Broken part 1 and 2 and 3 and 4 and 5 and 6 and 7 and 8


3rd of April

Dear diary, dear shriary... Let's get something straight, I don't go dear, or love, or sincerely. That's for whimps. I jump right on to what I want to say. Today I won't go and write about my day. No, instead I'll write why I'm writing in a stupid journal... I have no one to talk to, except my therapist. But there's a difference between opening up to a therapist and a journal... A therapist tells you you should stop the cutting. A journal doesn't. It's kinda like talking to the wall or to a stuffed animal, except that it's being perminent with a pen. Not that I'll turn this into published work, but incase I take down the pills some day. So they know what to play in my funeral.
Don't I have any friends? Oh, I only have back stabbers. Who tadletailed me to our school counselor about the cutting. Well, I can't blame them, after all it was my stupidness to show them my scars, but they should have known I trust

them. Not anymore... These days, at school I sit in the back row and talk to no one and do sketchings of the teacher as a monster; which she is, by always staring in my eyes trying to make it obvious she knows I put black eyeliner on... Which is prohibited in my school. Other restrictions are; wearing anything except uniforms, loose hair, boots, anything dark (which caused me detention because I'm emo) and sharp objects. Oh yeah, and making out. No guy likes me anyways, I think I scare them off. I am liberal of any guy. My dream would be to be an amazon. Kill men. They don't deserve women. And they never will. I can't believe I've been in love with that jerk for so long, but I don't want to talk about him... Maybe later...


5th of April

Roses are black, violets are white. You see my life is black and white. The only thing clinging me to life is my violin, I can play her for hours and hours. With her I don't think of my damn problems. I whisper to her, and in return she sings to me. Do si si do si si do si si sol re do do si la la sol fa... Sometimes I get in a trans, so I don't even see whats going around me, and that caused my cats death today. No, she's alive, but I doubt it that she'll make it till tomorrow. I opened up the window so the breeze can cool me off as I play my violin. And I started on playing. I don't know for how long, but in the end when I was done and was to close the window, it was sunset. Then, I saw something red, when I looked out of my window. First I thought it was the reflection of sun on water, but since when is the sun so red? No, it wasn't water, it was blood. And in the middle of the puddle of blood was a black figure; my dear Lucifer. I ran downstairs and held her in my arms. By the time we were at the closest vet I was soaking in her blood myself. I never cry, not in this occasion or any other. But something deep inside me was holding the tears away. I tried to let it go and failed. So all I did was to pull my hair in front of my eyes and wait. For how long I don't know, but it was midnight when the veterinarian came and told me she had to stay over night and that there is no point in waiting. But I didn't want to go home. After all, I didn't have my keys with me and I would have to wake up the household. I would have to explain, because they expect me to be late usually, but never this late. Of course I didn't tell this to the vet. Instead I got up, and out. It was raining, but I didn't mind. I just stood there for half an hour, just a few steps in front of the vet. I thought on things. I thought what would happen if the last being, Lucifer, who loves me died. I thought of how I would explain this to my parents. And worst of all, I thought of if I would ever have the guts to play may violin ever again.


7th of April

The funeral of Lucifer took place in our backyard. I requested that no one else would be attending my poor darlings funeral except me, so I could tell him goodbye while we were alone. As I dived in his fur with my fingers and asked him 'or was this suicide?' but I shook my head knowing that a cat would never do that. Only human do. But Lucifer was always beyond a cat. Back in the times I was able to cry he used to lick my tears as if telling me it's all gonna be alright. But it never was alright in the end. As I placed a kiss on his nose for one last time I shifted his weight on my left arm, and I felt an excruciating sting. After I dug Lucifer into the black earth, I opened up my arm. Cuts, deeper than I've ever done. The weird part was, I don't remember cutting these in. They already looked infected, so I ran to the bathroom to treat it. When I entered the bathroom, I found blood on the bathroom carpet, and it struck me. I remembered it. Yesterday, when I got the news of his death, I ran and ran and ran. I ran through our front yard, into our doorway, to the kitchen where I grabbed a knife and to the bathroom where I slid the knife across my arm. No, it wasn't satisfying enough, so I dug deeper, and deeper till I blacked out. Yes, that's why I had a hard time remembering. Then my mom took me into my room, and it was today when I woke up.
I wiped the dried blood on my arm. Today was special, I sunk on the bathroom floor and cried. I cried, not so much since I'm still not used to it, but I cried till I was relived. Now I'm fine. So that's why the therapist keeps tissues in his office...


9th of April

As every Thursday, today I went to my therapist again. I sat on the orange couch. I hate orange. He, with his sky blue clipboard in his hand and legs crossed started off 'Your mom called.'. I kept my silence. 'She told me your cat died' yes I wanted to tell him, and it's my fault, but I sat there looking right into his eyes. 'Becca, we talked about this before. Keeping quite doesn't help you' nothing helps me. I'm hopeless. But I talked anyways. 'he died while I was playing my violin. I'm never playing her again.' he nodded but didn't say anything on top of that so I kept on 'The problem is no one blames me. They didn't even ask how it happened. But I want them to blame me. Because I am to blame.'. He jotted that down, and asked me 'And if they blamed you , what next? It wouldn't bring your cat back, would it?' no ,it wouldn't. But instead on replying I went on 'I cut myself again' I showed him my scars. Although in the begging I kept them for myself, soon I saw nothing wrong in showing them to him. Only him. He examined them. 'These are deep.' yes, I know, and they hurt really bad. Though I wasn't ready on telling him about the crying yet. So I changed the subject 'I haven't been getting my period lately. Well, actually it's been 2 months since.' he wrote that down. He asked me 'Have you been taking your medication?' no, I'm not. Antidepressants are for people who don't want to feel. But I want to feel... My moms been making sure I'm taking them, but I fake it. They go down the loo. I told him I take them, because if I told him the truth he would inform my mom. He looked into my eyes, but said nothing. He knows the truth. But time was up. My mom held my hand as we walked in the car. She started to drive and not even looking at me said 'I enrolled you for bale.' first I didn't understand 'what?', this time looking at me 'You need to put your mind of things, well, other than your violin. I talked to your therapist on the phone. He told me you should do some sports.' I wonder what else the therapist tells her, but I trust him. 'Since when is bale a sport?' over my dead body, I'm not light on my feet. I wear boots and sweaters. I keep my feet strong on the floor. I DON'T DANCE. Period.


11th of April

Today my mom literally pulled me by my hair to take me to 'bale'. I stood in the middle of the class filled with girls in white tights and pink tanks that are my age. All of them had their hair in buns. They looked pathetic. I don't belong here. They didn't look at me in a welcoming way, after all I was nothing like them. I whispered to my mom 'I don't have suitable clothes anyways, let's go home.', to my surprise she took out black tights and a black tank out of her bag. I put them on in the dressing room. My mom was gone, on purpose, so there is no way I can go back home. And I'm not gonna walk ten miles home. I sat in the circle with the other girls. I was an outsider, a wierdo. The only girl in black and hair so short that can't put it up. Our teacher, as I learned later Mrs. Doris, made us do a few warmup moves. All the other girls started chatting while doing the moves as a piece of cake. I couldn't even touch the tip of my toe. I was being ignored. I backed up, so I was out of the circle. Although it was only an hour and thirty minutes, for me we had been doing strange moves I couldn't manage for hours and hours. Why mom, why? She knows I hate these kind of things, where I don't belong. And she was wrong, it didn't get my mind off things. Instead, it made me sick, I wondered why I wasn't as thin as the other girls. So my new best friend except my razor became my toothbrush which now I use to make me throw up.


13 of April

My mom insists for me to stay home as last week. She thinks I'm sick, since I haven't been eating, almost at all. But no, what my problem is my jean size. I feel like a pig. No wonder I'm not attractive... So I stayed home, watching TV. Then I went out and bought flowers for Lucifer. No, I didn't forget about him. I never will. I went over to where he lay. Now how peaceful he is. I wish I could be like him. Actually, I can, but things are not that bad yet. Death isn't my answer, or is it? But what is there after death? Heaven? No, hell for me. Plus, suicide is a sin, so that will get me a ticket to hell even if I don't belong there. Maybe there's nothing after death. Just like before I was born. I wish my mother didn't bring me to earth in the beginning. It would make matters easier, to everyone, to me, to Lucifer, to my family and to my poor therapist who has to listen to my boring stories for fifty minutes every Thursday afternoon. I wanted to tell my mother I would prefer not seeing him, but the truth is I need and want to see him. I can't keep myself from wondering, how's his life at home. Has he got children and a wife? Does he have pets of his own? How much money does he make every month? And after seeing all these depressed people at work, is he happy himself? I would NEVER be a therapist when I grow up. Maybe a virtuoso, but no, not after what happened to Lucifer. I've been playing the violin since I was in second grade. That makes 6 years. I know I don't play amazingly good, but it's a passion for me...was a passion for me. I sometimes found myself making up tunes, without even noticing. I play waltz, operas, classics and gams. Finger trainings, string trainings. I was never looking for perfection, but the more practice, the better. Everyday I played at least for two hours. Now I need to fill in two full hours with something. Anything.


15th of April

My mom figured out I'm not sick. Uh oh. But this doesn't mean I'm going back to school. Instead I'm having an early session with my therapist. He looks tired. After all he had a whole other day to call 'BeccaFree', but I messed that up for him. In an exasperated voice he asked me 'Becca, tell me, why did your mom force us to cancel another patients meeting? What did you do?'. I wasn't planing on pushing his limits, so I told him without any need of struggling 'I'm not eating. And what I eat, I throw up.' he raised his eyebrows as if saying "oh no, not this!", but instead he asked me in a very caring way 'Is it that you feel sick or is there something else to it?' there's a pause, but he is patient. 'No, it was the girls. The girls from bale.'. He jotted that down. Then he asked me, I can feel the guilt in his voice since it was his idea on I should do a sport 'What's that they have and you don't?' no, it should have been the other way around. The question should have been "Whats that you have and you don't?", then I would answer "body fat". So I told him 'They all are so thin and pretty. Athletic. And they can do all the moves ten times easier and better than me.'. He seemed frustrated, even angry 'Becca, look at me, everyone is different. If they are good at dance moves, you are good with the violin. Being thin doesn't help you in life unless you will be a bitch that fucks men for the money.' I never heard him reply in such a way, but I felt grateful. Although I knew he was right, I protested 'I don't play the violin anymore. I told you.'. So he said one word that changed it all 'Why?'. When I went back home, I touched the case of my violin. Then the zipper of the case. I opened it up. And touched the wood. How beautiful my violin is. After a basic one, when I was in 6th grade I got an expensive handmade one for my birthday. I remember how much in love I was, and still am with it. Though I also remember how sad I was to leave my student use violin. It was not so great or special. Wrong, it was both great and special to me. But this one... It's amazing. I unattached the stripes holding it in the case, and placed it between my chin and shoulder. I felt dizzy. I put it softly back in it's place, took out the bow. I tightened the loose horse hair strings. I spread the resin so there is a thick layer of dust on it. I picked the violin again, and started to play it. I felt alive. But then, I felt as if betraying Lucifer. I dropped her. And it smashed. And I knew it never would be repaired again. Just like my broken heart.


17th of April

After I broke my violin, I left her on the floor and went to bed. And I'm still in bed. I've been too sick to get out. My forehead is burning with fever. My mom seems to be happy about this since she can feed me soup and I can't resist. Yesterday, when she came to wake me up for school, she saw my violin. She shook me shouting 'What's the matter with you?' but stopped once she felt how hot I was. She ran to bring me a temperature. That's when I had a good look at her, broken on the floor. For the first time instead of joy, I saw sorrow in her. And I closed my eyes, as if afraid that looking at her might turn me into stone. I felt my mothers cool hands on my warm body. A minute later I heard a gasp. 'See? When you don't eat this is what you get.' I had no energy to fight back. After that I spent my day sleeping and seeing nightmares. I saw myself playing her, but instead of her voice, every time I slid the bow across her, a sound like painful meows came. The more I heard of it, the harder I played, and the harder I played, the meow cut threw my skin, on my arm, until all of the blood was out of me, and I was a pile of skin on the floor, as if I was only filled with blood inside.
Today I was able to watch TV, but I only looked at the screen blankly. My mom sat next to me, singing a lullaby she did when I was small, but that just made me want to slap her since I had sorted out how to play it on my violin. La fa la si do mi re mi fa sol la sol fa mi la fa mi re do si la... She saw how sad I was. She told me 'We'll buy you a new one. Your birthday is only a week away.' but no, I can't touch another violin except her. We shared three years, that makes 1095 days. That makes one fifth of my life.


19th of April

Something good about being sick is that I don't have to go to bale. Today I feel much better. So today I was able to eat dinner on the table. My dad whom goes to work before I wake up, and comes back late at night was able to eat dinner with us since on Sundays he comes back from work early. Even on Sundays he works till 6pm. Then he goes back to work on his laptop. This has been going on since I was 8. He barely talks to me, and that's okay with me, since I never like to talk too much anyways. I don't even remember how long it's been since we've talked. Two weeks? A month? Today at dinner he asked me 'How's it going?'. He doesn't know a thing. That I've almost been anorexic, that I broke my violin and that i've been in bed for the past four days. But even more than that he doesn't know how hard it is to answer his question. How's it going? It's been hell. Its not going okay. Instead I stared into my soup and said 'so and so'. Then he went on talking about politics, the new highway that was being built, basically about crap. Soon I felt so angry, I dropped my spoon and left the table. I went up to my room, I grabbed my gray backpack. I grabbed 5 underwear, 5 shirts, 3 pants and a bunch of socks. Nothing else that will burden me. I also reached out for my violin case, then remembered what had happened to it. I put on my sneakers. Ran downstairs, pulled the door behind my back, into the night. I didn't know where I was going but I walked and walked and walked. Then someone came running behind me, I thought it was my dad coming after me, saying sorry, but it wasn't. It was Dean, who was my crush. I underline WAS. I was confused. He held out a bra, one of those I packet in my backpack. 'Hey Becca, you dropped this right in front of my house. You know, if you wanna kiss me you can just talk to me. I hope you didn't think I would fall for this.'. No, not him I thought. I pulled the bra out of his hand and continued on my walk. I bet he didn't expect this. 'Hey Becca, I'm sorry, come on, why are you so sad?' he ran again going in front of me and talking to me while walking in reverse. He talked about school on Friday and how I missed to see Lucia calling our teacher mom. When he realized I couldn't have cared less he stopped, which made me stop, and pulled me close to him...and kissed me. First I let him, but then pushed him away. Why now? Why not when I really needed him? Why not before I started to cut myself? Now it's too late. And I started to run, and ran for how far away I don't know. I got to a bus stop. I lied down there. Soon, I heard a honk. It was my dad getting out of the car. I got up. I expected for him to hug me and say sorry. But do you know what he did? He slapped me. I dot care if it hurt on my face for three hours, because the thing is my heart will hurt...forever.


21t of April

I am the cause of it. I am the cause of my mom and dad having a fight which got concluded with my dad being...away. We don't know where he went. Last Sunday, after my dad slapped me my mom came into my room and saw my cheek all red. She cupped her hands over her mouth. I saw a tear sliding across her cheek. She ran downstairs. I heard shouting. I couldn't make out the sentences, but I heard words and phrases like 'almost anorexic' , 'cutting' , 'broke her violin' , 'god knows how her cat died'. Once again I sunk in my pillow and fell asleep crying. The next morning, which was yesterday, I woke up my mom stroking my hair and telling me it all was going to be alright. I closed my eyes trying to remember what happened the day before. Oh yeah, Dean kissed me, then my dad slapped me. I asked my mom 'Dad?' she kissed me on my forehead 'He told me to say sorry to you for him.' but the truth was, he didn't. He had picked his clothes, just like I have done, and left. I told faintly 'No, really mom, I know he didn't say that.' that's when she started to cry, again, and now it was me stroking her hair. Now it was me telling her it all was going to be alright. I don't mind lying. When she stopped crying she asked me if I wanted to go to the movies, so I said yes. Not that it would make me feel any better, but her.
Today she told me to hop on to the car. To the therapist, I thought. But I was mistaken. Do you know where? To the shelter. And I just stood in the doorway, unable to move. They tried to get me to move, so in the end we had to go back home. And do some cutting.


23rd of April

'Don't worry, a dad never stops loving his daughter.' that's what the therapist told me. He told me this after I told him my dad hates me. But he is right, a dad never stops loving his daughter. What about the other way around? I found out it's very possible. How can anyone expect me to love a man who slapped me, made my mom cry and is lost? For me him being lost doesn't make a difference, I didn't see him before, and I don't see him now. End of the story. But never once has he missed my birthday. And today, 23rd of April is my birthday and he is no where to be seen. I can use that as a weapon against my therapist. 'So why does he let me suffer on my birthday? Is this my present? Leaving me with a mom that has fountains instead of eyes?' my therapist looks sad for me. 'You know what Becca? I have a present for you.' he takes out a box. Is he supposed to give his patients presents? I am not sure, but we know each other for a long time. I rip off the gift wrapper to find a violin silencer. Its this small metal thing you put on the bridge of the violin so it covers up some of the noise. 'Remember once you told me you wished you could play your violin when you weren't able to sleep late at night but scared it would wake up your parents and neighbors? I searched all over the Internet for this.' this made me cry. I cried and cried and cried until I realized time was up. I was about to get up to leave when he stopped me. 'No, today it's your birthday, and I don't want you to go home having thoughts in mind that make you cry. Becca, what else happened?' that's when I told him of her, of the violin broken, still on the floor, waiting to be thrown away.

                      
25th of April

It's been a while since my last time in school. My therapist told me I should go since it will take things off my head. As I entered the class yesterday, which was a Friday, I avoided Dean. The teacher looked sorry for me. She didn't look into my eyes while giving me an envelope. I was going to open it once I was seated, but I looked around the class, and the only seat empty was next to Dean. I'm sure he arranged this on purpose incase I was to come. What a monster. Haven't I wished for this? No, not anymore. I pulled my seat so I'm somewhat far from him. I opened up the envelope. I wish I haven't. It was from the school administration telling me I've been away for too long so I have to take 9th grade over again next year. This wasn't happening to me. I closed my eyes, unable to believe my luck. Dean looked over my shoulder as I crumbled up the paper. He swung his arm to my back and whispered into my ear 'Chill, I'm here for you.'. He placed a kiss on my neck, near my ear. Wasn't this abuse? But I didn't move. I meant to, but my muscles were betraying me. So he kissed again, this time a bit lower. Wasn't the teacher seeing this? Obviously no, because the next thing I feel is his hand turning my head so he can place another kiss, this time on my lips. A few heads turned our way. But he kept on, pulling me lower into the desk so we are literally hiding behind it. His hand went in my shirt. And that moment I knew I would rather be dead. But I wasn't, and I was being abused in a class with 15 people in it, and no one was stopping it.
What happened next? After the lesson, I let him hold me by my waist. I let him take control over me. And there is no way back.


27th of April

After I gave my mom the wrinkled paper, she went to her room. I heard her making some phone calls. Then a scream 'You asshole! Come back home, your daughter needs you!'. But the rest is cries. I know he's not coming back. I know he won't be here to help me. But why? Why has he abandoned us over nothing? He has been never away for so long. It always seemed impossible that he has to work so much. No one, not even the president works so much. I don't even know what his job is, all I know is he has been cheating on my mom, and my mom knew about this. Only keeping it away so I don't get hurt, but its harder to learn it this way. Now he had an excuse to leave.
I didn't tell my mom about Dean. So I went to school again. He gave a mischievous smile and slid his hand under my skirt. But this time we were caught. Our teacher shouted across the classroom 'Becca, what's that that Mr. Manson is so interested under your skirt? Maybe you would like to share it with the whole class...' a few people laughed, but except that, everyone was serious. Silence spread the room. Then she shouted 'Out! You know the rules of our school! Hope that Mr. Davel doesn't decide on expelling you two.' Mr. Davel has a history of expelling a handful of kids. Our class once used to have 18 students. In the end I spoke up for myself whereas Dean was expelled. I will never forget does eyes, saying they hate me. But who hates who more? Me hating him for sexually abusing me or him hating me for getting him expelled? I guess we both hate each other equally, although somewhere inside me there is this funny feeling. What's it called? Pity?


29th of April

When my mom came into my room to wake me up, she asked me 'Its almost been a week since your birthday, and I still didn't give you a present. Are you ready to tell me what you want?' what I want is Lucifer, my violin, my dad, and although he abused me, Dean back. I've realized I wanted him to abuse me. It made me feel important. Important enough to be abused. I had to answer my moms question, so I replied with the first thing that came up to my mind 'Nothing.', so my mom got out of my room saying it would be a surprise. She is overly depressed, is she seeing a therapist herself? I know she's taking antidepressants since our bathroom is filled with those tiny aluminum pieces that come off once you take a pill out from its box. But more importantly, how were we gonna feed ourselves? My dad was our only source of money. Either my mom had to find a job, or we were going to starve. So I ran behind her, this time knowing what I want 'Mom, this may be a bit of a big present, but I want you to get a job. After all, we can't live like this.' she seemed shocked, but then it struck me that shes never even thought about money, it was news to her. Never in her life has she worked, so this meant one thing; to be able to feed us we both have to work. I wonder if I'll be able to find a job at this age. I can begin with babysitting, but who would leave their child to me? My reputation isn't good around the neighborhood. That's why today I had to find my old violin in the basement, so I could play it on the streets.


31t of April

Thanks to the health insurance, that my dad still pays for, I can still see my therapist. He told me we would play the 'yes no' game. Of course its not a game. What it is is he asks me a bunch of questions that I'm only allowed with either yes or no. In the beginning I had a hard time giving a certain answer in, but I am used to it by now. This is how it went;
Do you like going to school?
No.
Is there a specific reason why?
Yes.
Is there a specific person that is the cause?
Yes.
Is this person a girl?
No.
Is this person your age?
Yes.
Has he done something to you?
Yes.
Did this thing include abuse?
Yes.
Did he get what he wanted?
Yes.
Has he get away with it?
No.
Do you feel any sort of regret?
Yes.
Will you face him again tomorrow?
No.
After the game, he asked about details, but I told him I didn't feel comfortable taking about it. For the first time I felt angry at him, for not insisting for me to give details, for not asking me about my mom, my dad and my situations back at home. I wanted to tell him he was wrong about my dad. That he didn't love me anymore. I wanted to tell him I had to take 9th grade over again, but he didn't ask me anything about it. He didn't ask me to update him, instead he told me I could leave early today. This was odd, and there was something else to this, but I figured it out much later. My mom had come to see him, but they weren't gonna talk about me, but my mom had come to see him, for herself.

 
2nd of May

In two days the final exams come up, but my teacher told me I don't have to take them since I'll be retaking my grade anyways. From my observations I can't say I'm too left behind, no, I'll be as good as the others if I spend a few nights dug in textbooks, but instead I am planning on taking advantage on the situation and try to solve my personal problems. Now that I am back on playing the violin, on size three quarters, I am occupied on those two hours I had as spear time. I'm having a difficult time on trying to go back on my old violin, since my broken one was four quarters of size. So I can't go directly to the streets, I have to do practicing. How ironic, a girl who goes to a private school has to go out pleading for money with her old small violin. Isn't there more I can do? Yes, except playing on the streets, I can give out lessons. So I made up flyers with my phone number on for private lessons. I know it has been only a day, but I'm disappointed since I don't have any calls yet. After all, I put them all around, in the post office, on trees, on lampposts, I'll even ask my therapist if I could put one up in his waiting room. I doubt he'll say no. After all, his place isn't so fancy, with chafe couches, 5 year old magazines, wooden floor that needs desperate replacing, and gray walls who were once white. The place is depressing itself. If my therapist wasn't such an advanced doctor, going to the place would make my depression even worst. I seldom see any other patients, but I know who's before me and after me. The person before me is a 17 year old jewish girl. I think she is already married, because it's obvious shes wearing a wig. The person after me is a draft punker boy, who is a year or two older than me. I had a crush on him the first times I started on coming till I learned he uses drugs. I'm not sure if my moms taking his place, but I haven't been seeing him for a while. Either he's hospitalized or he's finally in jail. But he looks like a nice guy, and even if he uses drugs, if I ever see him again, I'll attempt on talking to him.


4th of May

Today was an exam day, so I didn't go to school. Everyone but me and Dean is at school right now, working on algebra. I used this day to go looking around if my flyers are still hung up. After finding two missing, I started on running to the spots I put them. That's when I caught him, trying to mess my messed up life. Dean was tearing down my flyers, and he had at least 10 already in his hands, all crushed up in a fist. I yanked the bunch out of hands and shouted at him 'What the hell are you doing?'. He had an insane expression on his face 'What does it look like I am bitch?'. I knew he was angry with me, but I never guessed he was this angry. He held me by my wrists and pressed me by the wall 'Do you know what you've done to me?' he said literally spitting in my face 'You ruined it all. No other school accepts me, after you told that asshole I raped you. Becca, I didn't rape you, you didn't say anything to stop me. I thought we were in this together.' then he broke down and started on crying.  To tell the truth, it's really sad to watch a guy cry, it's as if they aren't meant to. He whispered 'My dad had to bribe the man so I wouldn't be reported to the police. Have you got any idea on how humiliating that was.' I got closer to him, and this time I kissed him. First he was confused, so backed up, but then realized what was going on and kissed me back. He whispered again 'I'm confused...' and I told him 'We are in this together.'. For the first time, I felt as if I'm not alone, no, I had Dean who was also in pain. We both had to make it up for each other, and after all the kissing, we decided we should be friends. Friends on this hard thing called living. Facing life. So he held me by my hand as we put the flyers back up. Although I suggested that we go back to school and tell the principle that Dean didn't rape me, which I still think the concept is raping, he told me he was grateful he wasn't arrested and going back into that building would just be pushing his limits. And now, just as I'm writing these words, a call came from a mother of a third grader asking about the private lessons.


6th of May

Today I gave a private lesson to the third grader that called me on Monday. Her name was Lynda. It was her first time with a violin, and her parents wanted to know if she was gonna like playing it before getting a pro teacher. We stood in the middle of her room, me with a violin too small for me, and her with a violin too big for her. Her mom was in the kitchen, making us some lemonade. I went over to her and explained the situation. I asked if we could switch our violins during the lessons. Such a nice lady, she told me we should switch the violins for good, and keep it like that. I told her how old and over used my violin was, but she said she didn't mind. A part of me didn't want to do the switching, since the violin in my hands had valuable history to me, but the other part of just thought I needed a full sized violin, for money, for food. Plus, it was newer, and gave out a better sound. So on the first day I thought her the four strings sol, re, la, mi; how to place the violin on her shoulder and how to hold the bow. She needs a few more lessons till she gets the hold of these things. But i believe she will be good at it. She reminds me of myself. The me who wanted to play like the virtuosos on the TV from the first day, the me who gave out a huge smile every time when I got something correct. The me that exists no longer. Her mom seemed very satisfied with my tutoring and we scheduled her next lesson on next Tuesday.


8th of May

Yesterday I asked my therapist if we could do something different, like talk about unimportant things. He thought on it and agreed with me. He said we should do popups. Popups is when I say the first thing that comes in my mind, and we just talk about it. So I started off with asking about the punk kid who used to come after me. To my disappointment he said its against his protocols to talk about other patients. So I hopped on from a different angle 'What would happen if I started using drugs?' usually if a teenager asks such a question this only means one thing, that he/she already uses drugs. But he knew what I meant, the thing is this time he has to answer since I didn't specifically ask for information on a client. He said watching the words he uses 'Well, if such a thing was ever to happen, first I would expect you to tell me, you would, right?' I shook my head up and down 'Then we would discuss why you ever would need to use them, because as you can guess drugs is a need just like your cutting.' I knew this already, and this wasn't  what I wasn't looking for 'What about my mom had found out, or a teacher?' he waited, again examining his answer 'Well, that's your ticket to the hospital, then to jail. After all, you can't lie...' that's it! 'Is that what happened to him?', I guess at last I got on his nerves 'Becca, it's none of your business, and even if I tell you, you know sharing another patiens personal information might cost me my carrier...' so, yes, he was either in the hospital or arrested. Though tops he is 16, does he go to the adult jail as any other man? I felt sorry for him. Cutting doesn't get you to jail... Time was up anyways, so I told him 'If he still comes here tell him I said hi.'


10th of May

Yesterday, after I came from another private lesson, this time for a boy a year or two younger for me, I came home to find all these official papers. Now that I have to take care of bills, and other stuff, I picked them up to look at what they are, all these pages and pages of paper... I was expecting this, documents for divorcement. It was about time, my mom after all knew the truth for some time and was suffering just to keep me away from suffering. Better that they get divorced, but I hope my dad still supports us financial wise, the laws must provide that. My mom appeared in the doorway, and have me a hug. 'I was going to tell you honey.' but that was the least of my problems. I asked her crossly 'What about the job you were gonna get?' although there is no point in getting angry with her, if I don't use an angry tone of voice, she will never get her butt to find a job. As I wrote down before she's not used to working. She just stood there her mouth half open, looking blankly into my face. So I held her by her wrist, and dragged her along with me to the post office. Our post office has a bulletin board which I hung my flyer up. It usually has basic job offerings up. There we were, looking at ten different jobs, looking for one that is ordeal for a woman that has no previous experience of any kind. In the end I forced her to call this dentist so she can get to be a secretary. She is going to go to be interviewed on Monday, which is tomorrow. I'm sure she'll be fine, after all she has always been my secretary in life...


12th of May

Yesterday, I let Dean walk me to school. Don't get me wrong, I know we kissed a few days ago, but are not girlfriend-boyfriend. He just wanted to have a talk, and once we've reached school say hi to a few fellows. I can't keep myself from feeling guilty. After all, I cant blame him for liking me...okay, beyond that he used me and I wasn't expecting this to happen so soon, after all I'm just 15, but what's done is done. On the way first he asked me about school. How some of his friends were doing, if so and so broke up yet... But then he went on talking about the day my dad had slapped me, and our, in the same time my, first kiss. 'Honestly, what was going on that day?' thank you Dean, not even my therapist had asked me about it, and I really need to talk. 'Family problems.' as I do with my therapist, first I didn't give him a full answer, its the way to get the listener curious. 'Family problems? Who cheated on who?' he was joking, he didn't expect me to give an answer 'My dad on my mom. It had been going on for a while...'. His expression went serious 'How did you guys find out?' so I went on telling him what had been going on since I was 8. I told him about the slap, about the papers. Then I went back to what happened before. I told him about Lucifer, about my violin. And he just listened, nodding and kicking pebbles as he walked. We walked slowly, and I talked until I had nearly nothing else to say. We stopped at a point, and I talked looking at the floor. When we finally got to the school gate, and he told me he was going back home and he wasn't gonna say hi to anybody. Just as he was about to leave, when I held him by his shoulders. I told him 'Thank you.' and he left.
Today, again I tutored Lynda. Finally she stubbornly stomped her foot and threw the violin on the floor 'I can't do this!'. Thats how the second violin that had at least some violin got smashed. I wanted to slap her, to strangle her, but after all I had done the same thing to my own handmade violin. Plus, now that violin was no longer mine.  So I packed my own violin, as calmly as possible, and stormed out.


14th of May

Another day with the therapist. Today he looked overwhelmed. I wonder if it was a previous patient or a problem with his personal life. Today it was me to start the talking, to see if it's work that got him tired I said 'No business much today, eh?' his eyes half opened and his head  being carried by his arm, he answered 'Oh, tell me about it!'. This session was going to be different. It was him to complain, and me to listen. 'So, or did you get attacked by a psycho?' it's funny talking about psychos since I'm a psycho myself. That's what my mom called me when I got her extremely angry, and when I told my therapist before, he told me to never, but ever to think of my self as a psycho again. He told me I was special, not psycho. He chuckled to my question. 'You've got no idea, one of my old patients decided on sewing me out of the blue...' wow, who could ever do such a thing to such a great man? When I asked why, he answered 'Money.' as if he's the last person they could find to get money from. But that wasn't my question, my question was 'What's their excuse?'. Now I see why he never talks about that punk kid to me, because they were accusing him for using the patients situation in a book he wrote. 'I didn't know you had a book!' he passed me a handbook, covered with red leather. 'Open up page 74, read it out loud.' so I did ' "Attempts of Suicide: as for 5percent of every suicide attempt is successful, there is really a way out. Suicide is a cause of severe depression. If the person is having complos of suicide, heavy medication and strong support from family and close ones are recommended..." what has this got to do with anything?' he sighs 'That patient had had a suicide attemp, actually three. If you read on I give examples, but I didn't give out any names, and I didn't go too specific. So basically its legal. Obviously this patient doesn't know this...' it's good to listen to problems of other people, it makes you forget your own.


16th of May

Since today is a Saturday, my plan was to sleep, then go to the subway for the first time to play the violin. Guess what, things didn't go the way they were planned...well, exactly... It was 8am when I heard a tock. I ignored it (believe me, I'm good at ignoring things) but then came another tock, and another. I realized it was coming from my window, someone was throwing rocks, trying to wake me up. That someone was Dean.  I got downstairs with my robe on, since I sleep in my underwear. 'Come in, I'll prepare some coffee.'  I made a quick coffee since I wanted to hear what he has to say. 'So, why in the world would you weak up a psycho that loves knives early on a saturday?' he was the only person except my therapist who I could be sarcastic with. 'Questions, questions...' was he drunk? 'You didn't finish the story!' what does he mean I didn't finish the story? So he spit it out 'Your dad, you told me this early in the morning to late in the night thing has been going on since you were 8. What about before you were 8?' he had been obviously giving a lot of thought on this, but honestly, I don't remember. Really, what about before? I don't know. I needed to think, so I told him I was gonna get dressed and I would answer on our way to the subway. It took a long time for me to get dressed, on purpose, so I had time to think. But even when I had my vintage boots on, my violin ready in hand I didn't have an answer. We started to walk, and I tried to change the subject, but he was stubborn. So I went on saying 'Look, I don't remember. I guess he gave me piggy back rides and kissed me goodnight, but I'm not sure.'. He said in an exasperated voice 'Oh come on, you can't remember seven years ago?' no Dean, I remember, but I'm not gonna tell you that.


18th of May

Today I decided to call my dad. No, not to tell him I miss him, but to make...things straight. I tried his phone number, the one I had. Of course it was out of order. I wasn't expecting this though. So I went up to my mom 'I've gotta call my dad.' my mom looked at me unbelievingly. 'Today we are going to the court to make the divorcement official.' so was she telling me to come along with her? 'So you're telling me to come with you?' of course she wasn't. 'No honey, I'm just saying if you want to talk about money business and things like that, today the judge will do that for us.' she didn't want me to talk to him, but after all I was his daughter and had every right to talk to him 'Mom, I said I wanted to talk to him.' she snapped back at me 'No, and thats that.'. What?! I'm not allowed to? So she went, and I stayed. I was supposed to go to school, but I had business to do. I went over the papers on the table. Some things from the lawyer, this and that I had no idea what it was. Then I dug in the drawers of the kitchen. Some drawings I did when I was in preschool. Some old bills, then...bingo! A paper with a bunch of arrows and numbers. Then beneath all, a number marked with yellow highlighter.  I stuck it in my pocket, then grabbed my bag to go to school. Then I thought, why should I go to school whole I need money and there is no point at going? So I took my violin, and earned 20 bucks across the shopping mall.
My mom had come home, no emotion, nor anger, sadness or joy in her face. I can't even remember the last time I saw joy in her. She started cooking the rice, and broccoli I bought with part of the money. I went to my room, and got our phone. This is how it went:
'Hello?'
'Dad'
...silence on the other end
'I'm just gonna ask some questions...'
'Ok, but make it quick.'
'Ummm, we don't have money...so I work. So odes my mom. I think she told you that...'
'Yes she did.'
'I was just thinking...'
'Look Rebecca, I have a family. Your mother is a grown woman. I still pay for your school expenses, your health insurance and I gave a good amount of money to your mother in the court today. So don't bother me anymore, and I won't bother you either, so goodnight.'
I felt a tear on my cheek. And I whispered 'Goodnight.'


20th of May

We have been assigned for a project in groups, and I am in the group with two of the girls who has betrayed me, and a boy who was and I guess still is Dean's friend. The homework is due on Friday. I no longer talk to them, so they arranged the plans, without even asking me. So we were going to meet over Tiffany's after school. Two girls walked in front, me and Deans friend Lucas walked behind. I felt pretty awkward. 'So, are the rumors true?' what rumors? What was I expecting, even the most innocent kiss goes all around. 'No. We just did it. He didn't rape me or anything.' he shook his head 'Dean is a nice guy, I knew he wouldn't do such a thing.' oh Lucas, even my dad has done...a mistake. Anyone can do anything. My mind went onto the punk boy. 'Have you guys talked since?' no, the question should have been "Did he say anything about me?", to my surprise, he said no. Hasn't he practically ran away on the day he walked me to school? Why was he avoiding his friends? Was I his only friend now? I know he is to me. The silence went on. When we reached Tiffany's house, we formed up in front of her computer. I looked out of the window. When someone called my name three hours had already passed, just in a snap. 'We are almost done. Well, since you've done absolutely nothing, we, at least I, don't expect you to do anything else. You don't need to come tomorrow.' this is why I hate Tiffany except she told me over to the counselor. But I didn't fight, after all tomorrow I had my session with my therapist. This way I wouldn't have to give excuses. So I got up, and left.


22nd of May

'Called my dad.' he looked at me first, then noted that 'He told me to leave him alone, has another family.'. 'Were those the exact words he used?' my therapists has an issue with if things I say are the exact words, like once when I said my friend had said I was desperate he asked me if those were the exact words she used, and actually no, they weren't. She actually told me I needed help, well, after that she told me over to the counselor anyways. I nodded, but couldn't hold myself from asking 'Why are you so curious with exact words?' he looked at me, shook his head side to side 'Well, because you might take it as another way. You know, incase there is a misunderstanding. Honey, that's my job, making uncertain things certain.'. That makes sense, and I guess that's one of my problems, taking things totally different. But then people should just say the things directly, why make things harder to understand? 'Becca?' I had been driven away with my ideas...I guess. 'Becca, does this happen a lot?' does what happen a lot? 'Do you fall into thoughts and...' I conclude his sentence '...and don't realize how the time passes? Yes.' I told him about what happened the day before. Three hours just went by in seconds. 'Look at me, our time is up, and I haven't been interrupting, but you've been thinking for fifteen minutes. Becca, be honest with me, do you take your medication?' I don't answer. 'Thought so, okay, you can leave.' he's trying to help me, and I turn it away. But what's there to do? As I said before, I would much rather feel pain than feel nothing. And right now I feel pain since I make this poor man, really trying to help me, struggle.


24th of May

I'm grounded. Very seldom do I get grounded, since my behavior is assumed caused by my issues, but this is different. My dad and mom still have to talk on the phone, to manage some things that I'm not allowed to interfere in. In one of those phone calls my dad mentioned about our small talk. My mom went furious. I don't know why she is so against me to talk to him, but I guess it's because when I do, he hurts me. She doesn't want me to know about his other life, which I wish I never knew about. When he said a family, I wonder if it includes children... Maybe a daughter, but a normal one. One that goes to school, gets good grades, has a living animal, normal friends that  take her out to innocent dinners and pajama parties, and a perfect boy friend. The absolute opposite of me. I wonder if we were his first or if they are his first family... Either way, they are the number one. I also wonder if his daughter (if he really has one) and wife knows about us. All I know is they are happier. They don't have to go out on the street and hope more people than yesterday would pass in front of me to listen. Anyways, she shouted no school, no work and just the therapist on Thursday. So I stayed in bed, and spend half of my day there. Between sleeping and awake. I saw dreams, no, nightmares that I tried to shake off. In one of them was Dean, in jail, next to the punk kid. When I woke up screaming 'NO! Get him out!' I didn't know for who I said that. I don't know how, but in someway there is a sort of connection between me and that punk kid. Even if its the last thing I do,  I'll find that kid. Who knows, maybe he's my brother from my dads other family... What am I thinking, this is how you get after a whole day in bed...


26t of May
Dean called, asking me if I was going to school, and if not if he could come with me and accompany me as I play the violin. I told him I was grounded, and he just laughed. When I asked why, he said 'You're not used to getting grounded, are you?' I shook my head, but then remembered I'm on the phone and told him 'No, why?'. 'Get dressed, I'll be there in a few.' and he hung up the phone. So we were gonna sneak out? I could play the bad girl... My mom was out at work, I don't know how she trusted me. She has been working as an asocial professors dentists secretary for a while now. Although first she wasn't accepted for the job, I guess the guy got too desperate to call her two days later. And now as from my observations, he is pretty satisfied from her work. She gets easily adapted to almost anything. So, although I had no shower, by the time he had come, I looked black enough to go out, you know, emo. 'So, what mischief are we up to?' he took my hand 'We're going where every grounded kid goes...' this sounded like dirty business. But it wasn't. He took me by the sea shore. I wasn't expecting this. 'Dean, you know its too cold for this, and I ain't doing skinny dipping.' then he hugged me, and it was too late when I realized he had took off my golden necklace in the shape of a treble clef. It was a birthday present from my grandma on my 10th birthday, just days before she died. Dean put it around his neck, I was spending my time on trying to understand whats going on, while he took his clothes off till his underwear and ran into the ocean. I started running, tripping over my jeans since I partly took them off, then jumped in with him. The water was freezing, but it felt great, on my scars. Once we were tired enough and freezing to our bones, we lied on the sand, the sun stinging my eyes. I felt free, I felt alive. Then we picked up our clothes, and hand in hand he dragged me along with him. I got my head in the clouds, my feet bare on the rode. Across the seashore, is a pine tree forest. He stopped in front of a tree, and pointed up. Up there was a handmade tree house. 'It's been a while since my last time here. We made this a while ago, with my dad.' we got up from the rope lather, where upstairs we made out again.


28th of May

Beyond being grounded, my mom doesn't talk to me, since Wednesday, when I came home with sand in my pockets, salty damp hair and one of the pairs of my boots missing. But I don't care, because that was the day when I came back to life. My mom was just being unfair, that's what Dean tells me. He also tells me I'm 15, and I can be as crazy as I like. But I'm not sure if my therapist agrees on that point. Today he told me 'You don't take your medication, so you'll be coming twice a week, starting next Monday.' I wanted to tell him "I don't need to come, I'm happy!" but I can't be sure if the happiness will carry on. But I only nod my head. He asked me if I wanted to say anything, since I was biting my lip, so I told him how happy I was in a long time. 'Now, are you trying to fool me not to come?' suspicions, he doesn't trust me, but he doesn't know I trust him, maybe he does... I don't know. It took me quite a few sessions to tell him about the cutting, but in the end I did. After that, I had no doubts on telling him anything, because on the first time I told him about the cutting i expected him to react, but he didn't. He just shook his head and wrote that down. Since then I know I can tell him anything, everything... What did he just ask? Did I go in a trans again? 'What? Sorry, I guess I went into dreaming again...' but he wasn't there. Where was he? I checked my watch, we still had some time. I got out of the room, and there he was, the punk kid, his head down, his mom holding by his upper arm, squeezing. He looked as if he was in trouble. My therapist was talking rapidly at his mom, nodding, and talking again. I looked at the boy, and he looked at me, with furious eyes. Almost angry, at me? My therapist looked back, and found me standing at the doorway. 'See you on Monday Becca.' and I left.


30th of May

I haven't been seeing Dean since. He's avoiding me, because of regrets? Did he regret what we have done? I don think so, he doesn't regret things like that. Plus, we had had a great time. Maybe he got into trouble with his parents or something. I'm surprise he didn't get grounded after he got expelled. Either he did, but everyday ran out, or his parents don't talk to him and leave him alone. My mom often does that, and its worst than another punishment I've ever been through. Except life's punishment. So today, I took my violin and passed by Dean's house which is only a few blocks away. First I was gonna throw a rock into his window just like he has done, but then I realized I am not sure which window is his, and plus, I might break it... Better not to risk... So I went ahead and was just about to ring their doorbell, when he, himself, stormed out. Not even looking into my face, he said 'Becca, you shouldn't be here.'  what was wrong? Have I done something? I didn't answer, and just started to walk. What ever he had to say, I didn't want to listen. After I walked for a while, and was almost sure he wouldn't run behind my back, he did. 'I'm sorry Becca, can we talk?' I stopped. And listened. 'Becca, I'm in serious trouble. Its hard to say this, but we cant be friends any longer.' I guess he expected me to say something, but I didn't, so he went on 'I don't know how he knows, but my dad knows about Wednesday. He freaked out. He was furious, he went on asking if I was nuts, after what happened with school. And...and, he told me we were gonna move...Away, to Canada.' I put my head up, as a Uhaul truck passed by. He whispered 'I'm gonna miss you.' and just went, like that. No hug, or a last kiss. But it was better this way, so I really know he means it.


1st of May

These are my last words, and I am using a lot of effort to write them. I knew in the end I would commit suicide, but a week ago, if you have asked me, I would never have guessed today's the day. If I never write in this diary again, know that my suicide attempt has been successful, my only success in life, and I'm in that 5 percent dead population.
Today is Monday. The day my therapist expected me to come. My mom had to drop me off, since I've been too sick to even walk since the day Dean has left. Not physically sick, but mentally, worst than ever. My mom just boosted off since she had to go back to work. What happened next...was just...is there a word to it? Horrible. I stepped inside. My therapist rarely comes out of his room, that depressing, but at the same time comforting room, where he sits on his indigo couch. When I saw him in the entrance, my face lightened up. But then...the punk boy came. With a knife in his hands. And stabbed him. Multiple times. He stabbed, then pulled, he stabbed, then pulled. I don't know where he went, because all my attention was on my therapist, whom I've never asked his name, so the best I can do is to call him my therapist. He went on his knees, then on the floor. And blood, dark red blood came, worst than Lucifers. He was dying, before my eyes, and I wasn't doing anything to stop it. His mouth filled with blood. Then his eyes, his hazel eyes, slowly, closed forever.
Now Dean gone, my dad gone, my friends gone, Lucifer gone, my violin gone, and finally my therapist, forever, gone, why should I carry on? Whats the point? Why suffer in this world of only cries an pain? So mom, I love you, but its my turn to be gone, along with my therapist and Lucifer. Forever, and in peace. Peace at last.     
I hope everyone else will have a happy life. Dean, I hope you can make it to my funeral, if there will be one, where you'll see my dads other family if he comes and brings them along.
             

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 10.03.2011

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