of me.
Pain seemed far away as rage consumed me. I couldn’t even feel the pounding of my head or heart while i shakily found my feet. My bare feet carried me to my father just as he impaled the knife into Roy’s side.
I threw my body on top of Daddy’s, throwing him by sheer surprise. Adrenaline coursed through me as i beat my father for the first time.
It was my first time standing up to him.
It was my first time trying to stop him.
I tightly gripped his fading black hair in my feeble fingers. My fist slammed down on the ground, bringing his vile face down with it. Again and again, i banged his skull on the wood ground until he just stopped.
Stopped fighting.
Stopped cursing.
Stopped breathing.
He just stopped.
I couldn’t even breathe out in relief before panic overwhelmed me. A mewl of pain brought me back down from my adrenalin high. With weak limbs, i rushed over to Roy, who was struggling to even keep his blue eyes open. I reached into my father’s pocket to yank out his phone as i tried to reassure Roy that he was going to be okay.
Sobs racked my body as my frail fingertips dialed the memorized number that i’ve never had the chance to use before. Mom scurried out of the kitchen and out of the house, leaving me alone with my bleeding friend. She didn’t even spare us a pity glance as she ran away from the horrible house that we called home.
Assurance was passed through the phone, making me offer the tiniest of smiles up to Roy, who was barely even breathing. I quickly untied him from his constraints as he fell into my arms. I made sure to keep the bloody knife in his side to decrease the amount of blood loss, but it didn’t help a lot. I gathered up some of the now bloody table cloth to hold against his wound, hoping to stop the blood from pouring out of his body.
Roy’s lips gently pressed against mine as he whispered his last goodbyes. I refused to let him to, though.
He was the only one that noticed me.
He was the only one that asked questions.
He was the only one that cared about me.
He stood up for me when nobody else would.
He was in this mess because of me.
If anyone deserved to die, it would be me. I was the used one. I was the one that was beaten and broken. i was the one that was too messed up to care about anyone. I was the one sold away nightly by my father. i was the one with scars on my skin that revealed my bones. I was the damaged one.
As Roy took in his final breaths, i only shed more and more tears as i begged him to stay awake. Stay alive. He couldn’t die. If i could only have one wish, i’d wish for Roy to be alive and healthy, never to have met me.
But, of course, wishes don’t work that way. You can’t undo what has already happened. I realized this as Roy’s eyes closed and his chest halted. I couldn’t feel anything besides the pain in my heart that ached to be with him.
Faintly, i heard the ambulance in the background, coming to rescue the boy that was already dead. I knew that there was no way Roy would ever be alive again. He was already gone.
Instead of waiting on the ambulance and the police, i jerked the knife out of Roy’s pale body and held it up to my eyes. I cast my gaze over the evil knife that had killed the only one who ever cared about me -- who i ever cared about.
I lifted my bony wrist and laced my skin with another fresh cut before making myself a promise. This was the last scar that i’d ever inflict on my body. THis was the last time i wouldn’t eat. The last time that i would cut myself. The last time i would allow myself to be hurt by someone else.
My lips gently pecked Roy’s cold, still ones as a fresh wave of tears streamed down my shaking cheeks.
Men rushed in the dining room as i sobbed over the only boy that i ever cared about -- i could ever care about -- that lie dead in my arms. I was wrestled away from Roy by some officers that were screaming out words that i didn’t care to hear. I only wanted Roy in my arms.
Four strong men lifted Roy onto a gurney and carried him away from me. I thrashed about in the officers’ arms so that i could get to Roy, but they wouldn’t let me go. Questions flew out from their mouths, but i paid no attention.
I couldn’t even listen to them as i thought about my promise. Roy would want me to honor it. He wouldn’t want me to forever mourn over him. He’d want me to move on with my life and help others. In the short time that i’ve known him, i know that, at least.
Being beaten was my past. Roy was my present. My future was undeterminable. ALl i knew for sure was that it was going to be spent trying to help people that were going through what i went through with Daddy. I was going to find the good in people, like i found in Roy. I was going to live my life with the good that Roy brought out of me, what my dad didn’t have.
My one wish was that I’d see Roy when i was done. When I went to Heaven, i’d see him. After everything, i only want to see him. I’ll help people here until it’s my time to stop, until i get to see Roy again, my love.
But for right now, everything was over.
