As Darkness Sets In. ☆Private!☆

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Bailey A. Crimson. That's the name my parents gave me. The only problem, I never really knew them. Now I am adopted because I was of course put up for it after they left me. For good. It's really hard for me nowadays... I am half-blind and abused... It is really bad sometimes... I walked into my room one day to find my foster dad with a chain held up. He almost chocked me to death that night... I couldn't sleep... they forced me to go without food for almost 5 days... I am still scrawny from those days they don't feed me. They lock me in my room at night, with no windows and no heat. Now, they are telling me to go to school, with all these scars on my wrists to prove, I am different from everyone... I guess I could say, I'm almost addicted to harming myself just to hide the pain of my life. It may be strange, hearing it from a blind person. That she has cut herself so many times, she knows exactly where to put the knife. If only someone understood how much it hurts... my life... my family... the school... They keep trying to pretend they are good parents when they meet new people... They tell me it's a simple game... and no one... no one should ever find out... I would like to hope that I have a real family... but I now know better than to hope for anything at all. Nothing's going to get better. It's just gonna get worse and worse everyday.

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I run outside to try and get away from the whipping. My back was burning and bleeding. My shirt ripped because the whip. Tears streamed down my face when I looked up at my foster parents. The result of my half-blindness is because my parents shot at it. They tried to murder me. I can't believe, that even when I breathe a single breath, They want me dead. I watch as they torture me more with the whip then I run out to the side of the street with my knife. I make sure no one is around and I cut my arm multiple times before breaking down in tears. I watched as my tears and blood mixed.

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I look at him in surprise, but nod. Following him inside, my eyes started to blur. I ignored it and held my hands to my now red shirt.

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I let him do so, but couldn't help but ask. "Why are you doing this for me...?" My voice sounded broken. My back was still wet with blood and my arms were the least of my concern.

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I watched quietly. I knew by the time I got home, my foster parents would ask where I'd been then beat it out of me. I see a few cuts on his arms as he works. "If you don't mind my asking... Do you cut...?" I ask, my voice pretty low. My grey eyes search his face for any hints.

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I lower my gaze. "I'm sorry... I should maybe leave..." I start taking my hands back and try to stand, only to find myself back on the floor. Maybe I've lost too much blood? I stand again, this time holding onto stuff.

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"But, I really must go... My parents..." I try to say to him. When he lifted up the back of my shirts, I winced in pain and held onto the counter harder.

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"But..." I say in pain. I think of my parents. How they wouldn't care about my cuts or my back.

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I nod, my hands still trembling. I looked at him once more and smile. "Thank you..." I whisper. My brown hair getting in my face, I pulled it away.

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"For helping me..." I reply, trying to keep steady. My heart pounded fast and hard.