My Fallen Angels

Knives and pens

My name is Brooklyn, or just Brook. I'm a huge fan of Black Veil Brides. I am 18 years old. My mother is currently dead and my father is currently passed out on the sofa. Beer cans stacked around him. 

I get up, ready to go to school. First things first, put my fave songs on. Helps me get motivated to actually get up and not hit snooze. 

I search through my wardrobe and pick out black skinny jeans, a torn black tank top, a black hoodie with BvB written on it and my black sneakers. I usually let my natural black hair cascade down my back. I open a small little box with piercings in it. Nose, tongue, belly and eye brow... not to mention 3 in both ears.

I look my self up and down. To me, I look pretty fucking shitty, but to my class mates, I look seriously, dorky freakishly shitty. 

I pull my bag over my back and put my ear plugs in. Whilst getting them out of my pocket, I felt something sharp..... OOOWW. My finger started to bleed a bit. I just licked it and it was fine tho. I have BvB Knives and Pens playing on my mp3.

Whilst walking, I see preppy bitches staring at me. I put my head down. Can't help it. My anxiety cripples my social life.

I arrive at school and head to my first class. Clarence, the girl sitting behind me, starts giggling. I then feel wet goo in my hair. I put my hand to it. Chewed gum. "Thanks" I reply sarcastically.

"You better be fucking grateful, bitch, cause I just wasted a piece of gum on you, trash bag."

I manage to get all of the gum out with out my hair getting my waves ruined, but the weak smell of strawberry hung around me.

I heard some rustling. A note was being passed round and everyone was writing in it. It got to me last. It read ": Those in favor of getting rid of emo freak, sign your name here." The whole class had signed it . I stood up and calmly put it on the bin at the front of the class, not given them the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of me.

It was lunch, I headed to the bathroom. I opened a stall and locked it. I pulled my jeans down, up to my lower waist. I looked down. Scars were all along my hips. I felt around my pocket for the sharp object which had pricked my finger. It was a small piece of glass. I made small cuts along both sides of my waist. Blood was going everywhere, so I grabbed some tissue and put it against my new wounds. The bleeding calmed down. My hips were a canvas of every day of my life since my 14th birthday, the day my mother died.... soon after her death I was diagnosed with chronic depression. When I first started self harming, I did it on my wrists because I was naive. I later realized that that was like a big arrow saying, give me attention, and that was not why I self harmed. I did it because of relief. Anyway, I later moved on to my hips, where no one can see them. There are still very visible scars on my wrists.

I finished up my day and headed home. Much to my dismay, my father was awake and very, very drunk. I managed to sneak past him whilst he was watching television. I still smelled of regurgitated strawberry, so I grabbed a towel and hopped in the shower.

"OI, DON'T GO WASTING MY GAS MONEY YOU DIRTY BASTARD." My stepdad screeched in the hallway. I chose to ignore him, but big footsteps were soon heard outside of the bathroom.

The door swung open, and my dad stumbled in, almost collapsing. "GET OUT HER AND SUCK MEH OFF U SLUT" I pushed my self away from this disgusting man. He tried to grab at me. He was about to grab my hair when he collapsed on the floor in a drunken mess.

I started sobbing. I ran out and got changed. Opening the door, I ran with a backpack full of food and clothing. Darkness began to fall. After getting out the shower I had cut my wrist and my hips. They were stinging like a fucking bitch. The blood loss......The stress and trauma.......dizzy.......darkening...Black.