Still Counting The Scars

July 27, 2012
By Anonymous

All I can say is my life is good for what it is. While it isn't in the greatest of shape it could always be worse. At least, that's what they say. But I have seen everything drop. My mom used to live in a very nice house where my brother and I fled to after school.

I used to use it as my hiding place, I didn't have to answer to the jerks of my street and I didn't have to fight for my place. I remember how I used to complain about how much I disliked the house, but now all I can think of is how much I miss it. My mom lost the house and we had to move near the end of the school year. But she was the only one who was home when we got out. We weren't used to being alone or not being able to walk into our house to escape the intense heat of Arizona. I was so upset, I was afraid of losing my mom and being alone.

But my father wouldn't let this be a big affect on my life. He immediately took action and decided that if my mom was not there for us after school, he would be. I was grateful for his comfort and safety. But my mom was not happy with that. She wanted to be there for us. I was confused, I didn't even know where she had planned to live, let alone how she planned to take care of us. When it came close to packing time it emotionally tore me to shreds.

I didn't want to leave the house this way, I was afraid and frustrated. The comfort of my family was not enough to keep me standing. I fell hard, my grades suffered and I became restless. I couldn't sleep and guilt swept over me. I had thought all that was happening was my fault. I wanted to run away, but I had tried that the year before and the cops had caught me and brought me home. I didn't want to be near anyone. I was a monster, I still feel like I am but I am trying to be good and hang with my family. I fought a lot at school, other girls messed with my friends. Most of them didn't want to mess with me because of a fight I had participated in. My friends meant a lot to me and I wasn't going to let them feel suffering. I never liked the girls who thought that they were better than everyone else. And I was the one who had to show them they were wrong. But all the constant fights made my life at school a living hell.

Once my grades took a fall I was constantly on grounding. I couldn't get off to save my life, and instead of fixing my grades I hid my assignments and pretended they didn't exist. It didn't work because it piled high and when it came down to the last days of the quarter I gathered them all up and took many sleepless nights to complete them. I got seventy five percent because all my work was A plus work but it was late. I didn't feel like school was important. I was too busy thinking about my life during my classes or I'd fall asleep because I had no sleep for a couple of days. My teachers were becoming concerned but I assured them they had nothing to worry about.

One day in one of my classes my friend decided he was going to tell me about a way to escape the pain I felt. He said cutting changes your energy, that instead of worrying about the pain, I could think of it as letting the bad energy flow out with my blood.

At first I thought it was a little ridiculous, but I accepted the razor he gave to me and gently placed it to my skin, I was afraid of the pain, but I was more afraid of the emotional pain I had been feeling every day. I pressed on the blade and a crimson liquid welled up around the silver cold metal.

I stared at the blood, the warmth was weak, it dripped down my arm slowly, the pain spiked a few minutes later, it wasn't breath taking but it caused me to flinch. I tried to convince myself that it was punishment for what I done, but it seemed like more than that.

Something about it seemed exciting. I learned to get used to the new pain, my friend brought in different objects for us each day. Sometimes it was broken glass, a razor, or we would disable pencil sharpeners and use those.

I grew used to it, but it was becoming way too obvious, all the scars were getting out of hand and I needed a new outing. So I began to claw my skin with my sharp nails, it sliced into my skin and caused small droplets of red liquid to appear but that was it.

But once my mom had found a place with her friends my brother and I got to see her on weekends. She was also living with her ex boyfriend in the same house. I knew the adults there didn't like me, but their kids who were my age I got along with. Their daughter and I used to be the best of friends, we discussed all of our issues, we told each other how we felt, and we tried to fix our problems together. Yet even she began to hound me for my attention too much, and when I spent time with her, my mom would get jealous and demand my attention.

I felt split in half, I was lost and confused and my relationship with that family grew weaker the more I visited my mom. Her ex boyfriend and I definitely didn't get along, every time he said anything to me I'd blow it off, ever since he and I fought on my little brother's birthday I hated him.

That family didn't treat my little brother and I very well, we were expected to clean their house alone while they watched us. I also had to sleep on the couch and when their daughter wanted to hang out she would not let me get an ounce of sleep. She always kept me up by either body bumping me when I dazed off, or talking non stop until the sun rose. I was getting fed up with it all, I felt like I could no longer stand it.

One night in the bathroom I had broken into tears because of my mom's ex and I had to do something, I grabbed a razor and desperately clawed my skin, there was no true pain as I continued. Blood dripped down my arm when my mom opened the door slightly to check on me.

I looked up at her with wide eyes as she had the same expression on her own face. She freaked and immediately demanded to know what was happening. I yelled and sobbed and argued with her but in the end I told her I was sad and scared. She asked why I hadn't confessed sooner about the whole cutting thing and I told her it was because I was afraid my father would tell me I had done it to get attention.

My father thought cutting was a way of trying to get attention and anyone who did it was stupid and should be cut by someone else to learn how stupid it really is. I was afraid he would drag a knife to my skin. I told my mom all of this and I told her I needed mental help. She said she would get me a therapist, but it never happened.

When my father found out about my cutting he was furious and looked like he was angry enough to abandon me. He told me I was being stupid and I needed to knock it off, I have stopped since an accident with a gun and I think he has now changed his opinion because of me.

After a couple of months of living with her friends, my mom moved into a hotel in downtown Phoenix. When she first moved there I was excited. Now I wouldn't have to worry about anyone hounding to do this and that, I wouldn't have to live with seven other people, it was just my mom, my brother, and I.

I was in such a good mood when we entered our room, it had two beds, a fridge, a stove, a little table, and a t.v. It was like a new home. Our first day there was fun, we adventured the streets and got comfortable in our surroundings.

On our second day however, we had met one of our neighbors. At first her appearance scared me. You could tell she was a drugged out person, but she was actually quite kind. She helped us learn about our surroundings and who not to trust. She was also very kind to me, she gave me gifts and was always telling me how pretty I was. She also used to warn me about staying away from guys in the area.

After a few weeks there, we felt like it was home. Yet one exact night ruined my vision of the hotel as well. My mom had become friends with this one guy a few rooms down and when he finally met us he wanted us to hang out in his room.

I felt uncomfortable but I followed my mom and brother. At first the man was all about playing and rough housing with my brother. I could tell my brother really liked him by the way he giggled and laughed. I tried to avoid the man so I brought my laptop and worked on my story.

He had noticed me when they took a break and tried to converse with me. At first I was quiet but he began to grow on me when I learned he loved all the bands I did. We blared music and my mom and bro sat beside him chatting as I went back to my story.

Things went weird when he and my brother began to wrestle again. This time it seemed more rough and malicious. And as they kept laughing they rolled off the bed and the guy had his eye slammed on a corner of his night stand. My brother immediately crawled away, trying to help the man up.

My mom, my brother and I gasped in unison when we saw the cut beneath his eye. He went to the bathroom to look in the mirror as I got a cold rag to wipe away the blood. My mom kept asking him if he was OK and he shook his head yes.

But once he saw my brother he turned. The man immediately tried to actually attack my brother. My brother was startled and kept apologizing, but that didn't stop the man's rage. I blocked the man's path as my brother fled the room and ran out into the halls of the hotel crying.

The man was still angry and tried to shove past me and my mom. My mom slammed the door trapping the man in the room with us. He raised his hand as if to hit my mom and my own rage consumed me. I threw myself into him, sending us crashing into the wall. As he was in shock my mom motioned for me to leave the room, but I was not prepared to leave her with that man. I began to collect our stuff when he ripped my laptop from my hands and threw it out the door, it shattered as it hit the hallway banister. I glared at him but retreated after my laptop, my mom in close pursuit. He swore at my mother and I as he slammed the door.

I grabbed the laptop as my mom rushed to my brother's aid. We checked to see if he was hurt, luckily he got out just fine. I wanted to go back and finish the fight, but I knew I would lose. We retreated to the safety of our own hotel room. My mom began to weep with my brother as she kept apologizing. I ignored them and tried to restore the laptop.

I pressed the on button and the whole screen was busted really bad and the information from it was impossible to attain again. I began to cry for all the years worth of worth on the stories and art I had left on the files were gone just like that.

When my father came, he took us and we had never gone back to the hotel since. A few days later my mom stopped calling and I became worried sick, unsure of where she was. But then I learned of her location. She was put in jail. But it wasn't for the fight, it was for not paying money for six years on charges.

I remembered how she used to fear driving near police because of them and I grew angry and when my mom called from jail, I didn't want to speak to her, I was ashamed. I was confused. Why didn't she do something before hand? After a few calls I finally talked to her and she was crying, I felt horrible for not comforting her in her hour of need, but she needed to know how I felt.

I have been living full time with my dad and his fiance. I have been growing used to the full time thing and I am glad that my mom will be out in two days. Yes my life has dropped and the challenges were harsh but I hope things go up from here forward.

The author's comments:
Sorry if it isn't too detailed and is too long

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