#once. a girl was powerless to stop her sister’s death. 11 years later. the girl grew up and holds her newborn niece. filled with deja vu

[emmettxtaylor]

Name: Emmett Taylor Age: 39 Years Old Occupation: FBI Agent Residence: Born in Savannah, Georgia and moved to New York at 19, currently lives in Manhattan on the Upper West Side Sexuality: Heteroflexible

Biography

TW: death, kidnapping

Emmett grew up in the deep south in Savannah, Georgia with his mother Helen, his father Jacob and two younger sisters, twins named Danielle and Hannah. It was a quiet little life for the Taylor family for years, living a middle class suburban life in the 80s and early 90s. Jacob served in the army for much of his youth but once the couple started to have kids he took a job with the Savannah police department to spend more time at home with his family. Every family has its secrets though and the Taylor family mystery revolved around Helen. To the untrained eye she was simply a suburban housewife who maybe liked to drink a little too much from time to time, but was otherwise an attentive mother to her children who always had dinner on the table when her husband came home from work. Unfortunately for the Taylors, there was more to the story.

In the 1970s, Helen Taylor worked for a private law office as the receptionist, eventually working her way up to be the personal assistant of a man who was much more influential and powerful in the city of Savannah than anyone knew. During her time there, Helen learned all sorts of things about wealthy businessmen and politicians that made her someone who’s discretion and silence was very valuable. When her husband came home from his deployment and they started their family, Helen decided it was time to step back from her career, unfortunately, the things that she knew and the things that she’d seen did not step away from her, respectively. The secrets that she carried continued to pop up in her life, people who wanted to make sure she would never have the opportunity to expose them. The Taylors moved around a few times in Emmett’s childhood but by the time his sisters were born they’d stopped trying to hide. Jacob was a respected police officer and Helen had all but become invisible in her own life. Things seemed to have settled down.

Until the day when Danielle and Hannah were kidnapped at least. Emmett was seventeen, the girls were eleven at the time, and that day would be one that he replayed in his head over and over for years to come. For days the Taylors worked with the police to find the abducted daughters of Jacob and Helen but there was no sign of them. No answers to be found. The trail had gone cold and the case came to a screeching halt after twenty days of silence. Devastated, assuming the worst, Helen Taylor fell apart and Jacob threw himself into his work to try and find his missing daughters, leaving Emmett to figure out life on his own. It was a dark time in his life, wondering if he was ever going to see them again, or if his mother would ever recover from this loss if they didn’t find them.

And then one day, four weeks after the abduction, Danielle was spotted in Atlanta and police moved in to bring her home. Though the girl was unharmed, she was traumatized and didn’t speak a word about what happened to her for years, in fact, she didn’t speak a word at all. Weeks later, Hannah’s body was found in a shallow grave by the Savannah River and the suspects were apprehended. The FBI concluded that the little girl had actually escaped her captors and had died as the result of an injury sustained while trying to find help for her sister.  As expected, Danielle was never the same after that and neither was the rest of their family. Within the next year, Helen was tragically killed in a car accident and Emmett knew it was time for him to leave Savannah. There were too many bad memories there and he didn’t have the strength to deal with it.

On his nineteenth birthday, Emmett packed up everything he owned and left for New York city to join the police academy. After watching what happened to his sisters and subsequently his family as a result, Emmett never wanted to feel that small and powerless again. He’d turned into someone who was tough and hardened to others and needed to feel as if his life had a purpose. Once he’d made it through the academy and started working with the NYPD right after 9/11, he was finally starting to feel like he had his life in order. He spent six years working with the NYPD in the gangs unit before he was offered a position working with the FBI as a special agent when he was 28. Emmett got to do all the work he dreamed of and he made an excellent agent, winning valor awards and being promoted more than once. It’s now been seven years that Emmett has been with the FBI and his task force revolves around keeping an eye on the major players in the city. He’s made good relations with some of the family members and has an agreement that as long as no one gets hurt, he looks the other way. Anyone who is anyone in the families knows who Special Agent Emmett Taylor is and if they’re smart, they make it a point to get on his good side. He’s brought down many of the higher ups over the years who refused to play nice and he’s not afraid to take the shot when he has it.

All's well that ends well, at least that’s what he tells himself.

[quiltwork]

Domestic Violence

Content Note: I’m going to be talking in depth on my traumas, and how I processed through them to what I’ve learned and accepted today. View at your own discretion depending on your stress level lately and if you think you’ll be easily triggered by the subject.

One night when I was 5 years old, I was playing with toys by the front door. My older sister had come over to visit my Mom. She was 11 years older than me, so she was 16 at the time. She was living with her older boyfriend, since she dropped out of school a couple years ago. They were having a loud argument in the kitchen, so I decided to stay quiet and keep to myself unless Mom needed me. 

All of a sudden, Mom walks out on over to me and picks me up, and we’re running to our room. My sister is chasing after us with a knife. I’m screaming and crying. Mom locks the door, and my sister bangs and slams her body against it hoping to break the door, threatening that she’ll get in. I’m afraid she will, but my Mom reassures me we’re safe and she calls 911 on her conair clear 90s telephone. 

Not too long after, the banging stops. She’s told to go out of the room cause they’re there. “Are you sure it’s safe?” “Yes, they’re here”, she says. I find a bunch of police officers with my sister in handcuffs along with her boyfriend who came to pick her up in handcuffs as well. I’m a little scared of how serious the officers are, but I’m glad they saved us. This incident gives me a fear of dying, fear of being murdered in my sleep, and a fear of falling asleep. I don’t fully connect this with my sister being a killer for a period of time, but I am afraid for a while when she’s let out of jail and comes over. 

We don’t have a sibling relationship. She’s barely around, unless my Mom picks her up somewhere and she’s acting silly. I find her funny then. She comes back to live with us after Grandma dies. I’m 10 years old now, and she’s 21. Things turn for the worst and there’s no turning back for a long time. 

I first realize something’s wrong when I’m left to be babysat by her while Mom works third shift. Her silly behavior becomes annoying, and I understand what Mom meant by how she was drunk, and how much it would annoy even her. She wants to play and hang out with me, but I don’t want to. At some point she’s on top of me, crushing me beneath her adult weight, and I can’t breathe. I eventually get out and run to my room, terrified.

I then write a letter to my Grandma in Heaven to save me. As she’s making her way toward my room, Papaw opens his door to reprimand her to leave me alone, and she does. The next day, Mom looks over my bruises and gets on my sister for what she’s done. My sister rolls her eyes and says, “Whatever”. I was sad for getting hurt, but now I’m angry that she doesn’t care that she’s hurt me. 

I’m soon taught to suppress my anger around her, to never let her know how I feel, or else she’ll murder me. “This is so unfair!”, I protest. “It’s not about fair, it’s about being safe”, my Mom would say. She taught me whenever fights would ensue, to run to my room and lock the door until she came to let me out. I felt powerless. 

So that’s what I’d do. When my sister was in the mood to shout at the family, or physically attack them (and I do mean everyone), I’d go to my room crying. Praying to God to calm down the house, and He would do it every single time. It amazed me, and I would thank Him and count on Him to be there. Sometimes hiding away made things worse, as she’d try to manipulate me to open the door, or I was too afraid to use the restroom so I’d soil myself and have to change when it was over. 

On a regular basis, we’d go through the cycle of abuse; Depending on her mood, she would act as if we were long lost sisters trying to re-bond, or emotionally and verbally abuse me and pretend I wasn’t there when her friends came over. She was intensely jealous of me whenever I took attention from Mom away, due to being younger and disabled. She was jealous of the fact I was skinny. She would watch me like a hawk at the kitchen table where we sat and she talked with Mom, and I would dissociate to avoid showing emotion so I wouldn’t upset her. Then the fighting would begin, sometimes several times a week, sometimes once a week, other times once a month. I was always on edge and could never trust her. 

It wasn’t long before she would start faking suicide. Suddenly, as if out of nowhere in the middle of an argument, she would go over to grab a kitchen knife and aim it for her throat, ready to plunge the whole thing through. I would run, or I would try to talk her down from it with Mom. Another constant reminder of death, a matter of when. I am frightened of the outcome, and furious when she’d slowly come out of it claiming no one cared for her when they were just trying to help her moments ago. 

At 12 years old, while I’m trying to learn how to love my developing body for the first time, I draw a picture of myself in my daydreaming world. I show my Mom and sister, and my sister doesn’t like it, says I drew it all wrong, that my body doesn’t look like her body. I argue with her that it does look alright because I worked hard to measure it, which doesn’t change her mind because I’m not good enough. Mom and her start to argue, and soon after Mom rushes to the hospital because my sister slammed her finger in Papaw’s door, leaving me alone with her, as she threatens suicide once again. I tell her to do what she wants because I don’t care anymore, and go to my room. She later comes to apologize for the attempt, but not for the disagreement. 

I start to hate my body because of her. I’m not strong like her, I’m not a real girl like her, etc. Because of me being born, her and Mom can’t have a good relationship. I wish she cared about me, but she doesn’t. These are the bad messages I get from the violence and abuse. I run away from home at times to protest, which doesn’t solve anything. I watch her attack my cousin at 14 years old, being frozen in fear, hating myself for not doing anything and probably being right about my cousin not liking me for immediately saving her. I have nervous breakdowns at a friend’s birthday party at 15 years old despite trying so hard to hide the abuse from home. 

Around this time, I start actively arguing with my sister. I’m tired of running away. She never hits me during, but she will to start a fight. Whether during a fight or on a bad mood day, she’ll fake punch or slap me. I never hit her back because it’s petty. At this point onward because she has kids, she uses me to watch them while she sleeps from being hungover. This goes on for years. The last time I remember her hitting me, I was 22 and she hit my chest for some reason. That year, we urge her to move into an apartment with her kids while we prayed for an opening. God answered our prayers. The house was silent for the first time, the house was mine. I felt like I won.

Within the next 2 years, we prayed for God to change her to be a better person. I stood my ground not to be used as a fill-in Mother, to which she’d guilt trip me by telling the kids how much I hated them to get me to give in. I reminded the kids that I still cared, but I refused to give in. She would slowly begin to accept this, accept her weekly drunken behavior was wrong and change, accept medication instead of avoid taking it and have more raging episodes. She would find out from Mom how she traumatized me all these years and cry, and I forgave her. She would vow to have a healthy relationship with me, and we haven’t really had any awful fights since. She slowly began to trust Jesus with her life. 

She still has a ways to go, as we all do. But it blows my mind how I got such a wonderful happy ending to my story. Not many do, and I praise God for it all. He has taught me how much I matter to Him and what my worth is. I have learned to call 911 myself if anything goes on, for I refuse to allow my niece and nephew to go through anything I did, for anything dangerous to go on in my house. With God’s help, I can show them what real love looks like. 

[cataclysmicrp]

HEATHER LEVESQUE | 78TH HUNGER GAMES VICTOR | TAKEN

TRAITS:

+ Determined, Observant, Resourceful - Perfectionist, Bears Grudges, Prideful

BIOGRAPHY:

TW: Death

Heather was popular as a child, at least amongst the people of her zone in 11. She had a remarkable set of talents that drew the attention of many. Her singing and dancing captivated other children, teachers, even a few Peacekeepers. She was showered with attention and sometimes even gifts, from the few who could afford them. However, this made her arrogant, and when she started school, she had few friends. Her constant companion was a girl named Elayne, who had short, cropped hair. They’d been friends ever since they were in diapers and she was the one to knock some sense into Heather so that she would stop queening over everyone. After that, she gained more friends, though she wasn’t as popular as she was before.

Her parents shielded her from the existence of the Hunger Games as long as they could. Evading questions about people disappearing, or why Cousin Jerome never came around anymore. However, when Phoebe turned 12, her parents decided to tell her. As she was just 7, she had just started school and hadn’t learnt about the Dark Days or the rebellion just yet. However, the night before Phoebe went to sign up for her tesseraes, her parents did their best to explain what the Hunger Games were, and how Phoebe might be involved. Heather didn’t really understand the concept of death, but she knew she didn’t want her sister to be taken away from her forever. That night, she crawled into Phoebe’s bed and snuggled into her arms. “You can’t go away. You’re staying here with me forever,” she murmured, deciding that she would fight anyone who would dare lay a finger on her sister. Ever since then she had always dreaded Reaping Day. She always held her breath as she prayed that the name on the paper was anyone’s but Phoebe’s. It never was. Even after being told about the Hunger Games, her parents forbade her from watching it. She was sent out of the room whenever it played on the TV, and she was instructed to not watch the TVs at school when they played it during the breaks. For a while, she dutifully followed their orders. However, it all changed when the 74th Hunger Games came. Everyone at school was talking about it, so were her parents and her sister, though they would always change the subject whenever she came into the room. Curiosity got the better of her and she demanded Elayne to tell her what was so special about that year’s games. After that, she watched the games obsessively, at school or at the village square. This was a chance to change their lives. This might be it. She could do it.

When Katniss and Peeta came to 11 during their Victory Tour, she knew that they were telling them to stand up and fight. They were telling them that they couldn’t sit quietly anymore. Their lives were not just the Capitol’s play-things. They were not Snow’s play-things. Rue’s life must not be in vain. When the Third Quarter Quell was announced, Heather was more than devastated. She was angry. How dare he try to take their hope away from them. Anyone could see that the Third Quarter Quell was Snow’s last-ditch attempt to quell the uprisings. But he would fail. That was for sure. The people were angry, and they were ready to fight. He was powerless when Katniss lit the spark, for the flames spread too fast and too far. The Mockingjay’s fire empowered all of them, giving them courage and chasing away their fears. They would stand. They would fight. And they would succeed.

Her parents, angry as they were, knew that they had to prioritize their children first. They did not fight back directly, however, they did help the revolution in small ways. Her father helped sneak food to District 13. Her mother, though small and meek, bravely stood up against the Peacekeepers when they went after the small children in the village. Phoebe helped cover for other workers when they snuck off to strategize and carry out plans. Heather used her talent for climbing trees to look out for Peacekeepers, whistling specific tunes to warn others to get back to work when she saw them approaching. Throughout the whole rebellion, she stayed in District 11, protecting her home and the ones she loved.

Or so she thought.

She was so stupid. She was so naïve. She was a complete idiot to think that Coin would change things. Coin took them in completely, promising equality and peace. She promised them a better life, but all she wanted was Snow’s power. She was good at keeping up her façade though. She provided medical care, more food, and clean water to 11. She helped rebuild their homes that were ravaged by war. She seemed so kind. She justified the Capitol Games as revenge, the Victors Games as a safety measure. At first, it seemed smart. In hindsight, it was such an obvious sign that Coin was just securing her position. Back in 11, Heather could see the weariness come back in people’s faces as she walked around in town. They knew they had made a mistake. But now, they didn’t have the power nor the courage to fight back. District 13 had come up with most of the operations, and provided them with the weapons. The Mockingjay had given them hope. They knew, they knew, but no one said anything. How could they? The Peacekeepers, of whom many were from 13, were still in 11, spying on them, making sure they were still loyal to Coin. District 13 had infiltrated every part of their homes, their lives. It was welcomed at first, but back then they were on the same side. Now though, now, Heather could see that things had changed, in the hardened gaze of the once-friendly Peacekeeper Bruce, and the hopelessness in eyes of her teacher Ms Honey, who had helped fight in the riots and a missing hand to prove it. When Coin announced the return of the Games, everyone cried, but no one was really surprised. Their lives retuned to as they were before. Before the fire still burned hot in people’s hearts. Before the girl on fire lit the flame. Before Katniss Everdeen pulled out those berries out of love, and only love.

When Heather turned 12, her parents forbade her from taking any tesseraes. However, the year after she had to take them, lest her family starve like they did the previous year. The year after, she took the tesseraes again, only this time, this time she wasn’t as lucky.

She remembered the stillness of the world seconds after her name was called. It was as if time had stopped. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. Then a shriek pierced the silence. “No! NO! You can’t take her! Please!” Towards her right, she saw a scuffle break out as Peacekeepers held her sister back. “Take me! Take me instead!” But they couldn’t. They couldn’t take her because she was 19 now and she couldn’t go and so Heather had to go Heatherhadtogoshehadtoleaveshewasgoingtodie- Clenching her jaw, Heather marched up the podium, resolutely ignoring her sister’s cries and her parents’ quiet sobs. Her heart pounded as she stood stock still on the stage. She could barely register what was going on around her, but something pulled her out of her head. A name called. His name called. She bit her lip as her best friend’s brother, Evan, took his place beside her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw two burly Peacekeepers tackle Elayne to the ground as they had done to Phoebe. After that, she kept her eyes on the ground until they were out of the public eye.

That year, the tributes were greeted with a desert wasteland. The dry cracks in the ground suddenly made her own mouth feel dry and parched. The sweltering heat from the white sun beat down her. Heather had already started sweating in her tight shirt and leggings. The cornucopia glinted blindingly in the sunlight in the middle of the circle of tributes. The space between the tributes and the cornucopia was strewn with weapons, supply packs, and most importantly, water. Four one-gallon bottles of water stood right at the mouth of the cornucopia. Small one litre bottles of water were scattered around elsewhere. From what Heather could see, there were only three measly bottles. The moment the gong sounded, Heather snatched up the bag closest to her and tried to grab one of those few precious bottles of water, but another tribute shoved her out of the way and ran off with it. Knowing the Careers would be after her, she quickly scrambled to her feet and ran as far as she could away from the cornucopia. The flat expanse of sand and dirt provided no cover from anyone at all. All she could do was to keep running. Fortunately, she was a fast runner and about two hours later, she couldn’t see any other tributes around her. As she ran, she noticed the scenery changing slightly. Bigger rocks began to appear more frequently, and she had to watch her step. After inspecting some of the rocks for water, she found an entrance leading to an underground tunnel. There were tunnels running below the surface and the entrances were concealed by strategically placed rocks. Small underground ponds were the only other sources of water. However, vicious rats and giant scorpions ran rampant in the tunnels. Pits of quicksand were spread throughout the whole arena both above and underground. Heather survived by being stealthy enough to follow the rats to sources of water. Within the first week, half of the tributes were dead due to dehydration. By then, the Careers had also hunted down several tributes, increasing the death count. By the second week, only four Careers, Heather and Evan were left. Heather had not encountered Evan at all in the arena. Back when they were in training, she had thought that he would want to be allies, but he never brought it up, and so neither did she. She didn’t want them to be the last two anyway. Maybe one of the Careers might kill him or herself before they were forced to fight each other. Heather knew that the Careers were hunting her down, so she got herself ready for it. When they found her, she led them down a tunnel she had concealed beforehand. Some areas of the tunnel were completely covered in quicksand, but as she had scouted the area before, she knew where to step. Unfortunately, the Careers did not. With the Careers stuck in the quicksand, she threw knives at them while hidden in the shadows. She didn’t wait to see if the knives had killed them completely, escaping through another tunnel. Later that day, she heard three cannons. Not even a day after, the Gamemakers sent giant serpents after the remaining three, Heather, Evan and the girl from 2, forcing them into a small tight cave with a dead end. A minute later, Evan’s torch, the only source of light, died, and they were plunged into complete darkness. Heather had a torch in her bag but she was too afraid to let her guard down for even a second in the dark. Blindly, she stabbed her dagger at anything and everything. She had just driven her dagger hard into something when suddenly, the hissing of the snakes stopped. She could hear two people breathing heavily, but she didn’t sense any movement around her.

“Heather,” a familiar voice rasped. Her head turned towards the source of the sound. Quickly, she tore her torch out of her bag and shone it towards her right. Evan was lying on the ground in front of her. Only. Only. Only there was a dagger sticking out of his belly. Her dagger.

Heather’s victory in the Games was no victory at all. She won by killing her best friend’s brother. Coin might as well kill her too; she didn’t want to live anymore.

Heather became a shell of what she once was. She turned mute. The only times she talked were in her sleep. Nightmares haunted her for months after the games. Her eyes, once bright and alert, had turned a dull black. She didn’t seem to see or register what was going on around her. Her body seemed to cave in on itself. Her passionate spirit had been completely extinguished. She couldn’t feel, wouldn’t feel. Because feeling meant acknowledging that she killed him. She killed him. And so she went numb. She didn’t know how to face she could face anyone when she got back to 11 during her Victory Tour. She didn’t know if she could face Elayne. When she was presented to her district as the Victor, there was no cheering, no shouting. Everyone looked so, so tired. There was no revolution. Year after year they would have to send their children to die because they failed. Her family left her alone. They couldn’t imagine what she was going through. They brought her food, made sure she was clean, and tried to make her life as comfortable as possible. Heather felt like a prisoner trapped within her own mind. She felt like she was just waiting for death to come take her. Preferably sooner rather than later. However, after months in solitude, she grew more and more antsy. How was it possible to feel both alive and dead at the same time? It was a sickening feeling, with the desire to get out and run away burning through her veins, only to be stopped by her sluggish limbs. Heather desperately wished she was back in the orchards of District 11. High up in the trees, with the mockingjays as her only company. Singing freely and then hearing the same melody repeated and overlapped again and again. The cold wind blowing across her face and the enticing smells of pine and cinnamon and cloves and-

She stopped her train of thought before she could start bawling again.

Faceclaim: China Anne McClain

[conasshite-blog]

My story so far.

The way I like to make people to see me is a happy guy who is trying to better himself I have a fair few friends who love me, I have a good job I like, a great family I love and everything I could want. But in a sort of stranger things like situation that's how the rest of the world live where as I am actually stuck in the upside down. How I actually feel is a very very unhappy guy who is trying to change himself to possibly put a small bit of happiness in his life. I have a couple true friends who unrelentingly try to help even though every time they try I throw it back at them.i have an ok job pays me way but I hate it it's a little 9-5 job that basically means nothing to me except 24/7 stress.i have a pretty f'd up family the only 2 people that matter in my family are my mum and my grandad however they also see me as the person described earlier. The whole I have everything I could want it's bull the only two things I want are true happiness and someone to love. At this current point I am 21 years old I have contemplated death numerous times a tried it once or twice. As I'm writing this I'm unsure whether this is a suicide note, a cry for help or me trying to come to terms with everything.

It's hard to properly explain how I feel because I can never actually muster the words to do so. Even now I'm trying to write it all down and I can't. To list feelings I feel on a regular basis would be hatred, regret, sadness, envy,powerlessness and the odd one out and most strong is love. I feel like love is what drives most of these feelings. For the longest time love has been a major part of these feelings and my life. Currently hatred is of myself because every friendship or relationship I have I destroy. Regret because I have let so many good things leave me. Envy of the partner to the girl I have loved for years. The thing is though that love isn't the only thing that makes me like this. I have so much going on that yes love is a huge factor however those feelings can be applied to nearly everything in my life.

Before all of this I feel like I was a happy kid that had a lot of friends and I would see those friends everyday and play Xbox with them everyday and I had no issues it was great. I would go to school I wasn't the best student I was a bit of an arse if you ask me but I got through it but I enjoyed it being surrounded by my friends . The earliest memory of me feeling how I do is around 11/12 years old I was in school I was trying to hang myself from the staircase I don't remember what made me feel like this but to me that was the last day. Obviously it didn't end hence why I'm here today. A friend that I had at the time found me and stopped me before it was too late she took the tie from around my neck and never told a soul she was a good friend at the time.

Jumping forward a few years I was around 14 years old now still feeling like the next day should be my last. My feelings were only getting worse and worse so this is when I first self harmed I had tried three or four different knives found one that would penetrate my flesh it started with 4 maybe 5 cuts and it kinda made me feel better. A few days later I started to feel bad again so added another few. By the end of the week both my arms were full of cuts ranging from small scratches to deep cuts. Parents and school eventually saw these and got involved. I can't remember the excuses I gave but I was on a daily check from my mum and school and after a few weeks they stopped they thought I was better.

Staying at 14 but later in the year specifically December I was at a party and I got to talking with a friend I had known for a couple years we both got a little too drunk and one thing led to another we were kissing. Few days later we got together and a few months in I was actually happy for once I kinda felt whole. Now around February time the next year me and , let's call her Jane, broke up and I spiralled down back to how I was. April that same year we spoke about why we broke up and gave it another shot. For about a year with Jane I was happy we had our differences as every couple does. We went on breaks a lot had some time apart but ultimately we would end up happy. We were in love.

Jump to 16 still with Jane coming up 3 years now. We started to fall out more argue more and our breaks turned into short break ups. We would try and fix our issues but when it come down to it me being depressed and somewhat suicidal was too much and this was it the last straw. Without going into too many details I had fucked everything so much that this was the last of me and Jane.

Losing her sent me further then I ever was before and in all honesty has still affected me now I do think about her and I do miss her. But I digress the rest of that year was pretty shit. I had lost the one person I spoke to about my feelings I didn't just lose my girlfriend I lost my best friend I lost my one way of staying whole. However in a sort of twisted turn of events I got better I went to college, then I got an apprenticeship and everything kinda looked up.

A year into my apprenticeship I was 18 and life was ok but stress at work was getting to me and the lack of someone there I bottled all my feelings. I had a lot of family issues my dad had gone to prison and come out and he wasn't ok. He was drinking and smoking weed and whenever I saw him it was hard for us to hold a conversation without one of us getting angry with the other. This again caused me to spiral down that never ending rabbit hole. I tried my hardest to get out but I never could. I changed jobs I even moved out of my mothers house moved in with some fiends but could never shake this feeling. On another note around this time I had started talking to an old friend of mine let's call her Dani. Me and Dani used to be close we lost touch but we were getting close again becoming quite good friends. Dani had a partner that was also a good friend of mine let's call her Jackie. I grew to have feelings for Dani and they got quite strong. However knowing Dani and Jackie were together I couldn't do anything as they are good friends of mine.

Jump forward to 19 and these feelings for Dani haven't left only getting stronger. Then something happened Dani and Jackie were losing touch with each other and Dani was about to go to uni. I was at a pub with Dani and another friend we were all very drunk and the other friend had left the table. Me and Dani got to talking and one thing led to another and we were kissing and it felt amazing. The girl that I had loved for a year has finally showed me some form of affection. However I felt bad for Jackie this wasn't right knowing they were having issues I didn't think this would go well. I had asked Dani about her and Jackie and she had said they were no longer together. This was music to my ears so we carried on for the rest of the night it was great. A few days letter I found out they were still together and this was all a lie. So we carried on with our lives as it was Dani went to uni and we lost touch. A couple months later I hear that Dani has quit uni and is back at home. We start going out again and having fun being close.

Now 20 and still having feelings for Dani I carried on living life as I would. Around this time Dani had mentioned her and her sister were looking for a house mate rent was low and I lived at my mums so I thought I would take the offer. Not thinking about my feelings for her i agreed and moved in. Since that day my feelings for Dani got worse and worse. Seeing her everyday didn't help me at all. Living with her and Jackie and Dani sister was all good. But my feelings never left.

At the time I have started writing this I am 21 still feeling like I don't matter, still feeling I want to die, still feeling tomorrow could be my last and still in love with Dani. I can only hope these feelings leave me and I become that happy person I remember. I will continue to write here every time I need to.