A scream stuck in your throat hurts because you're trying so.. so hard not to make a sound to alert others you're hurting. Instead of telling others you're hurt.. you hurt yourself more so they don't think you're doing it all for attention. It's like a heavyweight pushing itself down inside your mouth and the scream in your head is louder than the thumping of your heart or the hitting of fists on your skin.

Her fists on my skin, each new hit causes a blue polka dot on my pale canvas that soon will be splattered in black red and blue. She pushes my head into the bed and slams into me a couple hundred times till she breathlessly says to me that i'm a piece  of crap and that a monstrous charity case of a child like me should have never been born. She says it every day and even though she is my mum she shows no sign of love for me at all.

She leaves my room and I am left in my bed with a busted lip, a bruised jaw and probably several broken ribs.
You see blood is a funny thing because even if your only banged up a bit you somehow leak more than you produce. It stains everything and every time you look at it (the stain) you will again be reminded of your pain.

The ring tone of my flip phone went off. Yay school, just another thing to add to my "why I hate living pile".
I get up from the creaking pile of springs tear off my bloody clothes and put on a grey school outfit. I wash my face and head to hell's playground for hellions.