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EDITED: listen people, if you're here to read this then imma just say that i was 15 when i wrote this (16 now) but either way, i'm not 21 and no one i know drinks, so I DON'T KNOW how this whole thing works. please just ignore this little loophole and don't comment about it because a lotta ppl have been saying that this isn't how getting drunks works. i'm sorry about that... i just didn't know. thank you :)
Maybe I should wear a turtleneck for a few days? Is that visible? Why can't schools let you wear hoodies? Maybe I should just skip school for a few days...? No, then that'll raise questions my dad's probably not going to answer.
Is the cut that visible? Do people even notice me in school? It doesn't matter right. I mean, I could get ridiculed for wearing turtleneck, but it isn't something I've never seen. People tease me all the time for wearing a hoodie in the summer. One time, I designed a cool temporary tattoo on my face to hide a cut. Of course, I didn't add anything onto the cut itself, but I designed around it.
It wasn't that bad, but people make fun of me all day for that. I guess people don't miss a chance when they have the chance to bring someone down.
Was it really my fault that I don't want to show off my scars and cuts? If the school found out about them, they'd put my dad in jail and ship me off to foster care. I don't want to go into the foster care system.
I've seen kids in the foster care system. I've seen them fighting against the world daily. And if they aren't lucky enough to get adopted, they end up on the streets.
I don't want to end up on the streets. I want to stay in one place and work my way towards a good future. As long as my dad doesn't try anything other than beating me, we're good.
And besides, I just have to put up with him for one more month and then I'm a legal adult who can do whatever the fuck she wants. I'll go to college with the money I've been saving up for the past three years and then I'll save up in more for graduate school. I'll get myself a job and then I'll be set. I'll be okay.
I will be okay.
I groan as the cut begins to bleed more, seeping slowly out of my body. "Damn," I grumble. Most people don't know how much they're capable of bleeding before they black out. All I know is that I can last a long time when blood is pouring out of a cut in my body. I haven't blacked out yet, so I guess I still don't know my limit.
I clean off the blood from the crook of my neck, carefully nursing it. At least it wasn't a few inches to the middle of my neck, because that would have killed me. Before I would even know what freedom tastes like...
"Bailey!" I jump, flinching at the pain I just caused myself. "I ran out of drinks... Buy more."
I slowly step out of the bathroom, to face my dad sprawled over the rusty, tattered couch, holding an empty bottle of beer. It's easy for me to buy drinks around here because almost every bar knows my dad and over the years, they've learned more about me too.
I don't drink. I don't smoke. I'm not going to let those demons ruin my life like they ruined my dad.
So the store owners feel pretty secure handing me a bottle of beer, knowing that it will never reach my lips. My dad hands me a few bills. "Here, come straight home. Hurry up."
I quickly nip from the money from his hands and leave the house. I grab the pocket knife on the shelf nearby, which I usually carry when going out.
I guess nursing my cut will have to wait...
I throw my hoodie over my head, hopefully hiding the blood. Thankfully, it's a black sweatshirt which means that I have a while before the blood starts showing. I grip my pocket knife, knowing that there are a bunch of criminals around this area.
I live in the hood. Or at least that's what everyone calls it. Prostitutes pull up in a big van around night, while you can hear gunshots early in the morning. During the day, you can find people dealing drugs, exchanging money. That sort of thing.
But the average citizen of our neighborhood is probably better to stay away from because most of them are horny, thirsty, perverts who are high on a daily basis.
I'm not saying everyone here is bad.
There are some who can't afford any other place to live so are living here until they can leave. But you rarely see anyone decent on these streets. I'm just speaking from experiences.
I approach the nearest store, who's owner is pretty nice. He used to be nicer up until a year ago when his son was shot by the police because they suspected he had drugs in his car. He didn't have drugs in his car.
I've known him for almost my whole life. He would take me out to a park where actual kids play and hasn't been turned into a drug dealing center. He would sometimes even take me to museums. I've known him for longer than those cops and I knew that he had been clean his entire life.
But in a rotten world like ours, you can't expect to do good and expect the same in return.
"Hello, Bailey. The usual, I'm guessing?"
"Yeah," I smile dryly, handing him the money. "How come you haven't restocked the milk since last week?"
"No one buys that around here anymore. I'm just losing money if I think to restock the milk. I diverted the money for that to buying cigarettes and drinks."
"Oh."
"Yeah. How's your day been?"
"The usual."
"Here's the bottle. I don't think I need to tell you that it's for people above 21, right?"
"You know this shit ain't going into my body."
"That's good. Don't let drugs and alcohol take hold of your life. But you can always take a sip when you need it," He smiles, his eyes twinkling humorously.
"That's what my dad did after mom left. I guess he needed a lot of it," I return a sad smile, sighing. I don't remember much of it since I was only three, but my family was fine back then. It was more than fine. My dad was so deeply in love with my mom, he did everything for her.
But one day my mom was gone. Just like that. My dad went mad. Just like that.
I take the bottle of beer in my hands and wave Mr. Rodriguez goodbye. Just like my dad said, I started walking straight home. I didn't take any diversions, nothing. Halfway to my apartment, I hear someone call out my name.
"This is where you live?" I hear a snicker from behind me. "Is that bottle for you?" I find myself gripping my pocket knife as I spin around, facing whoever said that.
"I don't drink."
"Oh come on, all people in the hood drink," The girl declares, smirking. The group she's with nods along with her, their eyes seeking more spice into this situation.
"Make her drink it," One of them suggests, earning approving looks from the rest of the group. I quickly put the beer bottle behind my back.
"What are you doing around here anyway?"
"We were just exploring different parts of town."
"You came here for drugs," I point out.
"Great job, you figured it out!" One of them fake cheers, just to annoy me.
"Then get them and leave."
"Oh come on, the fun has just started," The black haired girl pouts. Someone snatches the beer bottle from my hand and hands it to a blonde girl who pops it open with surprising ease. "Just a sip."
"You're not going to make me drink."
"You're such a loser, dude." Stupidly, I lose cognizance of my surroundings and someone pins my arms behind my back. Fuck, these girls are strong. Almost easily, the girl pushes me forward. I close my eyes, keeping my mouth tight shut. I'm not going to drink. I won't end up like my dad.
I have a future. A brighter future.
One of them kicks my shin, causing me to yelp. Using this as a chance one of them pours the raw alcohol into my mouth. I kick her, causing her to stumble backward, and loosen my grip from the girl holding me.
But there are five girls. And one of me. Now three of them are gripping me tight. "What kind of sadists are you?" I growl, fighting harder and harder to loosen their hold on me.
"We're just having fun," One of them snickers. "And what's this? A pocket knife? I guess you really do need these around here, as long as you know how to use them." The girl tosses the pocket knife to another. This one holds it against my neck.
"Open wide. Or lose your life. We're in a place where crime happens everyday. No one's going to care. Not that they would either way." She presses the knife against my neck.
It's just once. Just once. Just once. Never again. Never again. This is better than dying.
And so I drink it. I feel things around me starting to blur, and my composure slowly turns into nothing. "Empty the bottle."
"Are you sure that's a good idea...?" One of them asks. Or something... I don't even know what I'm hearing. When the bottle weighs nothing, I drop it, hearing it shatter on the ground, and then collapse onto the ground.
"You... You shud gaw..." I slur, staring at the five blurry figures in front of me. I lean against the wall, as I feel my entire body going numb. Where was I going again?
Home. Right. What's that again? The place you live. Mhm. And where's that again? Home. Right. What's that aga- "Bailey! You drank my bottle of beer!" My brain suddenly wakes up and I glance around, looking for the source of the voice.
"Dish wash yoursh?" I start giggling uncontrollably. "Wonder not you drunk thish shit all da tim. Tish heaven!"
I feel a fist hit my face, knocking the air out of me. I watch as he continues to kick at me and punch me, each blow making me feel like I'm closer to death. Why can't I run away? Why do my legs feel like lead?
I collapse on the ground, watching blood gush out of my body. Forget finding the limit of blood I can lose before blacking out. I might find out how much blood loss I can handle before I die.
I watch in horror as he kicks me one more time. "When you're done bleeding, I want another bottle of beer." Slowly the light around me begins to fade out until there's nothing but black.
I found out my limit. Too bad I might not wake up at all after this.
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a/n: AND THAT'S THE PROLOGUE!! I didn't want her to be raped, but this is bad too ... I got the inspo from The Outsiders, with Johnny and all. hehe.
Anyway, it's 1810 words, so defo longer than 1000 words. YEET! I call this progress!!! Anyhoooooooooo, love you for reading this :) Thank you for sticking by with me.
don't worry, y'all Bailey's not suddenly an addict.