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Letting Go is a story about a young girl, Dezeray, who has had a rough life. She's been through ups and downs; riddled with depression and dark thoughts. She learns quickly that life is cruel and unpredictable as things seem to go wrong with every coming day. As she hits rock bottom, she's not sure what's truly to come, or if there is anything left for her. She meets new people, some good, some bad, but they all help shape who she is. And, as things crash down, only to rise back up, she learns what it truly means to let go.

Dezeray pulls her jacket tighter around herself as she heads out the door, the yelling being muffled by the door closing. It had been a stressful morning, as usual, for her. Her foster parents had been arguing over something stupid again. She made her way down the quiet street, her key chains clinking the only sound as it echoed off the houses that surrounded her. She was an only child, at this point at least. She was lonely, having only a few friends and no real family left. She'd gone to this school for a while, but she hadn't made many friends and didn't really want to either. She was fine by herself. She was fine with everything being quiet, calm, no stress. But, could she really expect that to happen. Her foster parents always fought. They always got on her case about not doing well in school, even though she was getting all A's, and for not being social. She hated it. It brought her so much stress. She didn't understand why they couldn't just leave her alone. She was fine as is and doesn't need to change. But obviously, her opinion doesn't matter, it never does. Her real parents had loved her for who she was and not what they wanted her to be. She desperately missed her real parents. They had been so close. She knew they were gone. She knew she'd never see them again, but she didn't want it to be true. Yet it was. And, she was reminded every year on the anniversary of their death.

She made her way through the big, crowded school, avoiding everyone. She hated school, but didn't most high school students? She opened her locker, after struggling with the stupid lock, and grabbing her text book, looking at the picture of her parents that was tapped to the door. As class started, it seemed like it would be the same as every other day; boring. She was exceptionally good at art, which she had found out at a young age. She took out her old, beaten up, sketch book. It had all her best drawings in it. She flipped through it, seeing the many drawings, the one of her parents, a butterflies wing, a silhouette of a couple holding hands, and a bunch of others. All of them expressed how she felt and how her life seemed to play out. She turned to one of the last blank pages and started drawing. She wasn't really sure what to draw, but she never actually did whenever she started drawing, which was quite often. She could hear the teacher, Mrs. Lor, droning on in the background, though she couldn't care to pay attention. Especially on bad days, like today, it was all she could do to get through the day and the stress.

"Dezeray" Comes the annoyingly sweet voice of Mrs. Lor.

"Uh.... yes?" Dezeray asks, looking up at her teacher.

"You didn't answer the question."

"Oh... uh..."

"Who is the second president to be assassinated while in office?"

"Garfield." Dezeray answers, thankful that she'd actually known the answer.

"Right."

With that, the teacher continued to lecture about presidents and such, which honestly bored Dezeray, which caused her to zone out and daydream, which she did often. Her mind always wandered to the possibility of having a normal life. Still being with her real parents. She liked to imagine always being happy and smiles and having the motherly love she so desperately missed. She also liked to imagine what her boyfriend would be like; if she had the courage to actually talk to someone. But, in her daydreams, she was a confident, outgoing girl who was popular and perfect. She imagined her boyfriend would have long brown hair and smokey grey eyes with flecks of gold. She liked to imagine that he had a deep, husky voice and was kind and caring. The bell rang, bringing her out of her daydream. She was packing up her stuff when Mrs. Lor called Dezeray over to her desk. She finished packing up her stuff and headed over to the desk nervously.

"Yes?" Dezeray asks nervously, tucking some of her auburn hair behind her ear.

"I know you don't have the best home life Dezeray, but you've got to pay attention during class. I've seen your grades and they are really good, but you've been becoming more distant everyday, and I'm worried about you."

"I'm really sorry Mrs. Lor, I'll try harder, I promise."

"Alright. Just remember, you can talk to me if you ever need to."

Dezeray nods, sending Mrs. Lor a small smile. She heads out of class and back to her locker, where she switched out her text books and headed to her next class, which went much like the first. She got another talk after that class as well, and honestly, she was sick of it. All the teachers somehow knew about her past and her home life and they had so much sympathy for her, and she was annoyed. She just wanted a normal life, but she doubted that that would ever actually happen. She brought herself out of her thoughts as she entered her third hour, which was her favorite class, art. Not only did she get to work on her art, she got to see her only real friend, Aurey. Aurey immediately lit up when She walked into the classroom. She just laughed and walked over to her seat beside Aurey and sat down.

"I've got amazing news!" Aurey says excitedly, practically bouncing in her chair.

"Calm down, it can't be that important." Dezeray says jokingly.

"But it is!"

"Alright, alright, what is it?"

"You know the new student, right?"

Dezeray nods, urging Aurey to continue before she explodes from excitement.

"Well.... he likes you!"

"Likes me?"

"Yeah, like, like likes you! I heard he was gonna ask you out!"

"Oh lord" Dezeray says, on edge about the whole thing.

Dezeray wasn't honestly sure how to feel. The new kid was cute. He has short blonde hair and baby blue eyes. He is tall and muscular. And, captain of the football team. But, she didn't really know how anyone could actually like her. She didn't think she was cute by any means. Her long auburn hair was always a mess and her blue-green eyes, for as much as she loved them, others found them weird. She didn't find herself all that thin either, and she was on the shorter side. Her skin was so incredibly pale as well.

"Earth to Dez." Aurey says, waving her hand in Dezeray's face, attempting to get her attention.

"What?" Dezeray asks confused.

"You gotta stop daydreaming girl."

"My life is better in the dreams though." Dezeray mutters as the teacher, Mr. Rokaw, starts instructing.

Dezeray actually manages to complete something in this class. It was a project she'd been working on for weeks, a painting of a young girl being swung between her mother and father's arms. She thought it turned out okay, but Mr. Rokaw absolutely loved it. He even wanted to put it in the art show. When it finally came time to go home, she was thankful. Not that she really wanted to go home, but because she was away from all the people who gave her sympathy, and that's the last thing she wanted. She put her earbuds in and cranked up the volume on her music. Music was one of her escapes, one of the only things that kept her sane. When she reached her house, she wasn't surprised that her foster parents weren't home. They never even considered her; she liked to think they were avoiding her, avoiding all the drama she brought, which wasn't really any.

In reality, she was this shy, quiet girl who loved music and art; who loved the quiet, calm of night. She was what most would consider a perfect child, but her foster parents treated her like absolute shit. It made her question how they were legally able to foster her. She made her way to the small room she called hers and sat her bag down, kicking off her shoes. She went into the kitchen and grabbed a can of pop and a bag of chips. She was surprised that they'd actually gotten what she asked for, which didn't happen often. She pondered the idea that they had finally started liking her, but even she laughed at that. It wasn't until she heard the front door slam shut, over her music, that she knew it was going to be a rough night. Whenever her mom came home angry, she knew she would get yelled at and scolded. She knew that when her dad got home, that he'd be angry too and side with mom.

"How many fucking times do I have to tell you to quit leaving your fucking dirty paint brushes in the kitchen sink Dezeray?" Mom yells as she bursts through the door to Dezeray's room.

"Sorry, I'll go take care of it." Dezeray mutters, turning off her music and heading into the kitchen.

She grabs her paint brushes from the sink, running water through the bristles, watching the colors all swirl down the drain. They all washed away, leaving the brushes dull and plain, just waiting to be used to create beautiful works of art again. She dried them off as she headed back to her room, where she put the brushes among the dozens of others that she owned. She turned her music back on as she flips open her sketch book. She looked at the drawing she had started earlier. It was an Indian girl sitting on a cliff edge, her long, dark brown hair flowing in the wind, creating a dramatic look. But, like most of her drawings, had something that reflected her life, which in this case, was the sad, longing look on the girls face. It was actually a really good drawing, one of her better ones, really. She looks up from the drawing as she hears yelling over her music. She just knew that tonight her foster parents were in a much worse mood than usual.

"Dezeray." Her mom yells.

Dezeray took off her headphones and made her way to the living room, dreading what was going to happen, for it couldn't be anything good, it never was. She sheepishly entered the room, already scared by the angry looks on her foster parents faces.

Her dad puts a piece of paper in front of her face "What the fuck? A C in math?"

Dezeray gulped as she felt her heart drop. She hadn't done any worse than a 90% on any of her tests and she'd gotten all of her homework in. There must be some misunderstanding, surely.

"I...." Dezeray starts nervously.

"Don't even try. You're grounded, no tv, no friends, no drawing, for two weeks."

Dezeray felt her stomachs tie itself in knots as the information hit her. She wasn't going to be allowed to have her sketch book, which meant he was going to take it and do only god knows what to it. She didn't want him to take it, not only because it has her best drawings in it, but because its one of the only things she has left from her actual parents.

"Please don't take my sketch book." Dezeray pleads, hoping he'd be nice for once.

He just sends her a glare, heading out of the room. Dezeray followed and watched as her sketch was taken. He left quickly and went to his room, locking the door. He knows how much that sketch book means to her. He knew exactly why she was so protective of it. She so desperately wished for her real mom to be there, to comfort her, to tell her everything was going to be okay, even though she wasn't sure it would be. She sat in her room and cried, unable to bring herself to face her foster parents. She was breaking on the inside. Slowly and painfully. She felt each little crack grow and grow. She couldn't take it. She brought a blade to her wrist, slowly cutting a thin line.

Her terrible foster parents.

Another cut.

All the people who have her sympathy.

Another cut.

All the years of being lonely.

Another cut.

Every tear she shed.

Another cut.

Every forced smile.

Another cut.

Every horrifying nightmare.

Another cut.

Every sweet memory turned sour.

Another cut.

Every moment spent grieving.

Another cut.

The moment her parents died.

Another cut, though this one deeper.

She dropped the blade with a sob. She hoped tomorrow would be better, for she couldn't take anymore days like today. She couldn't continue to live like she was. She was very thankful when she heard the front door open and close twice, signaling that her foster parents had left. Her dad had probably gone to a bar and her mom had probably gone out gambling with her friends. This meant that she'd have at least an hour to herself, which she knew would be spent crying and trying to get through life pretending to be okay. After a long while, composing herself, she ordered pizza and awaited the delivery man. She ate a lot of pizza now a days. Her foster parents were always gone and there was never anything to eat around the house. After she thanked the delivery guy and gave him the money, she went back to her room and ate some of the pizza.

She knew when she heard the close roughly and angry grumbling that her dad was home. She also knew that when he stumbled into her room that she was screwed. He stumbled over to Dezeray, pinning her to the bed and slamming his lips on hers, kissing her roughly. She was disgusted and horrified. She turned her head, not allowing him to have his way. She brought her leg up and pushed him back, scrambling off the bed. She wasn't going to let this happen again. He glared at her and punched her, making her recoil in pain. She could feel her eye swelling up, already knowing there will be bruises. She pushes him out of the room and slams the door shut, locking it. She collapses on her bed, burying her face in her pillow as the tears started pouring down her face, which was sore, bruised, and hurting. All she could do was cry and cry and hope that everything would be better tomorrow.

Next Chapter

Date: Monday, November 30th, 2015 01:34 am (UTC)
scaredykitty: (Default)
From: [personal profile] scaredykitty
Greetings! Just a reminder, this needs to be put under a read more, thank you!

Date: Monday, November 30th, 2015 01:42 am (UTC)
scaredykitty: (Default)
From: [personal profile] scaredykitty
Thank you! <3

Date: Monday, November 30th, 2015 06:57 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Scaredykitty showed signs of life! Wow, woohoo, yippee!

You're one of my favorite authors here. I've read all of your stuff.

-the lurkiest lurker

Date: Monday, November 30th, 2015 07:13 am (UTC)
scaredykitty: (Default)
From: [personal profile] scaredykitty
I mean, I do try and pretend to be a good mod still, so I show up sometimes. XD

Date: Monday, November 30th, 2015 11:42 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Like when someone forgets to put a cut on something.

-TLL

Date: Monday, November 30th, 2015 11:46 am (UTC)
scaredykitty: (Default)
From: [personal profile] scaredykitty
It's the easiest thing to check for, hence the "pretend at being a good mod" part. :P The rest relies a bit on people telling me there's an issue, usually.

Date: Monday, November 30th, 2015 12:03 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Now I know how to get your attention. XD

Have you been writing anything recently?

-TLL

Date: Monday, November 30th, 2015 12:24 pm (UTC)
scaredykitty: (Default)
From: [personal profile] scaredykitty
Yes, best way to get my attention, do something wrong XD

Yes, but in a different fandom, also some writing in game for a text based mud thing, designs (like describing clothes, etc). Not as prolific as I use to be, alas.

Date: Monday, November 30th, 2015 06:55 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
:(

Will this get better? I love it, but... :(

-the lurkiest lurker

Date: Tuesday, December 1st, 2015 06:29 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Nooooooooooooo!

-TLL

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