last post in my week of the arrested :(

Update: So I have not posted in about a week. My ex violated the protection order and got arrested on thanksgiving. he got out on a pr bond the next day.

his mom Facebook messaged me. called me evil and possessed by the devil. and a lot of other shit.

i stayed in a domestic violence shelter for s few days, but i felt really guilty and I left. then started sleeping in my car.

last night i got assaulted again. my school is trying to get me to talk to the cops again, but i wont. they know who did it, but i refuse to tell them, so since they dont know for certain, they cannot report it.

im just really fucking done with all this. i took of and drove 4 hours in the middle of the night and stood in line for s bus ticket to Atlanta. im just so done and i dont want to do this anymore.

Also, i now have developed a pill problem. i used to be able to control it. but now, like my drinking, it is out of hand

I have a billion messages so bear with me as I respond.

—  (via story-of-a-sad-teen)

listen if you’re afraid of people with intermitten explosive disorder just think how scary is must be to be the person who HAS IT

IEDs have to constantly worry if they’re going to hurt someone they love or if they’re going to break something important to them or if they’re going to end up getting into a fight and getting arrested or what any number of other very scary consequences they could face for acting out

it’s scary to be around someone who is out of control but it’s more terrifying to be the one who is out of control

dont reblog unless u were professionally diagnosed

Edge of Everything (22)

I hate cliffhangers as much as you. So I worked fast to get this one to you. I hope you like the story. It’s coming to an end here soon (I’ve figured out the ending just have to write it) Don’t worry I think you’ll all enjoy it =)

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The ring was beautiful, it sparkled in the harsh lights of the hospital. The light cracked and splintered against the wall as I twisted my hand. It was a diamond cut ruby, surrounded by more diamonds. It was vintage, the band twisted into a beautiful display of braids. It fit perfectly on my finger and I knew Cassian had searched long and hard to find something like this. This wasn’t man made. This ring had a story, a life before mine.

Even when I thought he hadn’t, he had been listening to me. I used to tell him stories about black and white movies, about the things I loved and hated. I used to tell him about my mother’s ring, the one my father had given to her from his grandmother. I told him that meant more than a diamond. A ring with a story, a ring that was passed down between generations was even more special than the others. Because it was the symbol of a love that created that line.

Cassian had been listening. He had been taking notes. I still didn’t deserve him, but I made a promise sitting there in the hospital. I would never stop trying to be worthy of a male as patient and kind as my best friend.

Once the pain would less, the guilt set in. If I had only put him in jail he first time. If I had tried harder to keep him away. Once again my stupid pride, my stubbornness was the reason why this had all happened. I had been right when I told Azriel I didn’t deserve to be happy. And Cassian didn’t deserve to get hurt for loving me.

I wiped away a tear, staring at the doors waiting for someone to come out. I leaned my elbows on my knees, the nervous tick of it bouncing didn’t bother me. I kept staring, willing someone to find me and give me information about his condition. But no one came to tell me anything. No nurses, not doctors came to reassure me that my best friend, the man I thought I’d call my husband, would be okay.

I looked down at my shaking hands and saw his blood. They were still covered, it was drying even over my ring. Cassian’s blood. The blood I tried to stop from flowing out of him while he bled in the middle of the yard. After he asked me to marry him. After Tomas shot him.

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