Save Me.

I sat with my back pressed against the door, whispering a quiet prayer that my father would be unable to break through. He screamed at me, trying to scare me into opening the door, but I wouldn't move. I could feel the door shaking from his fists, and you could hear small cracking sounds if you listened close enough.

"Open this fucking door right now!" he yelled, slurring. I refused to listen, knowing what would happen if I did.

My father was drunk, as usual. He had gotten mad because I had ended up sneaking out of the house to visit my mother's grave. It had been a year since her death, which left me alone to take care of my father. I wouldn't have been too bothered by it, had he not been so abusive towards me. But he was.

After a while the pounding on the door became less rough. I knew that meant he was becoming exhausted from the alcohol. I decided that it was a good idea to move now, knowing that he wouldn't be able to get in at this point anyway.

I knew that I had to get out of the house, and soon. If I didn't, I would be dead before I reached my 21st birthday (I was 19 now). But before I could reach a final decision, I had to weigh the pros and cons of the situation. Leaving the house would be risky, considering that my father wasn't stupid. It would be quite easy for him to track me down.

Because I was already considered a legal adult, people questioned why I hadn't left the house already. The only reason I had hesitated was because he would most likely find me anyways. But at this point, I figured that I would be better off out of the house. Or dead.

Since my mother had died, I had been having some irrational thoughts, if you could call it that. I didn't think this was irrational thinking, but others may have a different view on it. Between her death and my father's abusive behaviors, things had not been looking up. It had started with self-harm and such, getting worse as time went on. The progression was quite visible thanks to the scars. But recently, my mind had been drifting more towards suicide.

I searched through my room for a minute, trying to find the things that I needed; my wallet, my phone, and my mp3 player. I didn't bother with packing any clothes. What would be the point if I would end up dead anyway?

I was thankful that my room was on the first floor, so I wouldn't have any trouble escaping. Double-checking to make sure I had my things, I opened the window. It squeaked, and I cursed at myself for forgetting about that little factor. I listened for any sounds from my father. All I could hear was snoring coming from him, meaning he would be asleep out for a while.

I slipped on my shoes and prepared myself to leave, glancing back for a moment before climbing out of it completely. I left the window as it was, knowing that it would only make more noise.

I didn't even bother starting out at a slow pace to leave. It was a full-on run. Yet considering the fact that I hadn't run in a while, I had to slow down after a couple of blocks. I had no idea where I was going. All I knew was that I was finally getting out of there.

After walking for a while I found a park. There weren't too many lights around, so it would be difficult to see me. I sat down and leaned against a tree and pulled out my wallet. I always kept a blade in there, just in case. I pulled it out and examined it for a minute.

C'mon you coward, just do it already, a voice whispered in my head.

I placed the blade to my left wrist, figuring out how deep I would have to go for the cut to kill me. Someone's yelling halted my thoughts, and the voice was soon followed by footsteps. I paid no mind to the person and sliced once. It wasn't as deep as I had hoped, but it was a start. The blood started to flow out, leaving small traces going down my wrist. I did the same to the right and got the same reaction.

The slow process was unsatisfying me. I took the blade to my left wrist again, now with a vertical aim. The cut went deeper this time, creating a more dramatic result.

By now the footsteps were getting closer, and I started to panic.

"Jimmy get your tall ass back here before you get lost!" I heard someone yell. The voice was pretty close to me. Afraid that someone would find me, I got up and ran towards a large bush. Before I could make it there, I ran into something.

Or, rather, someone.

"Hey I know we've never met but you wanna hide with me?" He asked with excitement. I didn't even have enough time to respond before he grabbed my hand and started pulling me towards him. "Great!"

We went to the large bush I planned on running to, and hid there. I may not have known this guy at all, but he made whatever we were doing, fun. We sat there for a couple of minutes before we heard a rustling. "I'm gonna hope to God that's just a mouse," he muttered.

"Not quite a mouse," someone chuckled from above us. We both looked up, and the man next to me let out a groan.

"Come on, Zacky! I was having fun!"

"I know Jimmy but we-- Hold on, who's this?" The guy named Zacky asked, looking at me.

"This is uh.. Fuck, what's your name?" 'Jimmy' asked me.

"Emily," I replied, although I wasn't sure he could hear it. Jimmy grinned and started talking about how much he loved the name and such.

Zacky looked at me and held out a hand to help me up. "Sorry about him," he muttered. "He does this a lot."

Jimmy held his hand up for a high five. "That was fun," he said, grinning when I slapped his hand. From the corner of my eye I could see Zacky's eyes widening.

"Hey Jimmy, is that a squirrel over there?" Zacky mentioned, pointing to behind him. Jimmy's eyes widened, running in the direction Zacky pointed at. Once he was gone, Zacky turned to me.

"So uh, is there any specific reason there's blood on your hand?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

I stared at him, confused for a moment before I remembered what happened before I met them.

I began to feel nauseous and before I could respond, I passed out.

Notes

I'll be posting all the chapters I have so far from my Mibba account onto here. Should only take a little bit, hopefully.