"You insolent little bitch, can't you do anything right!"
"What is a slut like you even living for?"
"You have no reason to live so why don't you just kill yourself already."
"The government doesn't pay me enough to live with a bastard like you."
All these sentences were floating around in my head. Somehow, I just can't make them stop. No matter how hard I try. Living in that gross old apartment was torture. Every day is like waking up to near suicide. The only time I could escape it was at night, but even that wasn't enough time for me.
Bruce and Taylor, my foster parents, were the faces of the devil. Bruce would hit me if I ever do anything wrong. I had so many chores that I would be sore for weeks. Both Bruce and Taylor would curse at me, telling me how stupid I am or how much of skank I am to them.
That's when I turned to self harm. I know what people say. "Cutting yourself is bad and your brain is totally messed up if you do it." Yeah, I know. But they don't understand. It's a sort of relief killer for me. It's difficult to explain.
Crying was never a option for me. If I cry, the pain would hurt more. The worst of the two was Bruce. Whenever Taylor wasn't around he would touch me. I hated it. I rather not go into much detail about it. Everything about them was too painful. The words, the hits, and the touches were just too painful.
My parents, my real parents were amazing. My dad was a journalist for the New York Times. He was the best in the business. My mom worked at a school as a music teacher. My mom had light brown hair with green eyes. She was so beautiful. My dad was a big nerd but that's why my mom loved him.
I remember that day perfectly. My parents and I were walking to a little ice cream store where we go all the time. We were going because it was my birthday and my dad got a huge promotion after writing an awesome article about the villains in New York, there was even a part about the Purple Dragons.
It was night and we were going there for dessert. The sky was so clear and nice that we decided to go for a walk instead of going in a taxi like always. Whenever we when to the ice cream store, we walked through an alley as a shortcut. Nothing bad ever happened before so I didn't think much about it. But this night was different.
I was in the middle of my parents holding both their hands. My parents were talking so they didn't hear much. I heard a thump and told my parents but they just told me I was imagining it. I was scared, so I let go of my parent's hand and hid behind a cardboard box that was there.
Suddenly laughs filled the air. Purple dragons came out of nowhere and started hitting my parents. They kept talking about how my dad should have kept his mouth shut. Mom and Dad tried fighting back but it was no use. I saw them die right before my eyes. I silently cried as the Purple Dragons walked away laughing even more.
I don't remember much of that after. It was very vague and everything happened so fast.
I was soon living under the roof of the Smiths. Otherwise known as a living hell. It's my fault my parents are dead. It's my fault that they're gone. I wanted to go out for ice cream. It will always be my fault.
Then I woke up.
My legs are sore. I can't feel anything but pain. My muscles are weak and have no strength whatsoever. I opened my eyes. It was a blot of blurry at first but then they reajusted themselves to my surroundings. I was laying on a mental table and rapped in bandages.
I was in a dark room in a place I have never been before. Yet I felt safe. Isn't that bad? To feel safe in a stranger's home. There were computer screens plastered all over the walls. Wires were laying on the desk in the corner of the room. The walls were painted a dark purple.
I sat up and quickly the pain rose. I groaned and grabbed my head nothing could make this pain worsted. Something in mind made me jump. I suddenly felt only air. But that ended in a split second unruly face and body came in contact with the dirty floor. On second thought, that made my pain worse.
I slowly got up and locked the muscles in my leg so that they were straight. My head hurt from the sudden changes in gravity. I walked over to the door being careful not to fall again. I glanced at the clock near the door, 4:00 AM. I opened the door and walked down the hall.
I saw in a living room that the TV was on. I looked over the couch and saw a giant turtle sleeping. I slowly backed up away from the turtle but somehow bumping into someone.
"I see that you are awake miss. Please do not be scared by my appearance."
I turned around and saw a giant rat in a Japanese robe. My mouth hanged open a bit but I quickly closed it. He looked like a well respected person, even for a rat.
"Please, follow me this way, miss. I presume you have any questions to ask of me."
I followed him to a kind of Japanese sliding door. Inside was filled with the smell of incense. The walls were filled with Japanese paintings of samurai fighting. He knelt down informing of a small table and motioned his hand to knee in front of him. He started to pour me some tea. He asked me as he gave me the cup
"So tell me, what is your name, young one?"
"Matthews, um. Riley Matthews."