This is my new story. Almost everyday since I started it I would write in my notebook and a story just came to me one random day. I'm very proud of it and unlike my last story this one is going somewhere. Not sure exactly where yet, but this one has more of a plot then the last one. So enjoy the first chapter of The Kit!
CHAPTER 1: BLOOD
Why is it so dark in here? It's so cold.
"Hel-hello?" I call out, no answer. There wasn't any wind, no kind of breeze, just pure and deathly cold, wrapping itself around my naked body. I started to feel my way around the room, desperate for a way out, or even a light. I moved my hands blindly around the room until I hit the wall finally. My hands felt the wall until my fingers found the light switch, curled around it and flipped it on. The florescent lights flickered on and I had to adjust my eyes to the violent light. Once my eyes focused I took in the murderous sight of the enclosed space. Blood everywhere, splattered on the walls and the ceiling. There was what looked like fingernail scratches carved into the ground. There was a bathtub right across the room from me and I felt drawn to the tub even though I didn't want to move. I seemed to glide across the room and once the tub lightly hit my shins I looked down to seem something- or someone, in a position that made me hyperventilate. A disfigured body lay in the tub and it looked like it had some sort of birth defect. Along with the defect it had cuts all over its body. Burn marks all over his face. My eyes took in the disfigurement of the body. Who would do this to him? I tore my eyes from the corpse and looked up. Who is this person? She has black medium hair, with one blue eye and one brown eye. With her heart-shaped face she looked so innocent. She looked scared her unique eyes staring back at me. No- wait this girl is me.
"Uhhh…." the body in the bathtub moaned. I looked down at him and I could see him trying to move.
"Are you o.k.?" I asked. He looked at me and then looked above my head and started whimpering. I didn't even have time to turn around before I was hit with a blunt object. I fell hard to the floor and my ears started ringing.
"Bella, Bella!" a voice echoed. My head shot straight up from my desk and I looked around my Spanish class.
"Bella, you awake? We gotta go." My friend Jess started shaking me and I was on the floor after the fourth shake.
"Ha ha, whoops." She chuckled. She helped me up and I stretched and yawned.
"What time is it?" I asked groggily.
"Uhh, 2:30, it's time to leave." We started walking across the campus to the parking lot.
"Can you drive I'm still tired?" I asked.
"Yea sure, let's go." I tossed her my keys and went to the passenger side.
There was silence and I was about to fall back asleep when Jess asked, "You o.k.? This is the third time you've fallen asleep in class."
I looked up at her and there was worry on her face.
"I'm good, just really tired lately."
"Have you been getting enough sleep?" She was so annoying sometimes.
"Jeez Jess, stop acting like my mother." Shit I said the "M" word. Jess lost her mom 2 years ago from a car a car accident. We have never talked about it, but when it happened she just snuck into my house and we just cried together.
"Sorry if I care." She mumbled. The rest of the car ride was silent and I closed my eyes, but I couldn't get back to sleep, so I shifted myself up and turned on the radio. Jess is my best friend and has been for the last five years. She cared so much about me that it was sometimes hard to remember that she is just my friend and not my mom. Jess reached her house and I got out and moved to the driver's side. I hugged her and got into the car and started driving. The rest of the car ride was short since we live down the street from each other, so I parked my car on the curb and walked up to my condo where I would face the drunken person who is my father. I took a cautious breath before turning the knob and I walked in unsteadily.
"Dad, I'm home." I called out. Silence. I released the breath I had been holding in and walked in a fast manner to my room. I opened the door and someone was sitting on my bed, back faced to me with an empty beer bottle in his hand.
"Hi, dad." I said in a frightened tone.
"Are you scared of me girl?" he asked in a maniacal tone. I have to think of my answer or else I might get him mad.
"Yes." I squeaked. Even though it sounds bad, it was the right answer. He liked fear; to him fear equals total control.
"Good." He cooed. He got up and walked over to me.
"Get dinner started, and don't fuck it up." He leaned over and gave me the wettest, beer filled kiss and pushed me to the ground. I moved into the fetal position and cried silent tears. After a couple of minutes of crying I crawled over to my bed and reached under it for the kit. I zipped it open and reached in for the post-it size razor. Folded over my long sleeved shirt, revealing my many cut's and scrapes of self infliction. I remembered my music and reached for my back pack and pulled out my MP3 player and blasted on some Slipknot to make the situation seem better. As Psychosocial was blaring in my ear I lowered the razor onto my arm and let my release flow through me. I always got a weird high, like a sense of total contentment when I cut, although it never lasted. After the cut, I grabbed some antibiotics and medical gauze form the kit, wrapped it. And went downstairs to make pasta for the ungrateful man that was, my father.
So? What did you think? R&R for me please and tell me what you think. I love constructive criticism so tell me about any grammatically incorrect errors.