"Think you can take me?" I arched an eyebrow.
"Are you doubting me?" She answered.
//
Natalie Perkins, born in London. The FBI is after her for the assassination of fourteen men. All of them brutally murdered one day of the week, all of them left wi...
Count my cards, watch them fall Blood on a marble wall I like the way they all Scream
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I was always following orders, ever since I was a child.
My father was the one to blame for building that compliant part of me. I was just a kid when it all started, and trust me when I tell you it wasn't pleasant at all.
It was snowing a lot and my father told me to clear the sidewalk. Of course I was just doing normal things any seven-year-old would do, so I refused. He got mad, he never took the pills for his anger issues. He hit me, and it only took a broken nose for me to understand.
My mother had been mistreated by my dad too, so she decided to put a restraining order and leave both of us. I didn't care, because she wasn't good either. She smoked and drank and did drugs. I'm pretty sure I was a mistake.
I had ditched my parents as soon as I turned eighteen, and I had been told my mom died from overdose and my dad practically killed himself while driving drunk at dawn. Did I give a fuck? Not one.
My sister was the best thing in my life. Her name was Lucy and she was so pretty, but she was killed by her boyfriend at fourteen. I didn't understand how I let that happen, since I was supposed to protect her. But her boyfriend was abusive, and I just wished I got to spend more time with her.
Having the parents I had, it was easy for me to sneak out and go wherever I pleased. They couldn't care less about my whereabouts every night, so I took the opportunity and started going to bars when I turned fifteen.
I bought drugs too. In the beginning I only smoked marijuana and organic cigarettes because they affected less my health. But then family struggles got worse and I stopped caring about myself. I had swore my sister I'd never try synthetic drugs, but she was dead now and my life had no sense anymore. So I tried opioid drugs, like fentanyl, hallucinogens, like LSD, and dissociative drugs, like coke or heroin.
I became a fucking addict.
But there was no one in my life that cared about me. I was only eighteen when I found myself completely alone, because I didn't even have the necessary strength to go to a bar. I developed depression and a depersonalization-derealization disorder.
Sometimes, I would just lock myself inside my own mind and I didn't even know who I was anymore. My episodes usually lasted a couple of hours, where I just curled up on the floor, but sometimes they lasted up to two days. I had no idea what happened during these periods of time, but I knew I cried a lot because I would wake up with damp cheeks. I was lost within my mentality and no one was there to snap me out of my trance, so I just suffered.
My body was in my room, but I wasn't there at all. My thinking would torture me, because I relived old memories that I had tried to bury deep in the back of my mind. It was really hard, and the episodes hadn't stopped yet. I was used to them by now though.
