~Tales Of A Broken Girl~ | Teen Ink

~Tales Of A Broken Girl~

August 23, 2016
By Serenity_Annagrett PLATINUM, East Sparta, Ohio
Serenity_Annagrett PLATINUM, East Sparta, Ohio
24 articles 2 photos 6 comments

Favorite Quote:
Vanilla cupcakes are sweet so is life therefor life is a vanilla cupcake.

She’s all alone in this dark place, there is no escape. No one to save her what will she do? Now that he pushed her from his life. She had no one to hold onto when she’s in pain. He’s gone forever. And now she’s the broken girl, the freak. The emo girl everyone hates. She wished he’d just kiss her, maybe even just on the cheek. Tell her it’s alright. She misses the way he call her his princess. Even though he was right beside her she wanted to be closer. Everyone wonders why he chose her. She wonders this too. Every day the thought of why she was his even if just for a little while crossed her mind. At first she felt she didn’t love him. But one day on a long road trip, reality hit. She was his world and he will be hers. She remembers the first time he gently pressed his lips against hers. She remembers the feeling the kiss gave her, like a million little butterflies in her stomach. She remembers the time they went a little bit further. What he did unnerved her. She remembers the first time she sat in his lap and he wrapped his arms around her waist softly laying his head on her back. That made her brain go wack, she couldn’t think for this moment was too great to be hers. How could this guy love her? The freak, geek, the outcast? How me she thought. She remembers him telling her he carved their initials into a mountain. That made the tears of joy flow like a fountain. She found someone who loved her even in her darkest hour; he loved her not just for her face or her body. He loves her for her inside and out. He loved her even when she was sour. He had a passion for guitar. He sang so good she died a little each time he sang. That’s what she loved the most about him, his passion and love for music. Actually she didn’t have a favorite thing about him… he was just her favorite. For a while she got better, she quit her self-harm. She started to come out of the darkness. For he was with her holding her hand up this dark spiral staircase called depression. Her life got better with each kiss they shared. She knew he really cared. She was almost out of the darkness completely when he said they needed to talk, she knew these words all too well from movies and books. He let go of her hand… she stumbled and fell all the way down… all this hard work was for nothing. The darkness put its hands around her neck. This time there was no escape. She got worse every second he ignored her. The darkness attached its self to her brain making her in so much pain. She wanted to turn to self-harm but she refrained, he hated her cutting her wrists. Why did she still care what he thought? Because she still loved him and maybe there was still a piece of him that loved her… maybe. The darkness’s grip got tighter day by day. For the very first time she realized she wanted to stay. This masked darkness was really sick… the suffering of others is what made it tick. Who is this darkness, how can she get away from it? This made the darkness angry so he grabbed a rope and tied it around her neck. This made it clear, she couldn’t get away. Now this wasn’t a battle for happiness anymore… it was a battle for her life. The darkness had a machete and handed her a butter knife. It was clear who would win in the end. She thought she was already dead when he came down from the steps telling her he would always be her and kissing her slyly untying the rope. He handed her a gun, taught her how to shoot, kissed her one last time before disappearing up the stairs. At first she was puzzled, why did he just leave her? But as she really pondered the last hour a few questions came to mind. How hadn’t he seen the darkness or how hadn’t it seen him? Then it hit her, this was her battle, not his. For he had a battle of his own to fight. She slept soundly that night, remembering him. When she awoke the sudden brightness of day startled her. She looked at her surroundings surprised by the gun in her hand. She dropped the gun seeing gun powder residue on her palm. Had she really killed the darkness? She guessed she really did, but not alone, with his help. For he was the gun giving her the power. Once again he had helped her through her darkest hour. Now it’s time for her to find him to thank him and give him strength in his battle. This is the tale of a broken girl.

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