Martha sat there in her room her head barred in her hands, sobbing. Why had he done that? WHY!? She flung herself down on the bed, pounding her fists against her pillow. Why had James done that, he had said loved me! But after she had told him everything about herself..... She looked up at her dresser, there was large bottle of sleeping pills there, she stood and walked over to it, picking it up and looking down into mirror that was part of the dresser. Out in the living room she could hear her little brother watching Mister Rogers Neighborhood, and that song she had always loved when she was little:
It's you I like, It's not the things you wear, It's not the way you do your hair-- But it's you I like The way you are right now, The way down deep inside you-- Not the things that hide you, Not your toys-- They're just beside you.
Things used to seem that simple when she was little, that song had made so much sense then, but then she grew up and realized that people only really did love for your "toys" or in her case her "toy" was her body.
Ever since she was 11 boys had always been after her body, starting with her father... nothing major mind you, he would just always comment on it, or touch her, nothing truly sexual, but covertly,y rubbing against her, brushing her breasts. Over the next few years guys grown more bold, her first time hadn't been special at all, a little bit tips, and Fred had just taken her, she had cried but only a little, but she knew that it had been her fault for going to the party anyways. She opened the bottle and looked down it, there was over half the bottle left good. She put it down and walked out into the kitchen, she reached up into the top cabinet find her mother's bottle of vodka. She glanced at the tv real quick as she went back into her room:
But it's you I like-- Every part of you, Your skin, your eyes, your feelings Whether old or new. I hope that you'll remember Even when you're feeling blue That it's you I like, It's you yourself, It's you, it's you I like.
Martha went back into her room and grabbed the bottle of sleeping pills, she say down on her bed, and pulled out cap on the vodka bottle. She shook a large handful of the yellow and red pills into her hand and threw them back, then took a swig. The mixture burned its way down her throat, her hands shaking she poured out more of the pills, placing them in her mouth, more vodka, more burning. She gripped her stomach as she lay back on the bed, she hadn't realized it was going to hurt quite like this... but at least soon that pain, and the rest of the pain would be over.
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