A Psychotic Plan

There I stood. Looking at the only person on earth who loved me. Dead in a coffin. My beautiful sister, Daisy. Her skin as pale as it can. No colour in her face. I wanted to cry, I really did. But I just couldn't. And I don't know why.

Standing in front of my dead sisters body. Behind my mother who was sobbing on her knees next to my sister. My father kneeling next to her. He too was crying his eyes out. I swear, they wouldn't cry for me. They loved my sister, but hated me.

Maybe it was because I was adopted. Ever since I was a baby. They wanted to return me, but couldn't. Only my sister Daisy loved me. Even though they don't know that I know I'm adopted. But that story is for later.

I was pulled back from my thoughts as someone touched my shoulder. I turned around to see the pastor. "Are you okey?"

Looking him dead in the eye I said. "Yes, I'm so happy, the only person in the world who cared about me just died. I'm jumping around from happiness." I fake smiled.

Nodding he turned around. He's probably scared I was going to jump on him. I saw the fear in his eyes, I could even smell it of him. That's when I knew how I loved the way people feared me.

Turning back around, I grabbed my mother from the floor and told my dad to bring her home. I hated the man with all of my heart. He used to come home to beat the shit out of me and Daisy. But he only did something to me that he didn't do to Daisy and that I couldn't tell anyone about.

He touched me. He didn't go anywhere further than that. He touches my hole body. At first I cried. Now, I'm used to it. I still try for him not to touch me. But sometimes, he still do. There was this one time I hit him in the face, but you know:

'life sucks, accept it, and begin living again.'

That's my life quote.

The man I hated grabbed my mother from me and took her with him. He looked at me asking if I was coming. "I'm taking a taxi. I'll come later." And with that he was gone.

Taking a deep breath. I stood there watching my sister. "It was a lovely ceremony. It's not fair that you get to die at such a young age. I'm going to kill the bastard who killed you. That's a promise. And you know I keep my promises." I told my sisters dead body.

Everyone already left. I wanted to cry but I just couldn't. I tried. But I couldn't. Stroking my sisters face. We looked so different. She had light green eyes. Beautiful golden locks. Slim figure. White beautiful skin.

Me on the other hand, I have dark hazel eyes. Brown curly hair. A curvy body. And a toned skin. You can see that I'm adopted. Both Mother and Father have blond hair. Mother has blue eyes and father green. Both their skin is pale. If I didn't know any better, I'd say they were siblings.

I'm now laying in my bed. Looking at my ceiling, as a kid I didn't have friends. Still don't but, you know, let's say fake friends. I didn't have a diary either. So what I used to do was steel a ladder from Father and wrote on my ceiling.

If you look up, u can see stories about what happened to me at school, at home, even in this very room. My own room. When that bastard touches me I look up. Rereading my stories for some distraction, not that it would completely work.

I'm just done writing about today. About the fact that I wanted to feel sorry for my dead sister but felt nothing. I only felt angry. This rage. I know it's dangerous. But still, I can't let it out.

If you open my closet, and throw my clothes out of it, you'll see blood. I used to hit the inside of my closet, so no one can see. If I'm angry, I keep hitting. Until my hands are bloody. Even then I sometimes keep hitting.

After reading my newest story on the ceiling, I walked towards my closet. Opening it and throwing all of my clothes on the ground with just one fast movement. The rage I felt was abnormal.

I went into my closet. Hitting the walls again and again. Harder and harder. After a minute I'm bleeding. I see red. I kept hitting. All of my anger running trough my fists.

I didn't see red anymore. It turned black. Darkness took over my view. I kept hitting. But I didn't feel pain. Hitting and hitting and hitting.

I got pulled out my trans when I heard a woman scream. A hand on my shoulder. I jumped before I turned around. Seeing my adoptive mother on the ground crying and my adoptive father telling me to calm down.

I looked down at my hands seeing them full of blood. I don't see my toned skin anywhere. "YOU MONSTER!!! YOUR SISTER IS DEAD AND YOU ARE BEATING THE CRAP OUT OF THAT CLOSET!!! YOU ARE CAUSING YOUR MOTHER A HEART ATTACK!!!" My father screamed.

I looked up at his face. The rage took over. I hit him square in the face. Mother screamed at my action. Looking terrified. "MY MOTHER?!?! MY MOTHER?!?! YOU MEAN ADOPTIVE MOTHER!!!" I barked at them.

Both looked shocked. "YES I KNOW!!! MAYBE THAT'S THE REASON WHY YOU TOUCH ME AND BEAT THE CRAP OUT OF ME!!!" I looked him dead in the eye. And walked out of my room.

Heading towards the door I hear them screaming in my room. Yelling at each other. I smirked knowing I caused them to fight and walked out of the house.

I decided that I needed to go home. It was already 3 in the morning. I sat on this swing in a park far away from my house. Walked towards my motorbike, that I needed to pay for myself. And went back home.

Seeing the lights still on (which I found weird), I walked in. Seeing my mother jump as she sees me. She smiles sadly at me. I see the pain in her eyes. Looking down her mouth opens.

"You'll be seeing a therapist tomorrow." She said still looking down. Okay what now? I looked dump founded af her.

"What did you just say?" I asked sternly. You can see the fear in her eyes. Ahh, the beautiful smell. The hearing of her pounding heart. She might actually get a heart attack.

"You're father and I think it's the best." She finally looked up. Only to receive my death glare. Then I started thinking. They can throw me out. I'm adopted after all. They can get me back in that orphanage. I'm almost 18. Just a few months. Afterwards I can get my own place, get the hell out of here.

"Fine, you're right. I need this. Not for me, but for us. I want us to stay a family." I looked sympathetic at her. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have hit your husband." I told her.

"And he shouldn't have touched you or hit you." She looked sorry. "But you can't tell anyone, not the police, no one!" That witch! She chooses her narcissistic husband over me. Over the girl who took care of her.

I was the one who needed to take care of her. For all these years, how dare she calls herself a mother when her kids need to take care of her. That's not fair. No child needs to go trough that shit!

Over the years, I made self sympathy. I could only cry for me. For no one else. I don't feel guilty if I hurt someone's feelings. I didn't care a shit about them. Only me. But I am capable of loving.

I loved my sister Daisy very much. She was there for me. She showed me love when no one else did. She knew all the things that were written on my ceiling. I know I couldn't tell anyone but she knew me too wel. She knew I wrote on my ceiling.

She practically raised me. Because Mother certainly didn't. She would stand before me when Father came home drunk, and she would take all the first hard punches. Afterwards he would get tired so it wasn't that hard.

After I was a year or 13 I was the one taking the first punches. There are 7 years between me and her. But still she was like my best friend. She was there for me when I found out that I was adopted. I remember that night like it was yesterday, but that's a story for later.

"Fine, I won't tell anyone." I lied. One day, I'll tell the hole world. I promise you that. And you know I keep my promises. "I'm of to bed." I smiled at her.

"Goodnight sweetie." She smiled back. Walking up stairs I hear her talking to someone. I took a few steps back, trying to hear who she's talking to. "She agreed, our plan is working. She won't tell anyone."

"Good." I hear the rotten bastard say. "Goodnight. And keep an eye on her!" He warned her.

"I will, my love." She answered sweetly. Love sure makes blind.

Now just prepare for your appointment tomorrow. Those bastards. Ugh! One day I'll get rid of them. Yay!