{Sad Eyes And Black Eyeliner} Ryan Ross

Italics are diary entries
"I HATE YOU!" I screeched with ever ounce of energy i had left. My father,the man of the house,the man i never feared,loomed over me. Beer bottle in one hand,belt in the other. It was 12:30,or 2:30,i know he started at 12:30 but i wasn't sure of the time now. He was drunk,to drunk to get all the hits he aimed for. He wasn't drunk enough to hit me though. And he had,over and over until this point. I was laying on the floor. Not in the fetal postion,never in the fetal postion. He needed to be shown i wasn't afraid of him. He could slur all the words he wanted,but i wasn't going to flinch. I was waiting for the next hit,my body was prepared for it.
"Youz hatezz mez?"
His voice was horribly slurred. He stumbled back a couple of steps before falling on the couch. He was out. I laid there and watched the lights dance on the ceiling. We only had two streetlights on my street. That's because we lived in the 'lower' part of town. No one would help me,i could scream until my lungs gave out,but no one would come to the door. My neighbors never asked questions when they saw the bruises. Or when they saw me standing in the rain on the porch instead of in my nice warm bed. They didn't care. And it had gotten to the point where i didn't care either.
My name is Jade Black. I'm 16 years old. I live on the outskirts of Las Vegas. It's not a great place, and i can't wait to get out of it. I'm considered weird,a 'starving artist'. It wasn't something i could help. Music and writing keep me alive. Well,alive for the moment. I live with my father. Who is suppose to be such a decent guy. He's a police officer. 5 'brave' years now. My mother died when i was 5. I never knew her,but i remember the smell of her. Does that make sense? She smelled of powder and roses. I still had the little stuffed dog she bought me just because it was Friday. I remember loving my mother,and i think she loved me. But my father never did. He didn't want a kid,that was clear to me. The beatings started when i was 11 years old. I dropped a glass and it shattered. My father slapped me across the face. It was only a slap,but it opened a portal and suddenly i was a human punching bag. There wasn't much i could do. No one liked me around here,and my father was a cop. Why would they believe me? It would just start more trouble and make my life worse. If that's even possible. I didn't mind the beatings, i can live with them. It's the things he says about my mother. He knows how much it hurts me. He'll tell me that she never loved me. That i was a mistake that happened when they were both drunk. I didn't know if it was true,but i sure didn't believe it.
Flashback
11-10-05
"You know your just like her"
Father told me tonight.
I was serving dinner after a long day of school and cleaning the house. He was sitting there,already on his third beer. I had it planned,just shut up and you won't get hit. But he brought up mother.I had clutched onto my plate in order to keep my mouth shut. I really tried,but he just kept talking.
"She thought she was tough to. Look where it got her,six feet under"
He never told me how mother had died,but i know i shouldn't believe him. He called me a mistake again tonight. He said mother wanted to kill me before i was born. I didn't mean to,but i told him it wasn't true. I guess that's why i have a bruised hipbone right now.
God,take me now.
End Flashback
After an agonizing crawl up the steps,i glanced at myself in the mirror. I hated what i saw. Messy black hair that hung a couple inches below my shoulders.Big emotionless grey eyes. Sad eyes. My nickname my mother use to call me. I remember that. I wrote it in my diary over and over. It proved to me that she loved me. Nicknames meant feelings in my mind. My lips were slightly swollen from were i bit them earlier. My mascara and eyeliner had mixed together and left small clumps at the tips of my lashes. I softly took the soap and washed my face. I had a nice welt on my arm.
Long sleeves tomorrow
Being a cop,father knew not to hit my face. No marks to prove anything. On occasion he would,and he made me stay home until they went away. But he had been to drunk to aim anywhere,so no bruises tonight. I lifted my shirt and looked at the mirror. Bloody welts and cuts were on my back. I undressed,pain shooting through me everytime i moved,and turned on the shower. Steam rose from behind the glass. I looked through the steamy mirror and wrote 'sad eyes' with my finger. I opened the class,and stepped in,letting the blistering hot water,burn my already burning body.
~~~~The Next Morning~~~~
I awoke in more pain then i had been in that night. My alarm was going off. I quickly shut it off and crawled out of bed. It took me alot longer to get dressed. I was almost late so i had to rush though every part of my body begged me to slow down. I finally got my dusty converses on and applied eyeliner. I put on some lipgloss and brushed my hair. I walked gingerly down the steps and found father where he had dropped. His arms were hanging over the couch,the beer bottle was at his side. I shook my head and went to the kitchen were i grabbed a piece of paper.
Father
We're getting history projects today. We're getting partnered up. I'm going to the library after school with my partner. I don't know who it is yet. I'll be home in time to cook dinner.
Jade
I put it next to the coffee machine where i knew he would find it, and walked out the door into the sun. I was wearing a black long sleeved shirt that was to tight for comfort with all the bruises and cuts. I tucked my hands into my dark jeans and put my head down. My bag banged painfully against my bruised body,but i was already cutting it close. I walked as fast as i could without actually running,the 9 blocks to school.
I hope you liked it. Let me know please and thank you.