The One to Always Get Hurt...

-----------> Pic of D on the side.

Chapter One....

          You couldn't exactly call me a normal teenage girl.  I was always on the run, and I never looked back.  Well, I did once and it led to near suicide.  I couldn't stand thinking about my past; it just tore me up inside.

          I would sit in a dark room for hours crying about how fucked up my life was, and how everyone would be so much happier if I was dead.  I had been holding a knife up to my throat when my best friend Andre found me.  Every since then, he never leaves me to myself, unless I needed my privacy to either get dressed, or when I'm in the bathroom.

          I wasn't always like this, but that was before everything happened.  I was an all round good person; always happy and knew how to make you laugh so hard you wet yourself.  I cared, and I was smart.  I had what I thought was the best life ever, until the day I saw my brother and sister murdered right in front of my eyes.

          It was one of those foggy days where you couldn't see anything and it was dark out.  It kinda looked like a creepy cemetery.  Though cemeteries fascinate me.  I was in my bedroom, dancing, while listening to my ipod.  I had my music low enough so I could hear what was going on downstairs.  When I heard a crash and my little sister's scream, I rushed out of the door, and nearly killed myself of the stairs. 

          As I rounded the corner, I saw a dark figure standing over my whimpering siblings.  Daniel was trying to protect Monica, but the only got him stabbed.  I was too scared to rush over there and help them, and then as my brother's body went limp, Monica screamed again in fear.  I wanted to run to her, to tell her everything was going to be okay, but it wasn't and after that, never was. 

          The man gripped my sister's head by her long wavy brown hair and brought the knife down to her throat.  I was just about to scream when he slashed through the soft tissue near her jugular.  The blood sprayed all over the floor and I saw my sister's body twitch as the blade sliced deeper into her neck.  Soon enough, the man had sawed my sister's head off her shoulders, and that's when I acted.

          Without even thinking about what I was doing, I lunged for the asshole who killed my dear siblings.  When I was in reach, he shoved the knife into my side, and ran out the door, my sister's head still in his hand.  He left me to die there next to my brother and sister's carcus', but about an hour and a half later, my parents arrived home.

          The ambulance was there within minutes, and that was the last thing I remember before I lost consciousness.

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          I sat up in bed and yawned.  I hadn't got much sleep last night do to the fact that I tossed and turned all through the night.

"Belle, are you up yet?" Andre asked from the other side of my bedroom door.

"Yea.  I'll be ready in a sec." I answered, groggily.

"Kay." Andre said, then I heard him walk downstairs to make us breakfast.

          Andre could cook, but I couldn't.  The last time I tried to make toast, I almost burnt the house.  I chuckled at the memory of Andre's face when he came home.  Andre and I had moved out of my old house because I couldn't handle the fact that I thought I was the reason why my parents were killed two weeks after my brother and sister.  I was devastated.  Andre was and still is my only comfort.

          I pulled out a cropped black top that stopped at the end of my ribcage.  Then pulled out my ripped skinny jeans and my black pumps.  Before I went downstairs, I headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth and clean my eyebrow, lip, nose, tongue, and bellybutton piercings out.  Then I pulled my waist length black hair into a tight ponytail, leaving my fringe to hang in front of my left eye.  I grabbed my bag and went downstairs to the lovely smell of eggs and bacon.