I glared out my window again as the pain came back again. Depression. Something I never I believed I was going through in the past. I was always a top student, until I was given the idea of drugs. I did drugs, joined a gang, and started failing in school. Don't believe me? well, that's your problem. My problem was trust. After what my own mother did to me, I couldn't trust again. I cover up my pain with a smile and loud remarks. I was always compared to my siblings. Vik was the smart and athletic one, and Anila was the pretty and talented one. What was I? I was the emo one. I was a good kid, but once I started junior high, things changed. I look on those days with disgust, with hatred and with anguish. Never would I go back what what I did before. I cut myself, and one day, i even tried to kill myself. No one knew about those things. All they knew was that I was an addict, and that I shouldn't be treated fairly. My mother was a b***h. When I was only 5, she pushed me into a wall. When I was 6, she cut me with a knife. When Anila was born, she died. I turned up the volume of my iPod as I blasted it to block out the pain.

I heard what sounded like banging at my door, so I opened it and started saying "Whattaya wa-" and then I stopped speaking. A tracker I had a good mind to slam the door on him, but I chose not to. Then, I was marked. Weridest thing I had ever felt. Other than the time I tried crack.
Next thing I knew, I was on my way to the house of night.