|The worst feeling ever is when you're crying in silence because you don't want anyone to know you are- Unknown|

True P.O.V

My families back. I can't say that, that is a good thing, but it was nice to have people back in the house, regardless of the fact that the people who came back hate me. I know they hate me, they don't have to tell me for me to know.

Tomorrow is New Years Eve, and I don't know what I'm going to be doing anything with anyone, I rather be alone, mainly because it's obvious I'm not welcome. Not here anyway.

I don't really understand New Year's Eve and Day. What's so special about it? I don't know, and I really think it's stupid. Everyone in New York goes to see the ball drop in person, but I think that's a waste of time. Everyone wishes they could see fireworks as well, but they live with the ball dropping, idiots.

I'm in my room right now, and I think it's kind of funny. No one really knows I'm home. They didn't make sure I was here when they got back or anything, they simply returned like nothing had changed, they'd simply got back from a holiday and not like they had left a child at home, a child I may mention is still underaged and to young to be left alone.

But did that stop my family from up and leaving me, again.

I mean at this point it isn't even new, I was used to them leaving, at this point I usually don't know they're gone until they get back, that's how sad it is, with mom taking my siblings on little trips all the time and dad never being home, I was used to be home without any of my family being home. Occasionally one or two of my family members may be home, but they would just ignore me to a point I forget their there.

That's kind of sad now that I think about it, but whatever.

I wish I had a poster on my walls or something, to give me room so fuckin' life because this is sad. I think my room needs some life. I mean with my bland grey sheets and comforter, and practically nothing in this room. While my siblings have so many toys and fun inside there room's I have depression. I mean yes, I have depression, but my room screams depression as well.

Sigh.

I move the pillow that was under my head and turn my body completely over. I looked at my door, I was orginally attempting to take a nap, but of course, Madisyn just won't let me. I swear she's going through a Selena Gomez faze. I've heard the songs Come & Get It, Same Old Love, Hands To Myself, The Heart Wants What It Wants, Kill Em With Kindness, and Love You Like A Love Song at least five times each and it's really getting to me, eventually someone would get tired of the same songs, especially if they're sung by Selena Gomez. Nothing against her as a person, it's just her damn songs, they make me want to kill my self, but without a ounce of kindness.

And the fucked up thing. I can't yell at Madisyn to turn the damn stuff off. People don't want to hear Selena this much, couldn't Madisyn play some logical music? Like I'd totally take Taylor Swift over Selena Gomez right now. Why couldn't Madisyn have a teenage crush on JB? Like seriously??

I swear to god I feel like walking into Madisyn's room and slamming her damn stereo against a wall. But if I did, I'd most likely end up in the basement, and just thinking about the basement made me shiver. I really hated the basement. I really, really did.

It was like a childs nightmares we trapped in that basement. I bet some kids dream about being kidnapped and the basement is the place they imagine waking up. If I woke up in there, I'd hope I wasn't still chained to the pole or wall because then I'd be stuck down there until dad remembered to let me out, or maybe I'd be forgotten down there, I really think dad forgets he locked me down there, I know he has a couple times only to be reminded awhile later.

I sometimes think I'm going to die down there, because sometimes dad's belt would cut threw flesh, it happened more often when dad removed my shirt just so he could cut into my skin. I think he likes it when I bleed in his weird twisted mind he loves to see my leak red liquid, aka blood.

And if I could, I would avoid the basement forever if possible.

But somewhere deep in my soul, I knew that before I dead, I'd be down there one more time.

I could prey I wasn't true though.

But somehow, I knew it would happen.

I grabbed the pillow under my head and held over my head, trying to block out the words of Hands To Myself, screaming into my pillow which muted the scream and was trying to mute the sound of Selena Gomez.

Kill.

Me.

Please.

Kill Selena Gomez.

Destroy Madisyn's Stereo.

Do anything to get rid of this loud ass blaring music.

"MADISYN SHUT THAT SHIT UP!!!!" Christin yelled through the house, and for once I agreed with him because this was fucking unbearable.

"NO!!!!!!!!" Madisyn yelled loudly back to Chris, and felt all my brothers slam there heads against the wall.

"TURN THAT DEVIL MUSIC OFF!!" Bryan yelled from his lemon lime room.

"SHUT THAT SHIT OFF MADDIE!!!!!!" Michael yelled louder than Bryan and Chris combined. The music shut off instantly, and I can explain it. Michael rarely talks, and for him to yell, you knew he was pissed off, thus why I think me and him could be very close if we tried, were both quiet, well quieter than all our other siblings combined which I guess is a accomplishment.

I signed in contentment when the house became silent again. I smiled at my self before wincing when I moved onto a bad spot of my back, it was my bad.

I close my eyes and sighed in content as I fell into a nap, not caring that my room was unlocked and anyone could come in, I was peaceful and I was going to enjoy the feeling while it lasted because I knew when I returned into consciousness that the fear and pain would just return because that's what pain did, it came back to bite you in the ass.

It's pitiful.

I'm pitiful.

Life is pitiful.

Geez am I such a loser than I'm talking to myself and my subconscious? Yes, yes I am.

Claire P.O.V

I sat unhappily at my kitchen table, looking at my younger brother Blayke play on his phone underneath the table. I was bored as fuck. My older sister Rebecca was talking to fast for me to understand a damn word out of my mouth, I really hated her. She reminded me of th girls who pick on me and True at school, the group called the mean girls, the cheerleaders. Boy, I can't believe I was once a cheerleader. I was once. In Freshmen year.

But after I had sex with Rakel, one of the popular boys and one of Union's closest friends, and it ruined my facade. The cheerleaders acted like having sex was pure evil even though I swear a few of them had already had sex before me, like back in middle school.

But sometimes I was really thankful that happened without it I would have never became friends with True and Kyle. I was mean to True before my facade dropped but that wasn't what made me respect True. It was the fact that he welcomed me with open arms regardless of the fact that I bullied him before just like everyone else, but knowing him now, I couldn't remember why we did it. He was nice to people who treated him the same way, you know that childhood school saying? 'Treat people the way you want to be treated' and if that system worked then most people would be getting punched back really, really hard.

And I think some of them deserve it. They don't ever put themselves in his place. They don't know what's going on in his life, and the little I did know shocked me, but I knew there was so much more that True kept locked inside. And I knew from experience that you don't keep that shit locked up for to long because it would break you in the end.

But his version of the end was dying.

He doesn't think anybody cares but I know for a fact that some people do care. But a majority of the people in True's life do not. Which probably leaves a bad scar over time. And I knew that scar had to hurt, no it wasn't physical, it was a mental scar, the scar's that hurt the most were the ones that you couldn't see with your eyes, it was the ones you feel, and most people don't believe they exist until they have a scar of there own.

But most of those scar's rest on our hearts.

Everyone has a scar, whether they know it or not.

Including me.

But the big question was, what was True's biggest scar?