LEB (Little Emo Book)

I felt like I was seeing things in third person once more. My mother's voice screamed at me, calling my name as well as other things in the most vile way. My gaze slid to the empty wine bottle that laid little ways away from the couch.

She had drunk tonight.

She always drinks.

As usual, I stood before her, getting screamed at. My body shook in anger as I felt like my brain was pulsating against my head. The ringing in my ears still hadn't stopped. It would never stop. I was cursed with chaos.

My life was like a bottomless, black pit of nothingness. I felt like I was no longer alive, that life wasn't worth living for.

A picture of my brother and sister came to mind, making my cold insides warm up again.

I would only live for them.

"Nevaeh!" I averted my attention back to the drunken widow as she swayed in place. She gave me a sloppy, lopsided grin and said, "Get the fvck out." Listening to her, I turned around and exitted the living room, grabbing the twins chubby arms with me.

They had seen the whole thing.

I escorted them to their room, praying that mother wasn't following behind us like she had done the night before. "Go to bed Ashley, Mason." The two brunettes simply did as they were told. It was the normal routine when mother got drunk any way.

This day was normal for me.

Silence rang throughout the house. Mother's drunken slurs ceased, and only the T.V continued to stay on. I contemplated on turning it off, but shook my head. It would only lead into another unwanted fist fight.

Still, even with this seemingly normal thing, I headed to the bathroom. I shut the green door behind me and locked both of the locks. I opened the cabinet and grabbed my best friend. It was the only friend I had.

Razor.

Once I closed the cabinet door I was face to face with my own reflection. I stared at the mirror, at the girl with hazel eyes and brown hair. Her carmel, tearstained face loooked back at me with a feeling of nothingness flowing inside her.

I knew the feeling all too well.

Still staring at myself, pulling up my sleaves, I positioned the blade over my forearm and slwoly started to pull it down. I watched as my facial expression winced in slight pain before nothingness once more. I looked down at my arm, covered in small crimson droplets of blood . . .

Cutting would only help ease the pain for so long.