since the 5th grade

Chapter 6

"Shit man." Michael mumbles to himself.

"Its whatever." I pull my sleeves back down.

"Can I ask you what you dream of?" Michael asks randomly.

"I don't have dreams." I say.

"You mean you've never had a dream? Not even as a child?" He asks, shocked.

"Of course I used to dream as a child, but not of rainbows and unicorns. I mean, if you've seen what I've seen and done what I've done, its not a good idea." I say.

"Its not a good idea to dream?" He asks.

I nod.

I was like winter. Cold, lonely, and dead on the inside. Strong winds wrap my thoughts and I feel like I can't breath. I was the kind of cold that isn't measured in temperature.

Luke was the complete opposite.

He was like summer. Warm, beautiful, and bright. He's like the sun that slowly rises, and calms the storms inside my head.

Michael's P.O.V

Julie really was something different. She was the kind of girl that liked to hang out with her demons til 3am on a school night, and I was totally okay with that.

Julie's P.O.V

6th period soon comes and goes. I didn't understand how I made it through this whole day.

I'm greeted by my bitch mom as soon as I hop into the car. Not as much greeted but yelled at, for being 3 minutes late to the car, because I stopped to talk to Melly on the way to the car.

"Shut the fuck up." I tell her. I had lost all patience and respect for her, well ever since she had cheated on my dad and torn our whole family apart. It had been a few years ago, but that stupid saying "time fixes shit" is a bunch of bullshit because I still hated her more than ever and yes, it was accurate to say I had a lot of anger towards her.

"Don't talk to me like that. I'm your mom and you have to respect me." She yells at me, during the car ride home.

"I'll respect you once you respect yourself." I snap back at her.

If I couldn't move heaven, then I might as well raise hell.

We get home and I get out of the car, slamming the door behind me. I hurry into my room and lock the door behind me. I start to remember how when I was younger, I would be afraid to get hit by my parents when I did something bad. Now, the only reason they don't hit me is because I'm not afraid anymore. I'm not afraid because I hurt myself every night.

I set my backpack down and look into my mirror. Broken lines spread across it. My face shows up shattered. I could hear myself screaming for help, before the demon inside of me killed what was left of me, and although I screamed and screamed, no one came running. In the back of my head I heard a voice. A voice saying to me, "No one can hear your screams, no one can save you." Tears come streaming down my face. I was tired of living. I was tired of this shitty place you call Earth.

I open one of my drawers and reach underneath a whole bunch of clothes, pulling out a blade.

"Dear blade,

I died again today,

But I know you'll be there to resurrect me." I whisper.

"Stupid girl." I say putting the blade to my arm. "You think he's ever going to actually like you."

Luke was my drug.

Bad for my health but made my worries disappear.

Luke was my drug, but I had no desire to kick the habit.

~~~

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