I stood, holding the small pistol up to my skull. "God, I'm such a loser." I thought, "A twelve year old killing herself. Brilliant." I put the gun down and looked at it. "I'm an idiot.# I thought to myself as I walked away. As soon as I got in my room, I collapsed on my bed and started crying. "I wish I was dead, I wish I was dead!" My thoughts screamed at me. Tortured me. Hated Me. I knew I was a horrible person. I just didn't show it. In this day and age, who can? It's all a joke. A big flipping joke. I hated my past. even though it was one of the few times I actually enjoyed myself. It was still horrible. My current life was horrible as well. Maybe even more horrible. I was scared, alone, and angry at myself for what I've done. My boyfriend wouldn't care, much less understand what I was going through. I didn't even understand him. I guess I was dating him because he was halfway decent. Such a hard find. In Texas anyway. I settled down and turned on the television. Maybe that would calm me down. I rummaged through my recordings and found something good the watch. I fell asleep a few minutes later, worn out from all my crying.
I awoke to a fist pounding on the door. I rubbed the nasty grit from in between my eyelids as the door flung open and hit my guitar handing up on the wall, collecting dust. ####### Elizabeth! How many times do I have to tell you to stop leaving your television on at night?!" My father screamed, his face growing more tomato red by the second. "I-I'm sorry" I managed to stutter out, looking at my ugly green carpet. "Sorry doesn't cut it. The next time you leave it on, it's gone." He was in my face now, spewing his cigarette breath as he spoke, "Get ready for school, you have twenty minutes." He left the room before I could object and tell him that I wan't feeling well, so I just decided to curl up in bed and fall asleep again.
When I was deep in my slumber I dreamed. I dreamed of a boy. A boy that I've never seen before. His skin was a creamy light brown color, his eyes chocolate brown. The hair atop his head was short and curly. And another thing, he was extremely gorgeous... I had very little time to enjoy the dream about the boy because a pair of cold hands gripped my shoulders and shook me. Going to sleep again was a bad idea.
The slave becomes the master.