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Description
The Hist War I: Unused Salvation
Chapter 1 Runaway

I threw down the cup onto my floor. The brown carpet tore the cup apart. Fuck it all! Damn it all to hell! Why the fuck did these things always happen to me? My parents might've heard the cup break, but I didn't give a damn anymore. My body hadn't been that weak before, at least not when I was out having a good fuck. I rubbed my shoulder and felt the bones breaking yet again.

"What do you want?" I yelled at the ceiling while imagining it was my doom. It was part of the prison that surrounded me. "What do you want? Why do you torture me? Why not kill me so I can go to the real fucking hell? What game are you playing at, God? What makes you see fit to just throw me around?"

I looked at the desk that was white with a big mirror. It was covered with papers and school books that remained unused. School was not for me; I preferred murdering and fucking. School just got in the way of those things. I walked barefoot on the shattered glass of the cup. I only felt the pain as pinpricks not to be considered, they were just bits of dust. "If you think this should be my hell I will not stand it." I hissed quietly. "I do not have to stay here. This does not have to be my home. Nowhere will be my home now but what I can find at night. In someone's bed where they will be dead in the fucking morning."

My blood started to coat the floor but my skin healed up with the glass turning into skin. I had never understood this but it had been helpful. It was slow to heal but it worked well in the situations I found myself in again and again. I took out a suitcase from my closet and put it on my bed that had no sheets. I opened the suitcase and went to get my clothing. I didn't care if my family saw me leaving or not. I was getting the hell out of here, something I should've done long ago.

I turned and saw a bird fly by. It was a blue jay and I felt a longing to fly away also. I hurried up and after the clothes I didn't know what else to pack. I wouldn't take any food, I could find that on my own, but I knew I was missing something. I already had my wallet in a pocket in my jeans. I had packed some sweaters that my mother had bought me. Godammit! Why the fuck did I have to be so damn sentimental? Was I going to start to learn how to waltz? God, please say no. I wanted to live on the streets and not be put up by society's damn rules.

I threw out my sweaters and they made a soft plop on the floor that seemed to call out anger. I didn't care what happened now. I was not going to get so damn sentimental that I would forget about leaving. Leaving had to be the most important thing now because I couldn't stand it here. I looked out of the window onto the calm street. Houses were lined up and they were all so calm, but probably had their own little hells that were hidden from view; hells that you couldn't find unless you were looking for them.

I put magazines in and folders with papers that I couldn't leave behind. I looked at the suitcase. "Motherfucker!" I yelled and took out a backpack. I transferred most of the things from my suitcase to my backpack, cussing all the time. I acted like I was going on a vacation. A fine fucking sight I'd make if I went running away with a suitcase!

Where was my mind going? Was I losing it all? I didn't want to stay at my home because society told me to, I wanted to stay here because I felt like I should. No one did I truly have a relationship with here. And who needed one anyway? Would I be myself if mushy bullshit spilled out of my mouth? I would lose part of myself and I preferred being independent. I looked at a picture of a boy that I briefly had an affair with before I found out he had AIDS. I was amazed when I didn't get it but also glad, one less thing to worry about.

I sighed as I realized that I had to pick out the pair of shoes I'd wear for the rest of my life, the last pair of shoes I'd ever wear. I went into my closet and looked through them and saw a pair of sneakers. They had a little bit of blood on them which made me sigh. I would wear something that would make me a murder suspect of a murder that I didn't commit. I wanted to be blamed for one of the many horrid things I did commit. I put the shoes on as well as a pair of pure white socks. Luckily there was room for the small dagger.

I finished packing and walked downstairs. I looked down and saw Mom at the bottom. "Erin, the police just called about you." She said. "Where were you last night?"

"Why the fuck do you care?" I asked. "I was out having fun like kids are supposed to. Isn't childhood this bright light in everyone's eyes? A time where adults are supposed to look back in nostalgia?"

"What have I told you about holding your tongue?" Mom asked worriedly. "You're going to run into trouble one day with that attitude."

"I murdered the guy after we fucked." I said to her horrified face. "What? You don't like the truth? You think I like the truth? My hands are covered in blood and I'm glad! If I wasn't I would fall into complete misery!"

"You should fall into misery then!" She yelled at me. "You should feel for your victims! We taught you better than this! You should respect your elders!"

"If my 'elders' showed any respect for me I'd do the same for them." I said and then took out the dagger. The expression on her face made her look like she had been dead for millennia and was still dying. "Just allow me out now. I don't care for family; I can live on my own. You fucking people have this damn idea that locking people up is a good idea. You call this place a home but I call it a hell. I'm never myself here, always a mask. You may love me but I don't care. Just let me out!"

Mom backed away but I knew she would get the phone and call the police. The best thing to do was kill her, but I felt something holding me back. It was not cold and calculating, but caring and tender. I saw a figure of a woman in white that seemed to be more of cloud than anything else. Parts of her seemed to waver and reach out to me. I felt some fear from seeing this image, but the woman seemed more than what she appeared to be. I dropped the dagger and then the woman wasn't there.

I looked back up at Mom and quickly picked the dagger up again. "Don't you dare think of getting the police here." I said. "I don't want any bullshit; just let me out of this fucking house." With that she moved away from the door and I quickly went out of the house. I breathed in the fresh air as I looked around. I was finally free from my cell and now nothing would hold me back.

I looked up at my house that was pure white and I was the purest black that had been a disease in it. I looked back at the door and knew that I was walking out on my past. My bones were breaking and repairing themselves, but I didn't notice this. I was so used to it and my mind was more on the nerve I had shown, the bullshit I had said wasn't true…or maybe it was. Who the fuck was that woman?

I walked out from the porch of my house onto the sidewalk. Images of the future came to me and that damn woman kept on appearing in my mind. Who the fuck was she?

Author's Note: I'm going to have to check over again how much she cusses. If you want to know how I am when I'm angry…That's how Erin is acting now; except I don't have a dagger. Damn, knew I was missing something.

Description
The Hist War I: Unused Salvation
Chapter 1 Runaway

I threw down the cup onto my floor. The brown carpet tore the cup apart. Fuck it all! Damn it all to hell! Why the fuck did these things always happen to me? My parents might've heard the cup break, but I didn't give a damn anymore. My body hadn't been that weak before, at least not when I was out having a good fuck. I rubbed my shoulder and felt the bones breaking yet again.

"What do you want?" I yelled at the ceiling while imagining it was my doom. It was part of the prison that surrounded me. "What do you want? Why do you torture me? Why not kill me so I can go to the real fucking hell? What game are you playing at, God? What makes you see fit to just throw me around?"

I looked at the desk that was white with a big mirror. It was covered with papers and school books that remained unused. School was not for me; I preferred murdering and fucking. School just got in the way of those things. I walked barefoot on the shattered glass of the cup. I only felt the pain as pinpricks not to be considered, they were just bits of dust. "If you think this should be my hell I will not stand it." I hissed quietly. "I do not have to stay here. This does not have to be my home. Nowhere will be my home now but what I can find at night. In someone's bed where they will be dead in the fucking morning."

My blood started to coat the floor but my skin healed up with the glass turning into skin. I had never understood this but it had been helpful. It was slow to heal but it worked well in the situations I found myself in again and again. I took out a suitcase from my closet and put it on my bed that had no sheets. I opened the suitcase and went to get my clothing. I didn't care if my family saw me leaving or not. I was getting the hell out of here, something I should've done long ago.

I turned and saw a bird fly by. It was a blue jay and I felt a longing to fly away also. I hurried up and after the clothes I didn't know what else to pack. I wouldn't take any food, I could find that on my own, but I knew I was missing something. I already had my wallet in a pocket in my jeans. I had packed some sweaters that my mother had bought me. Godammit! Why the fuck did I have to be so damn sentimental? Was I going to start to learn how to waltz? God, please say no. I wanted to live on the streets and not be put up by society's damn rules.

I threw out my sweaters and they made a soft plop on the floor that seemed to call out anger. I didn't care what happened now. I was not going to get so damn sentimental that I would forget about leaving. Leaving had to be the most important thing now because I couldn't stand it here. I looked out of the window onto the calm street. Houses were lined up and they were all so calm, but probably had their own little hells that were hidden from view; hells that you couldn't find unless you were looking for them.

I put magazines in and folders with papers that I couldn't leave behind. I looked at the suitcase. "Motherfucker!" I yelled and took out a backpack. I transferred most of the things from my suitcase to my backpack, cussing all the time. I acted like I was going on a vacation. A fine fucking sight I'd make if I went running away with a suitcase!

Where was my mind going? Was I losing it all? I didn't want to stay at my home because society told me to, I wanted to stay here because I felt like I should. No one did I truly have a relationship with here. And who needed one anyway? Would I be myself if mushy bullshit spilled out of my mouth? I would lose part of myself and I preferred being independent. I looked at a picture of a boy that I briefly had an affair with before I found out he had AIDS. I was amazed when I didn't get it but also glad, one less thing to worry about.

I sighed as I realized that I had to pick out the pair of shoes I'd wear for the rest of my life, the last pair of shoes I'd ever wear. I went into my closet and looked through them and saw a pair of sneakers. They had a little bit of blood on them which made me sigh. I would wear something that would make me a murder suspect of a murder that I didn't commit. I wanted to be blamed for one of the many horrid things I did commit. I put the shoes on as well as a pair of pure white socks. Luckily there was room for the small dagger.

I finished packing and walked downstairs. I looked down and saw Mom at the bottom. "Erin, the police just called about you." She said. "Where were you last night?"

"Why the fuck do you care?" I asked. "I was out having fun like kids are supposed to. Isn't childhood this bright light in everyone's eyes? A time where adults are supposed to look back in nostalgia?"

"What have I told you about holding your tongue?" Mom asked worriedly. "You're going to run into trouble one day with that attitude."

"I murdered the guy after we fucked." I said to her horrified face. "What? You don't like the truth? You think I like the truth? My hands are covered in blood and I'm glad! If I wasn't I would fall into complete misery!"

"You should fall into misery then!" She yelled at me. "You should feel for your victims! We taught you better than this! You should respect your elders!"

"If my 'elders' showed any respect for me I'd do the same for them." I said and then took out the dagger. The expression on her face made her look like she had been dead for millennia and was still dying. "Just allow me out now. I don't care for family; I can live on my own. You fucking people have this damn idea that locking people up is a good idea. You call this place a home but I call it a hell. I'm never myself here, always a mask. You may love me but I don't care. Just let me out!"

Mom backed away but I knew she would get the phone and call the police. The best thing to do was kill her, but I felt something holding me back. It was not cold and calculating, but caring and tender. I saw a figure of a woman in white that seemed to be more of cloud than anything else. Parts of her seemed to waver and reach out to me. I felt some fear from seeing this image, but the woman seemed more than what she appeared to be. I dropped the dagger and then the woman wasn't there.

I looked back up at Mom and quickly picked the dagger up again. "Don't you dare think of getting the police here." I said. "I don't want any bullshit; just let me out of this fucking house." With that she moved away from the door and I quickly went out of the house. I breathed in the fresh air as I looked around. I was finally free from my cell and now nothing would hold me back.

I looked up at my house that was pure white and I was the purest black that had been a disease in it. I looked back at the door and knew that I was walking out on my past. My bones were breaking and repairing themselves, but I didn't notice this. I was so used to it and my mind was more on the nerve I had shown, the bullshit I had said wasn't true…or maybe it was. Who the fuck was that woman?

I walked out from the porch of my house onto the sidewalk. Images of the future came to me and that damn woman kept on appearing in my mind. Who the fuck was she?

Author's Note: I'm going to have to check over again how much she cusses. If you want to know how I am when I'm angry…That's how Erin is acting now; except I don't have a dagger. Damn, knew I was missing something.