Another day drowning in blue, so I went to my bedroom swiftly and closed the door. I retrieved my secret box I keep hidden away under the floor board in my closet and chose my weapon. A trapazoid object with a close, sharp blade. It was my favorite. I then shuffled my feet to the bathroom and began to conquer the blue engulfing me.

Each slice to my wrist hurt so much, but with each session of this newly developed addiction seemed to ease the pain in my life. The teasing, the abuse, my "insanity" all seemed to fade away with just a motion of my ligament.

A rich, thick, ruby red splattered the floor and smeared the side of the porcelin tub when I heard a shriek. I glanced up to find my little sister, Emma, staring wide eyed and shocked, all the while her vocal chords kept on screaming. Realization settled in after a few seconds and I began to panic. "Shh! Emma! Shh! Please! Please stop screaming! Please don't mention this to anyone-ever... Please?" "B-but why? Why would you do this to yourself? Momma was right! You're just a crazy, skanky bitch!" She spat harshly. I almost smacked her upside the head, but I knew that would be wrong. That and I promised myself when I was very young-oh so very young-that I would never, ever be like daddy. Or momma for that matter... Still, I couldn't help myself. "Well why don't you tell Momma that she ain't nothin' but a skank herself and she's a lowlife crackhead who should put down the bong every now and then and actually take care of her kids!" I had to bring myself to stop. It was too late though. Tears glistened in her eyes now. Momma had been a perfect angel in her eyes-her role model-well that is, after they enrolled me in the mental institution and Emma thought I was the devil for the longest... "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Just go to bed now please?" "I came in here to use the bathroom. Well before I saw your crazy ass trying to cut off your arm!" Emma flared. "Just use the one downstairs..." I continued to scrub the stained floor while she spun on her heels to leave. "Just please don't do that ever again. Promise!" She stopped to call over her shoulder. "Promise..." I mumbled. She left then, and I was deeper now in the ocean than before.

I layed in my tiny bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to pretend I couldn't hear Emma's cries. "No! Elizabeth! Please! Don't die! Pleeaasse don't die! Why do you do this to yourself? Come back! I need you! No!" She sobbed aloud in the room across the hall. Her nightmares seem to be occuring more often, mostly referring to the ever growing rumors Momma seems to never run out of. I'm not sure why she would tell anyone of my business-much less a seven year old-but it annoys me. Why does she hate me? It wasn't my fault. It was his... Plus only two percent of anything she says about me is true. Momma's a hypocrite. I hate her...

There is a constant creaking creeping up the stairs now. Grandma. Emma must've woken her by her screams. I pretend to be asleep when she peeks through the crack of my door and then goes to quiet Emma. The light flicks on across the hall and Emma's terror is silenced by her awakening. "Good lord child!" Grandma said in her soft yet very southern accent. "I thought she was getting murdered the way you were screamin'! It'll be alright darlin', try and get some rest ok? Don't worry about Elizabeth, she's better now ok?" Emma said ok and agreed to not worry. I have a feeling she'll be keeping an eye on me though.. Grandma flicked off the light then and floated across the floor in her ghostlike nightgown, down the stairs and to bed.

I wish I could've stayed out-on my own-like I had been the first year. I lost my job though, just a year exactly after the final decision the judge had made, and our grandmother ended up taking us in. She's such a kind lady. Not like our mother at all. How could a woman like her come from such a sweet, gentle person like Grandma? A mystery I have never solved...