Tattoos and Scars | Rewritten Version

Prologue || My Limit

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EDITED: listen people, if you're here to read this then imma just say that i was 15 when i wrote this (16 now) but either way, i'm not 21 and no one i know drinks, so I DON'T KNOW how this whole thing works. please just ignore this little loophole and don't comment about it because a lotta ppl have been saying that this isn't how getting drunks works. i'm sorry about that... i just didn't know. thank you :)

Maybe I should wear a turtleneck for a few days? Is that visible? Why can't schools let you wear hoodies? Maybe I should just skip school for a few days...? No, then that'll raise questions my dad's probably not going to answer.

Is the cut that visible? Do people even notice me in school? It doesn't matter right. I mean, I could get ridiculed for wearing turtleneck, but it isn't something I've never seen. People tease me all the time for wearing a hoodie in the summer. One time, I designed a cool temporary tattoo on my face to hide a cut. Of course, I didn't add anything onto the cut itself, but I designed around it.

It wasn't that bad, but people make fun of me all day for that. I guess people don't miss a chance when they have the chance to bring someone down.

Was it really my fault that I don't want to show off my scars and cuts? If the school found out about them, they'd put my dad in jail and ship me off to foster care. I don't want to go into the foster care system.

I've seen kids in the foster care system. I've seen them fighting against the world daily. And if they aren't lucky enough to get adopted, they end up on the streets.

I don't want to end up on the streets. I want to stay in one place and work my way towards a good future. As long as my dad doesn't try anything other than beating me, we're good.

And besides, I just have to put up with him for one more month and then I'm a legal adult who can do whatever the fuck she wants. I'll go to college with the money I've been saving up for the past three years and then I'll save up in more for graduate school. I'll get myself a job and then I'll be set. I'll be okay.

I will be okay.

I groan as the cut begins to bleed more, seeping slowly out of my body. "Damn," I grumble. Most people don't know how much they're capable of bleeding before they black out. All I know is that I can last a long time when blood is pouring out of a cut in my body. I haven't blacked out yet, so I guess I still don't know my limit.

I clean off the blood from the crook of my neck, carefully nursing it. At least it wasn't a few inches to the middle of my neck, because that would have killed me. Before I would even know what freedom tastes like...

"Bailey!" I jump, flinching at the pain I just caused myself. "I ran out of drinks... Buy more."

I slowly step out of the bathroom, to face my dad sprawled over the rusty, tattered couch, holding an empty bottle of beer. It's easy for me to buy drinks around here because almost every bar knows my dad and over the years, they've learned more about me too.

I don't drink. I don't smoke. I'm not going to let those demons ruin my life like they ruined my dad.

So the store owners feel pretty secure handing me a bottle of beer, knowing that it will never reach my lips. My dad hands me a few bills. "Here, come straight home. Hurry up."

I quickly nip from the money from his hands and leave the house. I grab the pocket knife on the shelf nearby, which I usually carry when going out.

I guess nursing my cut will have to wait...