Another bottle smashed against the wall. That was number 3 I think. I shrunk further into my 8 year old body, shielding myself from the spray of glass. Moms sobs echoed through the living room, but I couldn't feel empathy. Not after this. It was the 4th time this week she was having a meltdown like this. Where she went into an inconsolable rage, that would seem savage to anyone witness.

"Why did I leave?" She wailed. I tried to justify her actions by saying it was her medicine that made it happen this way, but she seemed to be even angrier when she ran out of it. "Why did I have you?" She screeched."I wish you were never born! You are a mistake!" My heart beat was irregular as I remained crouched behind the chair. "I should have stayed with Jonathan." She said that name a lot. She never told me who he was and when I asked, I received a slap to the face. My mother rarely struck me so I knew I shouldn't ask again. It seemed to be a sore subject for my mother. "And the kids." I could hear her starting to slip into unconsciousness. "The..the kids." She mumbled.

And then she was out. Like a light that had caught fire, she had once glowed proudly but with time she began to flicker and spark, eventually erupting into an uncaged ignition that burned everything in its past. But eventually she would go out all together.

I both dread and anticipate the day she does.

I'm more afraid of living as a mistake then dying as a failure. I was told my whole life that I was a mistake. But I was determined to not allow her to label me before I even got the chance to decide who I was. I was determined to become something that she could never call a mistake. But she was dead and it didn't matter anymore. The only person I was proving my worth to now was myself.

Sitting up in my bed, I wiped the dripping sweat off my forehead, pushing my hair off of my sticky tear stained cheeks.It was a common flashback. A scene from my childhood that seemed to not only repeat itself in my memories but in real life as well. I took a deep breath and slid off the bed, throwing on some workout clothes. I needed peace. I needed release from my own mind.

A mistake, she called me time and time again. Each time the sharpness of the phrase became less, like a knife wearing down with every use. I sought to prove her wrong while she was alive but it was no use. She didn't notice a medal or an A+ anymore than she noticed me myself.

Walking down the stairs, I looked for my running shoes almost frantically. I was falling down the rabbit hole. Slipping into my mind where I felt trapped by the insecurities my mother had implanted in me.

The second my shoes were on I was out the door.

I ran.

I ran from my nightmare, or rather flash back, I ran from the stress of my life in general, I ran from myself and my thoughts. I focused on the sound of my feet hitting the pavement, on the burning sensation in my thighs and calves, and the cold morning wind biting at my cheeks. As I picked up speed I lost balance and tripped over myself, landing on my face. My breathing was ragged and unsteady as I sat on the sidewalk.

With the gash on my knee I should feel pain, but all I felt was unbridled rage.

Rage at my mother for forcing me to need a release, rage at Marley for leaving me when I needed her most, rage at the brown eyed boy for bringing back pain I had desperately suppressed, and rage at me for not knowing how to save myself from it all.

I laid back on the concrete looking up at the sky where the sun was just coming up above the clouds, creating a beautiful orange glow. Sometimes I feel like I'm dying yet I'm never dead. Alive but not living. Breathing with no reason. As the adrenaline slipped out of me, so did my fiery anger. But when that fire is gone, what am I left with?

Nothing.

Emptiness is a far more bitter curse than any amount of pain I could ever feel. Because, when you feel nothing it is only a matter of time until you feel everything, and that tidal wave threatens to drown you each and every time.

I sat up, wincing as I now felt the aftermath of my fall.

The sun rose in the sky, now illuminating the road in front of me.

The anger was gone, the emptiness had set in, now I waited for everything to come and crash into me like a speeding train.

THE WORLD THAT WAS MINE

I am nothing. A blip on the radar at most, but more often than not, I am nothing. They have told me I am nothing, therefore I have come to believe that I am in fact nothing. And those of us who are nothing, expect nothing. That's why it was surprising when Lainey, Quinn, Naomi, Gavin and Reed all came up to me that morning.

I was sure that yesterday had been out of pity, and I would be an outcast today, but they shocked me when I was immediately swarmed by them, chattering voices filling my ears. I was quickly immersed into the cheerful conversation, finding a sense of ease around these people. Maybe it was the way they had chosen me as opposed to me choosing them. It felt nice to be genuinely wanted for once.

It was a feeling I had missed. Finally, after a few minutes the bell rang, Lainey dragged me off to Spanish class. I was just as hopeless with my understanding as I had been yesterday, but my failure seemed to be amusing to both Gavin and Lainey so it didn't bug me too much. After that, I spent most of my morning classes attempting to catch up what I had missed on the material they had covered in the few weeks before I arrived. It was a difficult task, but a doable one at that.

When I entered the last period before lunch, which happened to be math, my eyes met those same brown orbs that held the same desperation they had the day before. I hadn't noticed him yesterday, or perhaps he hadn't noticed me. I schooled my features to be cold and hostile, showing my pure hatred for him. Hatred did not come natural to me anymore than confidence, but memories of the pain those shimmering brown eyes had caused me, made it easy to loathe him. 45 minutes went by, none of them without me feeling his gaze burning holes in the back of my head. My finger curled around the yellow wood pencil with a death grip, as if that was all that was keeping me from hitting him square in the nose. Maybe I wouldn't do that, but ruler me certainly considered it before it was shut down by the all important logic.

By the time the bell rang, I couldn't be out the door fast enough. Over the course of the 45 minutes the room seemed to be getting smaller, cramping me in with my stress and anger.

"Izzy!" A hand wrapping around my wrist made me stop in my tracks. There he stood. Brown eyes shining, with the sad glint I wished would go away. Sadness was to be earned. He had not earned sadness.

"Izzy please I need to talk to you." He pleaded. I set my jaw, ripping my wrist from his grasp.

"Why are you here?" My voice was quiet, almost a whisper.

"We were shunned out of Brinley so we came to Harlan." He mumbled, embarrassedly.

"As they should." I had no pity for him or his family. How could I?

"It's about Marley-"

"Marleys dead."

"I know." He whispered sadly. He had no right to say her name. He had no right to talk about her. "I just need to talk to you."

I shook my head. "What could you possibly need me for?" I was aware of how harsh my words were biting but the fire in the pit of my stomach was burning brightly, illuminating the minuscule confidence I had.

"Closure." He sounded almost desperate, pleading.

"Closure? What kind of closure could you need?" I spat. "I only have one thing to say to you Brayden Calder." I looked him dead in the eye as his confidence was dissolving. "Fuck you." The words tasted like acid on my lips, in the best way possible. Like I was finally getting rid of the toxicity polluting my bloodstream.

I didn't wait for his reaction. Instead I turned on my heels, with my chin held high, and walked towards the cafeteria where I hoped my friends would be waiting. When I arrived, I was quickly beckoned over by my sister who was once again sitting in the middle of a crowded table, with the attention solely on her.

"Iz, c'mere!" She yelled, gesturing wildly. Quinn waved to me and pointed at an empty chair beside her. I smiled softly, seeing that they had left a seat open for me. I held up one finger telling Quinn I would be there in a second, and stood next to my sister.

"Everyone, this is my sister Izzy." She introduced me to the group of kids who looked at me with less than welcoming expressions. It was the same way I had been looked at by my peers for as long as I could remember, but each time it left a knot in my stomach.

"Izzy this is everyone." I waved.

"Hi everyone."

One red haired girl beside Emma scrunched her nose up when I spoke. "Where did she get that stupid accent from?" She sneered, making a few others laugh.

"Emma, she looks like an uglier version of you." Another girl snickered, earning another round of laughter from the shallow group.

"Like the Walmart version!" One boy yelled.

Shaking my head and I turned away, yet again letting them win. I could hear their snickers from behind me, and I prayed that my sister wasn't one of them. But she was. Because she would do anything for popularity, including laugh at a joke made at my expense. It hurt, but so did so many other things. Now, it was about finding somewhere else I was wanted. And right now that looked like a seat beside my new friends, where I was welcomed with open arms. It was my other option.

In this world there is always another option. Always another place to turn when things get rough.

But that other option is not always better. Sometimes in this world we are stuck between bad and worse, a rock and a hard place.

And when you're stuck it can be nearly impossible to find the strength to free yourself.

Especially when you're doing it alone.

A/N-I just posted a new story and I hope you will go check it out! It's called Butterfly and if you like this book I think you will like this one as well.

Thank you for 19 K reads on this story. It means so much to me

I went to high school and I survived! Thanks for the advice my loves I appreciate y'all so much.

This shows more of what Izzys life was like with her mom. It also gives insight to what she's feeling about the overwhelming amount of stress she is under. Sorry it's short!

See, I told you his name would mean nothing. Any way who do you think he is? What kind of closure did he need? Why is Izzy so mistrustful of him?

Vote and Comment!