"It's a boring story, besides, you'll throw me a pity party if I told you. It doesn't matter," Tyler whispered softly.
"Well you obviously don't know me very well then," I replied, somewhat firmly but still lighthearted. "I have seen and hear stories that would make you shiver. I lived in a life where nothing was right side up. And I hope I came out okay," I winked, trying to perk him up.
"I really don't think you could have it that bad," the new girl, Zoey, commented.
"Well, what's your story then?" he questioned me.
"You'll have to tell me your later then," I told him firmly. All he did was smile.
"I was born," I began, "on a dark and stormy night. My mother had run away for a few days, 'to gather her thoughts' she said. But I know she was just afraid of the look on my fathers face when he found out that I was a girl, and not a boy. So she had me in another town, and tried to switch me out for another newborn boy. She didn't want anything bad to happen to me you see, my father could be violent at times," I told them matter-of-factly. "Obviously that didn't happen. So she took me back home, and waited for him. Instead of having the rage that she thought he would have, he became very tender, and asked to hold me. She happily obliged, and thus, my life began."
"I made friends and did well in school easily enough, but I never stopped trying to gain my father's approval. Many times my mother had told me the story of my birth, and warned me never to anger my father. I tried being his perfect angel daughter, being as good of a daughter as I possibly could. Most of the time I succeeded, but occasionally I would do something wrong..." I trialed, a small tear running down my dirty cheek. "He would hit me, and then storm out to who knows where, and got drunk. I hated causing him to do that, it was all my fault after all. So I would cry, and make his favourite cookies for when he got home. By the time morning would come, we were 'friends' again, and he would apologize for everything. The cookies would be gone, and my mother still looked at me in disapproval."
"I eventually started staying out as much as possible, hooking up with whatever people I could to avoid going home, and looking into my mother's disapproving eyes, and risk my father's anger. One thing I found I could do with him though, was crazy things. He would take me out and we would shop lift, or graffiti walls. He enjoyed living on the 'wrong' side. I always went back and paid for the stuff, or painted over the wall, but that didn't stop me from doing it all with him again. I loved spending time with him. I went with him to get a tattoo, I wasn't old enough, but he got one, on his wrist. It was my name. I cried when I saw it, and he just hugged me. I really do love my dad, it's just when he's angry he doesn't know himself..." I trailed, gathering my thoughts once more.
"There was an accident later on, about a year after he got the tattoo. I was in a car accident, and he was the other driver. Karen, my friend, had been driving under age, and he had been trying to chase us down, get me out of the vehicle before we crashed. Sadly, he was put in a coma be the crash, and I broke my left arm. Karen was barely injured, but was put in juvie for some time, and her parents moved soon after. Dad eventually woke up, and the day he got home we went out to streak our hair red, to remind us of the accident, and the time that we lost over it. That was the day before I was kidnapped." I said, noticing the tightness of my throat and the freeness at which my tears flowed down my cheeks.