Chapter 1: Death to your heart My mother, she used to bicker at me all the time through-out elementary school that I should be a risk taker. Finally when I went into 7th grade, I cracked and changed completely. I started wearing skinny jeans, studded belts, suspenders, chains, tails, and more. Then I started hanging out with a different group, who are known as the "goths, scene queens, skaters, and emos". I loved them and they loved me. I was the baby of the group so I was protected and taken care more in-depth than everyone else. I had long bright blonde hair that came down to maybe below my chest. My bangs not yet cut, my hazel eyes that could melt anyone's heart in front of them were black rimmed glasses. The height of me and everyone else was funny I was almost 4'2 while everyone else 5'0 to 5'9. Everything seemed perfect to me, no problem in my eyes. I have an assumption that this was the time when my mother got her sicknesses. You know bulimia or anorexia, bi-polar, and other things that made her even worse of a parent. She was sometimes a great maybe even an amazing parent, but usually it seemed like Satan had came from hell and posed as my mother. My grades then started to drop, her temper got even worse. Mother refused to get me ADHD medicine, so that is why I struggle. I started cutting myself as conversations between her and I grew nastier and violent. She never noticed my cuts and never has. I stopped believing in God a long time ago, he never saved me and I prayed and begged all the time. Crying myself to sleep became a routine and was normal for a while. It was only in 8th grade when someone realized I needed to let my feelings out. My History teacher Mr. Candel at first I was a huge bitch him. I didn't want him to know my problems because I felt he would never understand. One day he held me after class and this was the conversation. "Kira, can you come here for a second?" He called calmly. I rolled my eyes, walking over to him "Yes?" trying to make this short. He stared sternly at me "If you keep acting up and being rude in my class, I'll have to call your mother..." waiting for my reaction. My eyes welling up in tears "No! Please I promise I'll behave!" the fear was extremely detectable in my voice and my eyes. He let me go but, I know that he had figured it all out. It had only been a month and a half, and a teacher knew my secret. From then on I tried to make it my goal to avoid him as much as possible. I hated him for knowing my secret! Of course he figured it out! God friggin' dammit! ><><><><><><><><><><><><>< This story is pretty different from my usuals (in my opinion). I wrote this in a deep perspective of a sad teenager. I hope you enjoyed reading the first part
Like, if you're putting an action before dialogue, you need a comma. E.g. I walked over and asked my mother,"Where is Jack?"