She stood in the pouring rain on a cold Tuesday night. The air was clear but the cold made her throat feel like it was tightening with each breath she took in. Molly was your average teen. Hated college , never got on with her parents and most certainly didn't get on with her younger brother Jasper.As she stood in the rain with her soaking blue jeans and white tank top .Her long ,black hair was stuck to her face as her tears fell to the floor , falling just as hard as the raindrops that were crashing down around her and the wet pavement underneath her feet. Everyday was the same for her .She never felt she did enough for herself or for her family. Her brother was getting straight A's and full marks in nearly all the exams he had taken in school and college and was always doing something to impress her parents. She was finding herself all alone , she gave up on the world . She lit up a smoke everyday or two , until eventually she lost count of how many packs she had gone through. She was getting no more than a rebel. Molly would always feel relief when she had a bottle in her hand and stayed out all hours of the night. Promising herself she wouldn't go back home to face the wrath of her parents. She wouldn't dare to answer her father back or she would be in the worst possible trouble.Back when Molly was 12, her father would abuse her. It wasn't just a slap or a pinch. It was punch , after punch.Leaving Molly's skin bruised and leaving just a few of her bones fractured and broken. He would do the most terrible of things to her. But because Molly was so young and innocent at the time she kept what he did to her , to herself. Her mother wouldn't believe her and if her father found out , surely she would be hurt again. Molly thought that it was what every father did to their daughters. She hid her bruises and cuts under big woolly jumpers and long sleeved tops , to stop her friends at college finding out. No one ever did. She didn't tell anyone about how she was feeling. She kept herself , to herself. She thought she was a burden to her friends.They just thought that it was her hormones , since she was growing up. Not one person asked Molly if she was ok. Not one . As she stood with her back up against the wet alley wall, she looked up to the sky and shouted , falling down the wall holding her bottle of whiskey and the box of tablets she had stolen from the medicine cabinet in the kitchen. She lay in a ball on the floor in a murky , black , muddy puddle. It wasn't as if it was her fault that she was abused as a child and was failing at every little thing she did . Molly was sick and tired of the rumors , the abuse , the cold shoulder from her friends. She wanted to be normal .Live live like the pop stars and women you see in Cosmopolitan magazines. Instead , she was a broken hearted girl , ruining her body with self harm and drowning her insides with alcohol.
" I .I am . . so . . sorry" She said turning her hands in to angry fists, covering her face and slipping slowly in to madness in the dark alley. This was it . Here she would die. Alone , cold, in pain, with nobody there to comfort her and wipe away her falling tears. As the rain hit the razor marks on her wrists she clenched her eyes together . The pain was unbearable. As the rain crashed down even harder, she lay there . Forgetting all the pain she was put through. She had enough of the backstabbers and the fake friends. She just wanted everything to start fresh. A family who cared, friends who were there to help her, and that special someone she could wake up to and tell her that she was pretty. But as far as Molly was concerned, she would never get any of those things. She began to pull her hair in her rage. Holding clumps of tangled hair in her dirty and bloody hands."I hate you" She mumbled under her trembling breath. She closed her eyes shaking from the cold, imagining herself starting a new life and finding that glimmer of hope that would help her overcome the fear of her father.