The First Chapter..

Well, it's quite hard to know where to begin to be honest!
I’ll start with the basics.
My name is Lora. I’ve been spelling it like that for two years now.
I’m sixteen (seventeen this August).
I’m bisexual.
I’ve been self harming since September 2009; so ten months so far!

I can’t say I had a 'troubled' childhood—though it was most definitely disturbing and has come back to haunt me.
I suppose you can class me as being sexually abused, but it is not at all bad compared to other’s experiences, and is very timid! So I don’t talk about it..

I had a lot of issues with my dad's girlfriend: she used to bully me from around the age of five to about ...eleven? At a guess anyway!
I used to absolutely hate her; it got so bad that my mum was literally dragging me kicking and screaming to my dad's at the weekend.
I hated her with a PASSION. And I hated my dad when she was around.
I was upset by the bullying: distraught and petrified.
I think that’s when I began to bury my emotions.
I rarely told my mum, though she found out, and my dad and his girlfriend had to go to parent counseling sessions.

My dad did the greatest thing in the world (at the time) for me: he left her.
For all of...two months? I think it lasted..
She actually tracked me down and forced me to give her my dad's new address.
They got back together.

...
She's better now. She's nice to me.
They've been together...fourteen years?
....
But I still hate her for fucking up my head when I was so young.

I’ve realized how it affected me. If she hadn’t been around to scare me for six years, I think I would have turned out very different.
As it is, I’m now extremely paranoid. I’m terrified of mirrors, the dark, shadows, windows, anything reflective, water and drowning.
I play games in my head, such as 'if I get a text before I get to the top of the stairs, there’s someone else in the house with me'.
My routine every night now is to absolutely BOMB it up the main stairs, turn around, check the landing for "anything”, then leg it up my stairs and do the same.
Usually I add a hiss there too—which I’ve been doing for about a year now.

During 2008 and 2009, I was involved in a type of 'cult/coven'.
It depends if you believe in psychics and spirits of course, but I happen to.
There was Scot, who was kind of the 'leader' and generally most powerful because he could do so much. He believed himself to be a Crystal/Indigo child. Google them.
Shaun was schizophrenic and could kind of...'steal' other people's gifts and use them in a weaker form.
There were several others who came into the group on-and-off, but it was always us three.
I believed myself to be able to...predict futures.
I know it sounds lame if you totally don’t believe in that kind of thing, but I’ve always had flashes of information and visions come to me ever since I was young (which my mum can prove, because I used to tell her about the future apparently).

In Autumn 2009, I quit anything spiritual because it was taking over my life.
My ex-boyfriend used to patronize me a lot by telling me to predict the lottery, which is actually impossible as there’re too many outcomes to be even close to accurate, and I can only predict living things anyway!

The first time I self harmed was in September. I was in the bathroom and just had a complete crazy turn. I still had emotional scars from my ex.br /> I just did one cut on my left inner-arm with a pair of scissors, and blamed it on the doorframe when my mum asked what had caused it. I did two more cuts several days later for different reasons—mainly stress and being emotional.
Only one person noticed at college: Jee.
I'd noticed that she was a self-harmer/used to be, due to the pure mass of scars on her arms.
I'd never seen so many before, despite having friends who were self-harmers.
She wasn’t impressed (to say the least) anyway.
We weren’t really close at first because I was a little intimidated by her!
She was older than me and more mature. I felt like a little kid at times— through no fault of her own however!
In time though, we became stronger and stronger friends, which changed into best friends.

I didn't self harm again until November, when my ex broke up with me after eight months together.
That was NOT a pretty month for me at all. I used to spend all my time just sitting at the computer, listening to music, and not feeling.
I became absolutely numb to anything and couldn't figure out what I was feeling. I couldn’t even feel love for my own family and friends. I knew I loved them...but I couldn’t actually FEEL it.
I lasted a few weeks, and then just lost it one night and wrote my ex’s name on the top of my right leg. I didn't do it deep, but it was deep enough to scar and it's still clearly visible now.
I do regret writing that A LOT, as I no longer love him and have to see his name every day.

I managed to hide it from my mum for a while though.

Things kicked off with Jee and her boyfriend. I wont go into detail.
I fell in love with her in early November, while I was still with my ex.
I guess being dumped shouldn’t have hurt so much, but it brought home the reality of what I was turning into.

I was straight up until meeting Jee.
Well....I say straight..I was bi-curious I guess?
I didn't know any bisexual or lesbian girls, so I didn’t look at girls in any way other than friendship.
I did find them sexually attractive though and always have done, more so than men.

Anyway, so around February (I think), I started self harm again. All up my left arm and on my wrist in a very obvious manner.
I managed to get away with it for a few weeks before my mum finally noticed, and noticed my leg a few days after that.
She took it fairly well and we ended up hugging and having a cry. It wasn’t brought up again for a month or so.

We went on a family trip up to Liverpool and it all came spilling out. It was a good chat actually that lasted around two hours.

In the meantime, Jee's implant failed and she ended up pregnant.
Just when we'd finally worked out what was going to happen to us and her baby (Evie-May), everything crashed and failed.
She went into early labor at…nineteen weeks (I believe),
Evie lived for twenty-two minutes before passing away.
She was far too early.


Things have been going downhill since then really.
Jee has attempted suicide five times since I met her, and did the other night.
I’m worried sick about her all the time, but she seems a little better for now. I hope so.

I’ve lost track of my self-harming now. My belly is covered in little cuts (some I made to scar), and my left leg has about... fifty too. I think I counted like…two-hundred on my belly..

We've thought of a plan anyway.
A baby.
Let’s see what happens next.