So pretty much I just wrote this story because my friend and I were bored and we decided to create a character. Pretty emo girl and stuff. The ending kind of sucks because I was tired and I didn't feel like finishing it.

But anyways, I was to write it out in story form and he was going to make it a song for our band.

So here it is, all in its gloriously emo form:

The carpet in her room was getting dirty.

But then so was the rest of her room.

She remembered when she was about five and her room being pristine and the walls were a light shade of pink. The carpet had been a glistening white.

Now it was a nice shade of brown, with various soda stains, food stains, mold, and God knew what else.

She had also painted black stripes to mingle with the pink.

Pink was too innocent of a color. It was for cute, innocent little girls.

Alyssa was not a cute little girl. She thought of the black stripes as the tainted side of her.

She liked the black.

Alyssa found herself staring at the carpet in her room for the fifth time in that week. But, she had nothing else to do. Her parents had locked her in again while they went out to have their 'nice evening in a civilized atmosphere'.

She had been grounded again.

For the six millionth time.

This time it was because she was out too late at a party with her friends.

Her parents had explicitly explained to her that she was to be out no later than eleven o'clock at night. Of course, she had turned a deaf ear to their warnings and nodded her head like a good girl, smiled, and said 'yes' whenever there was a pause. Then she ran into the car with her friends and was off to the land of teenage parties.

She called for her mom at about three in the morning, drunk and very, very high.

She had one helluva hangover and one helluva long grounding period.

Alyssa looked at the digital alarm clock to the left of drawer and instead of finding the time, found the shirt that she had been looking for all day. She picked it up, tossed it aside, onto the floor, so that the lone article of clothing could join its companions. It was 8:30 PM, her parents would be home soon. Then she'd take a shower, go to sleep, wake up, clean up, go to school, get high with her friends, go home, get locked in, go to sleep... rinse and repeat.

Alyssa realized then and there that her life was becoming what she read in books: an endless cycle that repeated itself over and over, perpetually.

The sound of crunching gravel and a car engine reaches her ears. Then, the engine turning off and a car door opening and closing. A feeling of resentment reaches Alyssa's chest.

Her parents are home.

The house's front door open and closes. Footsteps... going from the anteroom to the hall...

...Towards her room.

Keys jangle.

She sees her doorknob turn.

And her mother pokes her head in.

People said that Alyssa looked like her mother. She had the same jade green eyes and the same dirty blond hair.

Alyssa saw no other resemblance. Her mother was a quiet woman, a hard worker, and her anger was frozen fury. A few chilled words from her were smacks to the face by a cold, cutting whip.

"Alyssa?" her mothers soft, melodic voice resonated through the room.

She looked up, her green eyes hard. "What?"

Her mother's same green eyes locked with hers, then her mother looked away. "It's time for you to take a shower and go to bed."

Then, with that, she left.

It hurt. When your mother wouldn't even look at you in the eyes. It meant that they were ashamed of her.

Well then, she didn't give a damn. She saw her green-blue striped pajamas lying on the floor and picked them up. Then she grabbed a random shirt from the ground and without even bothering to look at them, tramped down the hall and to the right to the bathroom.

She slammed the door and locked it. Then threw her pajamas and shirt to the ground. She threw aside the shower curtains and turned the handle hard, causing an icy stream of water to flow out. As she did this, she tried hard not to cry.

Why the hell had she ever been born? No one even loved her; even her mother wouldn't look at her. She was too ashamed to. She had reason to be. Alyssa had no talents and she was good at nothing. She wasn't smart, she was failing school; she wasn't artistic, she had been doodling once and it ended up looking like a demented toilet; she wasn't athletic, it was sad watching her even try play softball. She was really good-for-nothing.

She wanted to stop pitying herself. Maybe that's all she was good at. She was a piece of shit and all she was good at was pitying herself.

She didn't know why, but she threw herself into the shower. She didn't care if she hadn't taken off her clothes; she didn't care if the water was freezing cold.

She just wanted it to end.

Then, she realized she was crying.
Through blurred vision, she looked at the small shelf in the shower where she kept the shampoo, soap, and razor.

With shaking hands, she pulled the razor out of the shelf.

It could end this way.

It would be a way to get out of the pain; her uselessness; the endless shit cycle of her life.

Cupping it in her palms, she bent down to her knees, soaking wet and her hair falling sloppily over her eyes.

Dirty blond. Just like her mothers. Her mother... who was so pretty, so smart, so hardworking.

So ashamed of her own daughter.

Alyssa had read somewhere that the cutting wouldn't hurt if she did it fast with something sharp.

She stared at the gleaming edge of the cruel razor. It was sharp.

Picking it up between her right index finger and thumb, she brought it down to her wrist.

A quick slash on her left wrist; switch; to her right... and it would over.

She bit her lip and then sliced with all her might.

Then the crimson torrent came.

The metallic smell of blood rose to Alyssa's nose. It was streaming down her arm fast, mingling with the shower water, and slowly draining down the small hole of her shower.

One more.

She brought it down one more time, closed her eyes and then waited. Six to ten minutes. She had read that somewhere.
- - - -
Alyssa's mother stared worriedly at the clock.

Alyssa had been in the shower for over an hour. She had knocked on the door repeatedly, but there was no answer.

"Two more minutes." Her husband had said, and then he would knock down the door.

Two minutes had been half an hour ago.

They had found Alyssa covered in her own blood.

And their tears mingled with Alyssa's blood.

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