Beaten In Lips

Chapter 1

I've been dealing with it all my life. It's normal now. It barely phases me anymore, the damage is already done. There's no fixing any of it now. It won't stop. It can't stop really. It's just a simple way of life.
Well, let me just explain things first before I jump ahead of myself. My name's Willow. Stupid as fuck right, but that's what happens when your mom names you right after shooting up oxycotin. I'm 14, 15 in 4 months. My dad's a staggering drunk and my mom's a pill head. Dad's hardly ever home, but it's for the better more than likely. Mom never leaves. She's here all the time. It's sickening. We live down an alley in a small pointless town in Michigan. 'Home' is a ratty trashy trailer.
Now let's get to the real stuff. I've been abused, in every way imaginable. Sexually, emotionally, mentally, and physically. But you'll learn more about that useless shit later on in my little journey. I'm 5"7, I have medium-long light brown hair, snake bites, light skinned, depressed, overwhelmed by anxiety all the time, living in constant fear of myself and others, I'm an only child, and my life is pretty much shit here. I personally blame myself for not killing myself. I mean, what else do you do when your house is no longer your home?
School starts back from Christmas break tomorrow. I've never been so anxious in my life. I feel like I need to throw up, then part of me just wants to disappear and never see that damned place or those God-forsaken people ever again. Whatever. I walk into the kitchen and look around. Nothing to eat, as usual. Mom spent all our money on pills again I bed. It's not like I need it anyways, I'm big enough as is. I return to my room. There's no lights in here, you may find it odd but it's somewhat soothing. At least there's a window. I have a mirror, a dresser, and my really old full sized bed laying in the middle of the floor. It's covered in stains and only has a torn-up blanket over it. Damn this weather, we don't have a heater and it's freezing. I put on my only hoodie that actually fits, my best friend Nuka, he's 17, gave it to me. He's one of the only people around here I can stand.
It's getting pretty late and I have got to get myself up for school tomorrow, considering I'm about to be charged with truency, but then my mom bursts in. She's hallucinating I think. She's shouting, and hitting the air. She comes closer. Damn, if only I could get out of here. She hits me across the face and shatters the beer bottle that was in her hand, says a few insults then retreats to her room. Fuckin' great.
So much for going to bed early. I go into our small bathroom and look in the mirror. There's a nice stream of blood running down the side of my face. I stand there and pick out all the glass, then rinse my face off and dry it. It's not too bad, just a few slices in my hairline and a small gash no one will even question near my temple. I go back to my room and lay in bed. I fall asleep after warming up a little.