The Way She Feels

So, this is all based off of a song I was addicted to listening before.
No stealing my work.
I COPYRIGHT IT BRUHH
© February 2012, Alexx Co.
c;
Yeah I have my own company.. how you like them apples?

Chapter 1

Titles are for chums c;

September 29, 2011
To whom it may concern,
We have been informed of the current situations regarding your daughter, Shiloh Renee Woods has been to the nurse's office everyday since she started school at Riverdale High School. She has shown sitings of possible self-harm according to the cuts and bruises along her arms, wrist, neck, etc. Shiloh will now be placed under suicide watch at school and is required to attend weekly therapy sessions with the guidance councilor after school on Friday's until 5:30 P.M until further notice.
Sincerely,
Dr. Vaholet, Principal of Riverdale High School


Thirty-eight year old Peter descended the dark brown, creeky, narrow staircase while attempting to button the light blue collared shirt and reading the letter that was received yesterday from his P.O box. His eyebrows joined in confusion as his hazel eyes scanned the page he grasped in his left hand. He reread it a few times before the words processed in his head.
Shiloh.. Bruises.. Cuts.. Suicide watch.. Therapy..
He dropped the letter and stood on the last step staring at the wall ahead in confusion. He rubbed his temples and proceeded to the kitchen to make a to-go mug with dark roast coffee.
Five heaping spoonfuls of sugar and milk.
The room was silent except for the scratching of the spoon against the mug to stir the contents. Peter leaned against the granite counter top and sipped his coffee. Instantly he felt as though a good nights sleep was achieved, though it was not. He immediately tried calming himself before a long day at the office in the next town over.

Shiloh was well on her way to school, if not already unloading the school books and folders in her small locker. Her pale skinny arms covered in a faded purple sweatshirt, legs in regular old denim jeans, and feet in slip on grey vans. Her nose and upper cheeks were covered in small freckles. Her wavy unnatural fire red hair pulled back in a ponytail and her mother's silver necklace was tucked in her plain black shirt.
She sighed and made her way to Mrs. Logudiuse's language arts class and quietly took a seat in the far end of the classroom in the corner.
Briiinnggg.
The bell rang and every student scurried into their classes.
Please don't call on me all class..

Shiloh slumped in her seat as her language arts teacher took attendance.
Jenny.. Westley.. Patricia.. Joe.. Garret.. Daisy.. Monica.. Erin.. Olivia..
"Shiloh?" She peered over her clipboard and acknowledged Shiloh was indeed in her usual spot in the corner of the classroom.
"Well it seems everyone is here," Mrs. Logudiuse spoke to herself. "Today is a free period, do whatever you'd like, but keep the volume to a minimum. Yesterday's test was phenomenal; everyone got a decent grade. Therefore, you earned a free class."
Shiloh instantly crossed her arms top of the small desk and put her head down. Her eyes closed and she began to dream.
Dream.. Dream.. Dream..
"Shiloh," someone clutched her shoulder and slightly shook her. "Dude, the bell rang," it finished.
"Hurmmphh?" was all that came out as she rubbed her eyes. Garret stood beside her with his hand still on Shiloh's shoulder; he was the only person that had ever been friendly toward her in school besides teachers. When her eyes adjusted to the lighting, she gathered her books and proceeded to her next class, algebra.
The routine continued among all her classes; sitting in the corner, attendance, sitting quietly..
'I just want to go home!' she screamed. 'I just want to go home,' she whispered.
The bell rang moments after as if God had answered her plea and she was one of the first few students to exit the biology room. Her feet carried her to her small locker and she retraced her steps from the morning.
Put the books in my bag.. Walk out the main entrance.. Go home on the bus..
She ascended the three stairs on the bus and sat a few seats away from the bus driver. Students were squished together behind her trying to get farthest away from the front as if it had "cooties."
Children these days..

She gazed out the window admiring the clear blue sky, not a single white cloud in sight.
What would it be like to fly?
The bus screeched to a stop and opened its great big door, letting a group of kids off.
One more stop.
It closed the door and steered to the right going down the next street, Rollier Drive. The bus stopped once again and only one student exited the bus, Shiloh. She ran up the driveway to her house and grabbed the house key from under the old welcome mat. She jiggled the key in the hole, turned the key and knob, and pushed the wooden door open.
"I'm home!" She called to no one in particular in her head. Peter was still at work until 6, which meant she had four hours to do whatever it is she wanted.
Sometimes Shiloh would have to act out the way she wanted her family to be in her mind, let her vivid imagination flow. She was always a dreamer, a believer, a creative girl. Her mum would've been proud.
Mum...
She flung her backpack next to the coat hanger and ran upstairs to her room, third door on the left. She sighed and flopped on the full sized white framed bed and stared at the ceiling.
I only wish I could speak..

Salty tears clouded her vision and threatened to crash down her cheeks. She blinked them away and fell into a quiet, almost lifeless slumber.
"Oh darling, you've grown to be a wonderful young lady!" a female voice called out.
Shiloh looked around the breathtaking meadow that she'd always dreamed during short naps. She spotted a woman in the distance motioning for her to leave her position on the fresh green grass. She wore a long, white, flowing dress containing no wrinkles. A string of lace trailed along the trim of the dress. She wore no shoes on her small feet. Her brunette hair was in loose ringlets just past her shoulders with a white lily twisted near her left ear.
'Who is she?' Shiloh questioned as she walked carefully over to her.
"Darling, can you speak?" the unknown woman joked, clearly not knowing.
Shiloh shook her head and her eyes shot down to the ground.
"You cannot speak?" she asked again confused.
No, did you not see I just shook my head moments ago?
"Well, I am your mother. I have been watching over you since I died from a car crash," she paused. "Your father and I were driving home from the grocery store. You see, I hadn't put on my seat belt and a group of teenagers around seventeen or eighteen had came back from a party of some sort. They were as drunk as could be and didn't see me. Your father dialed the ambulance and they told me I had to give birth because I was a few days away from having you anyways.. I died giving birth to you."
Shiloh was speechless, well in her own way.
Mum...
'I've missed you so much,' she whispered in her head, only to be awoken by Peter closing the front door with a bang.

Shiloh automatically jolted awake when she heard the door slam shut and Peter running up the stairs to her room. Before he had the chance to knock on the door, she had swung it open and he stood there awkwardly.
'Shiloh, we need to talk.' He used his hands to sign slowly so that I would understand.
'I want to write, not this.' She replied and grabbed a small whiteboard off the top of her dresser along with a blue colored marker.
Peter walked over to her bed and sat down. He patted the spot next to him like he always had when there was a long discussion. "I received a letter from your principal, Mr. Vaholet," he paused. "Shi.. Maybe you should read it."
She nodded her head and Peter pulled the letter out of his pocket. Her eyes roamed over the words trying to register what was happening.
Shiloh.. Bruises.. Cuts.. Suicide watch.. Therapy..
'Dad, I don't get it. I don't do these things purposely.' She wrote down with a shaky hand and showed him what she wrote. She wiped the sweat from her hands on her old faded away jeans.
"Well, I don't know how you get these cuts, bruises, and scars.. You know how much that worries me," he sighed uneasily.
'Please, Dad.. Believe me.'
"Take off your hoodie then.." he said rather quietly.
She closed her eyes and slowly took her hoodie off as though she dreaded the moment completely. Her arms were mostly bare besides her covered shoulders from her short-sleeved tee..

Shiloh's skinny arms grew cold and goosebumps appeared on her pale skin. She hadn't looked at Peter's face after revealing her arms to him.
"Sh-Shiloh," he cleared his throat. "I know you miss Mum, believe me I do too, but this?" he pointed at her biggest scar; it trailed down from the side of her right arm to her wrist.
She bit her lower lip causing a small amount of blood to clot around the cut. She kept her eyes focused on her feet.
"Shi, look at me," he said sympathetically.
'No. I just want to be left alone...' she sobbed mentally, yet not showing any sign of fear, hatred, or sadness on her face, only a straight face left with no emotions. Peter would never see her shed a single tear, she wouldn't let him.

Peter exited the room after the scolding he gave to his daughter about her self-harm issues. He walked quickly to the couch downstairs in the rather large living room. He laid his feet upon the rectangular coffee table. He let the room stay as silent as possible, no television this time. He just sat. He sat for hours, staring at the only photo perched on the ledge above the fireplace.
She was flashing her million-dollar, gorgeous smile. Her teeth were pearly white and perfectly aligned; straight. Each strand of hair was naturally wavy and a beautiful shade of brunette. Her crystal blue eyes sparkled in the light. She was absolutely breathtaking; that was the day we found out we were having a child.
'She's gone and I miss her more than anything.'

Shiloh remained calm on the outside for the hours Peter had been ignoring her, yet on the inside, she was slowly breaking down. Bit by bit. Piece by piece. Until she is left blank, empty-handed, nothing.
Her calm self grabbed her old Ipod and searched through her library for the one song she needed to hear.
She's upset
Bad day..


Shiloh the song on continuous repeat and mouthed the words to the song, imagining herself singing with a voice she could have have. She laid back down on her comfortable bed. Her crystal blue eyes, much like her mother's closed instantly giving in to her tired body.
Peter eventually fell into a restless sleep. He woke up for a few minutes after hearing a small squeak, but he kept himself laying on the couch.
"Walking upstairs takes quite a lot of work," he groaned, half asleep. He may be a father, however he has the mind of a apathetic and lazy teenager at times.

Shiloh's eyes opened and she swung her legs over the bed side to stand. She dragged her feet over to the wooden dresser of hers. She hesitantly opened the top drawer that contained all of her socks and dug underneath to reveal her secret.
She squeezed her eyes shut as she clutched the sharp, clear glass in the palm of her hand as though her life depended on it. Her fingers wrapped around the small object and almost immediately a thin line of crimson trailed down her extremely pale skin.
Mum...
The song continued to ring through the room, although her father couldn't hear much for the room had soundproof walls.
Heads for the dresser drawer to drive the pain away,
Nothing good can come of this...




A/N Yeah no... updates will never EVER be this long again. This is how much I have written at the moment, which took.. a month and a half.
I posted this on a different website, so if anyone tries to say "ohh you copied this, you didn't write this blah blah blah.." I did. Soooo yeah

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