Page 1 of Saving Tracey
Chapter One
Iwatched the blood slowly run down my arm and drip off of my fingertips with a blank, forlorn expression on my face as I desperately waited to finally succumb to the darkness, wanting nothing more than to leave this tragic life.
Time after time, I had tried to kill myself, to leave this shitty ass life that I was forced to live, yet my mother always found me–no matter where I went–and she always stopped the bleeding or forced me to throw up any pills that I had swallowed. I didn’t know how she always knew I was trying to kill myself, but it was like she had a sixth sense for it.
She didn't want to be left here alone with him–my father–and she was determined to keep me in this hell hole of a life with her for as long as she possibly could, even if that meant forever. She only cared about herself, and to say that I hated her guts was an understatement.
My mother wasn't the kind of mother to always put her daughter first, and my father wasn't the kind of father that wanted to beat up the guys that tried to date his little princess. My parents weren't normal parents; in fact, they were far from it.
No, instead she was the kind of mother that looked out for herself instead of her child. He was the kind of father that beat up his little princess instead of the boys she brought home.
It had been like this for as long as I could remember. I honestly couldn’t remember a time in my life when things had been simple, easy, and fun.
I jerked my head to the side to look at my bathroom doorway when I heard the handle jiggle to my bedroom door, watching with blank eyes as my mother barged into my room and rushed over to my bathroom, knowing instantly where I would be. I sighed in agitation as I leaned my head back against the wall with a slight bang, listening as she scrambled out of my bathroom to go get her first aid kit.
I could hide out a mile into the woods, and this woman would still make it to me before I could die.
She came back into my bathroom with a first aid kit clutched in her bony, slender fingers, and she instantly began wrapping up my arm to stop the bleeding. Her dull, brown eyes met my own, not a hint of sympathy in their soul-sucking depths. "You're not leaving me here alone with him, Tracey,” she muttered, glaring hard into my eyes. I just stared back at her blankly. "Stop trying,” she snarled quietly.
Those were her parting words as she left my room. I sighed and dropped my face into my hands, the tears falling down my face as soon as I heard my bedroom door shut behind her, and I knew that I was alone again.
I couldn't keep doing this. I couldn't keep living like this.
I walked down the hallway of my high school, being extra careful not to accidentally bump into or brush against anyone. I hatedhuman contact, and I did everything in my power to avoid touching someone or allowing anyone to touch me.
The school that I went to was for the entire county, and it was huge, holding one too many loud, reckless teenagers. I honestly preferred to be anywhere else but here, but God forbid I skipped school even one day withouthisdamn permission. And like hell was I asking him anything.
I may not survive that skipping, and I was determined to leave this world by my own choice. I wouldn’t let him take that from me, too.
I walked into the commons area of the school, where pretty much all the students were gathered, and stayed off on my own toward the back of the school, leaning against the wall near the English and history hallway.
My school was like most high schools. There were obvious cliques, and everyone had their own little group of friends.
Then, there was me.
No one really knew me, nor did anyone really know much about me. I knew quite a bit about a few people by listening to others talk, but I never tried to talk to anyone or get to know anyone myself.
I wasn't supposed to talk to people in school–a rule of my dad's–and besides, it wouldn't really do me any good to get close to someone, to gain a friend. In the end, not making friends was just better for everyone.
I didn't want anyone to be hurt or sad when I was finally gone. I didn't want anyone to suffer because they missed me.
Life was a lot simpler when I only had myself to worry about.
When the bell rang for first block, I walked off toward my class quickly, desperately trying to avoid the crowds as everyone quickly began filing off toward the hallways where their first block classes were located.
There was a slight ache in my body as I walked, but I was so used to the soreness by then that it hardly ever fazed me. Someone could poke my bruises, and I probably wouldn’t even flinch.
No—what always hurt was getting thefreshones.
I sat in my seat in the back corner of the classroom like I always did and kept my eyes cast down toward the top of my desk, focusing on the scratches and writing on it from the years of misuse.
On any normal day, I always did my best to avoid everyone at school, and normally, I succeeded, but I guessed that luck wasn't on my side that day.
Someone tapped my shoulder, and I flinched away instinctively, my heart pounding erratically in my chest as I prepared myself for a blow. However, when I slowly looked up, my eyes locked onto a pair of pretty blue ones. The eyes looking down at me didn't seem cold or harsh at all. In fact, they were extremely warm and friendly.
I let my eyes trail over the guy's facial features quickly. His skin was tanned, and his lips were a little chapped, most likely from the wind. Dark hair fell over onto his forehead a little in slight disarray.
I instantly recognized him as Kaleb Brinson.
