Talk:Kick/@comment-15582776-20140117043119

This is a story I wrote that just popped into my head and I really wanted to show you.

I sat on my bed and glanced at my surroundings. A knife was at the center, the same knife I've been using for almost three years. I looked at the scars on my arm as a reminder that I was doing this for a reason. In the next minute I had drawn the blade across my stomach twice. In just one week I was about to turn sixteen. Ever since my mother died in a car accident when I was only a newborn, my dad had to work much more than he ever had to. He's never been here to celebrate my birthday. Most of the time he can't get off on Christmas Day.

I blasted my music as I attempted to do my algebra homework. The sound of my favorite songs somehow soothed me as if I was being nestled by a loved one. My friend Delilah is the only one that has been there for me, yet she is the complete opposite of me. She's athletic, pretty, popular, and I'm just what they call "emo". I really don't care what anyone says, though. Being bullied at age six because I wore black everyday? That still happens today. I've learned to live with people's opinions on me, no matter how much I truly despise that person.

My phone buzzed. If there was one thing that could make me want to bash my head into a wall, it was Delilah's lack of proper English when she texts. I think I may be one of the only people out there who actually follow the rules of speaking correctly.

The message said "R u busy 2nite???? I wanted 2 go 2 Luigi's. U in????"

I looked outside. There was smoke off in the distance, like it is twice a month. I knew I couldn't go with Delilah tonight. I had to go to the smoke in the woods. It was calling me.

If there's one thing about me no one knows, not even my father...is that I, Azalea Hoult, am a demon.