An angel and her demons.

1. Change

"I'm sorry Charlotte, they were found dead in their apartment this morning. Suspected overdose." Principal Kelly gave me a small smile and passed me a box of tissues. Now I wasn't actually that upset about them dying, they had been abusing me for years, but I couldn't help feeling a small sting in my heart. After all, she was my mother. Some may think that I would hate her for everything she has done to me but actually, I still loved her. As messed up as it sounds, I don't believe she was a bad person, just a person who was broken and made bad decisions.

You may be very confused, so let me explain.

My name is Charlotte Emilia Valentina, I am 16 years old, and I have lived with my abusive mother and her even-worse boyfriend since I was 5 years old. I have lost everything and everyone.

Every day for along as I can remember, my mother and her boyfriend Zach would torture me. Both verbally and physically. I have become quite numb to the physical pain, When I was 14, I had two broken ribs and I didn't notice until they turned a strange colour and I began coughing blood, that's when I went to the hospital and found out I had broken them, and they had been broken for months.

However, for me, the painful words still sting. The words cut deeper and hurt more than I can express. I try not to hide how they pain me, seemingly I have gotten quite good at it. The only person who could read me and recognise when I was in pain, was my best friend, my boyfriend, my soulmate.

I know I am still young and a lot of people wouldn't understand that I fell in love. I didn't just have a cliche highschool romance which lasted a few weeks. I had known Nathaniel Blaze since I was 10.

He was my first friend. He knew everything that happened with my family and he pulled me from my darkest moments, he was my ray of light, my glimpse of hope. He promised to be with me forever.

Yet, I let him down. I couldn't help him, I was too selfish to see that he was hurting. He took his life, he died in my arms and its my fault.

After that I can't help but feel I deserve everything that has happened to me.

I vaguely remember my life before I turned five and moved to America. I lived in Italy, I had 6 older brothers and parents that loved me. I was loved and care-free. But after my mom got really mad with my papa, she took me, and we left. I still remember her dragging me and holding me as I screamed for my brothers, however, they never came to get me.

Since I left Italy, life has been hard. I don't have any friends, I'm small and quiet and I always have my nose in a book or a paintbrush in my hand. Reading and painting distract me, they help me fall into a world where I am happy and loved.

I am near breaking point, but I will never let that show. I'm a people pleaser, I hate to disappoint. Mainly the reason I put up with my mom's abuse for so long, I just wanted her to be proud of me. I self-taught myself Italian and Russia, I also taught myself how to bake, how to draw, how to clean wounds. I learnt as much as possible, just for a small smile or a small "I'm proud of you Lottie' from my mom, but it never came.

A lot of people, especially my mom, think I'm naïve, stupid, sheltered and innocent. Yet, I really am not. I just like to see the good in the world, I don't ignore the bad, I know it's there, but I would prefer to believe that everyone has a good side and with some work it can be reached. I never reached my mom's, but I always hope that someone would. Now, that seems impossible. Maybe she can find peace now, knowing that she doesn't have to spend every day with me and her drugs.

"Charlotte, this is your social worker Debra." my principal nodded towards the door, as a woman walked in. She was just a bit taller than me, seemingly around 5'4 with a short pixie cute and round glasses.

"Principal Kelly." She smiled and shook his hand before turning to me "Are you ready to go, sweetie?"

I grabbed my backpack off the floor, "Thankyou Principal Kelly." I gave him a small smile before walking up towards the door.

After a quick 10 minute drive to 'my house', Debra told me to run and pack anything I wanted to take back to New York with me. Before I got out of the car a tear rolled down my cheek, "are you okay Hun?" Debra asked. I looked at her and sighed, "I'm just still trying to process everything that is happening, but I'm also just trying to focus on the positives. Like seeing my papa and my brothers again. I hope that they will like me, it's been so long since I've seen them."

Debra looked at me and gave me a genuine, caring hug. "They will love you, now chop-chop and pack your things. We need to be at the airport soon." I nodded and ran into the house.

I rushed to the closet and grabbing two backpacks, I threw my only three hoodies, four pair of yoga pants, and my t-shirt alongside my underwear. I didn't have many clothes; they were all either from donation bins. I also through my sketchbooks in and grabbed the only book I owned which was a copy of Wuthering Heights. After packing my bag i sighed.

I grabbed my childhood stuffed bear, Mr Cuddles. I named him when I was 4, don't judge, off of my bed and pulled him into my arms. I took one last breath in the apartment, the scent of cigarettes, alcohol and drugs still putrid.

Once i got to the airport, i checked in and after walking me through security, Debra gave me one last smile "Be careful. Don't hesitate to call If you need me for anything. Good Luck Charlotte." And with that I walked towards the terminal.

Well goodbye California, New York here I come.