~Chapter 1~

Perfect... Everyone always said that about my life. Funny; they knew little to nothing about me, yet they think my life is perfect. Well, I can say right here and now that I never asked for perfect. I didn't want perfect! But you know what? It didn't matter what I wanted. No, it mattered what my mom wanted. She wanted this perfect daughter with gorgeous long blond hair, a starch white smile, and the complexion of an angel. Now, it was true that I looked pretty even without makeup. My smile wasn't bad. My hair was actually just right. But I was never good enough; my mother always had to find something wrong with me, something that she thought needed to be better. Perhaps it would be my grades, or my clothing, or what I ate. I WAS SICK OF IT!

All I wanted to be was myself...why couldn't she just accept that?

And how could she do this to me when she knew how my father treated me? That's right, my father. I loved him and hated him. He was funny, he always made me laugh. Heck, he even went so far as to do the chicken dance in Wal-Mart! Maybe he did this because he knew I'd been hurting ever since my parents got divorced. My mom remarried and had a baby girl, who she and my stepdad named Kellie. I called her Kel. My dad, on the other hand, had remained single until his first girlfriend, Sandy. I liked her daughter and son, but I hated how much she interfered with my relationship with my father. I'd always been a huge daddy's girl, and I'd probably always stay like that. Sandy started inviting him to stay overnight, even though she and my dad knew my brother, Sammy, and I were going to stay with our dad for the weekend. It wasn't until I got alot older that I understood why he chose to stay all night, making me sleep on her sofa. One day, they found out Sandy had cancer. She died from it. My dad returned to normal. I was happy. He took me and my brother rollerskating and bowling; for dinner he often took us to a Chinese or Mexican place. It was fun; I savored every minute of it. Unfortunately, I didn't realize that I was starting to take it for granted.

My father met his next girlfriend, who I still refuse to call by her first name. Instead, I call her Ms. Glenee. It was a French name, and she was an art teacher. I loved art, hated teachers, and hated art teachers. Every art teacher I'd had had been mean and they never let me express myself. I felt too restricted. I began to dislike them, and I also stopped taking art classes. It was a shame because my artwork was so good, and would've improved greatly with art lessons. That aside, my dad began spending less and less time with me. I didn't know what was going on at the time. Eventually he moved in with Ms. Glenee. My little brother was forced to sleep on the couch and I was forced to sleep in a bed that happened to be placed upstairs in either a scorching hot or freezing cold room, depending on the weather.

Oh, and did I mention that the French-named art teacher had two sons? Well she does. One of them is bipolar and they both have ADHD. Link is twelve, I think, and Carston is...ten? I don't really know; heck, I don't even care. I hate how the boys treat my dad. They're so disrespectful and they have never had any discipline. I know this because, if you can believe it, Ms. Glenee refuses to spank her children. I think they need a switch, not a spanking. They get grounded, but only for about five minutes before they say, "I'm sorry." and are let off the hook.

But now I've lost all respect for my dad. He and his girlfriend, soon to be his wife, got drunk at some club and made their way to the news. You have any idea what it's like to flip on the TV and find your father on the news? And you know those articles in the newspapers? Yeah, he was on those, too. As if I didn't already have enough crap going on in my life, he had to go and get arrested! So, yes, I think I have every right to be ticked off at him!

And you know what else? He's not responsible. He tried to lie to me when I confronted him about it, saying he was tired, not drunk, and that the reason he smelled like alcohol was because a drink had spilled in the car. He claimed the police officer was probably having a bad day and had been out to get someone, that the someone happened to be him. How does that earn respect? Seriously! Someone tell me why that's respectable!

Anyway, I'm not planning on seeing my dad anymore...for a long, long time. It hurts me not to be able to see Dad because I still love him so much, but he obviously has some things to figure out and I'm tired of getting harassed into going when he already knows I don't want to. Plus, he promised me a long time ago that he wouldn't get married to someone I didn't like. You want to know something? I've told him at least a thousand times that I don't like Ms. Glenee or her kids. You want to know something else? He insists that I'm overreacting to this whole thing and that I'll warm up to her. IT'S BEEN THREE YEARS. I just want my dad back...

I have had some good moments in my life, but the ones I remember were way far back in time, even before my parents got a divorce. I remember the time my dad took me fishing; he told me to be quiet or else I would scare all the fish away. I loved spending the time with my dad. We didn't catch anything on that fishing trip, and I don't think we ever went fishing again, though even to this day my father keeps the fishing poles he never uses. Another time was when my dad let me drive the jet-ski. It was a hilarious memory; I was so psyched about the privilege that I crushed down the gas handle. In seconds we were hopping through the water, my dad behind me screaming, "STOP, SERENA! STOP!" I just sat there laughing and wishing it would go faster. A more recent memory was that of the Lazy Donkey, a Mexican restaurant my dad used to take me to. They remodeled it and changed the name to El Camino Real. Hey, at least it was still a Mexican restaurant. They served great cheese dip, but I loved the Lazy Donkey. I cherished it because my dad would make me laugh and we would take our time eating, then we would drive home talking about how good the food was, how good the weekend had been so far, and laughing about the cats' clumsiness. I missed those times...

My mom had always been harsh. She let me have friends over, and sometimes even complimented me, but she was too hard on me. Scolding when needed is one thing; always complaining about your daughter's flaws is another. All the time it was, "Serena, you have to stop leaving ice water out all day! Serena, you haven't checked your homework assignments, have you? Serena, there's no way you can be done with work this early! Serena, this isn't how the dishwasher is supposed to be loaded; the bowls don't dry when they're like this. Serena, you know better than to put food in the microwave uncovered! Serena, she's just a baby; give the remote to her. Serena, those shorts aren't fit to wear to school." And so on and so forth. Now you can see why I'm exhausted every day. Now you know why I cry myself to sleep. Now you know why I'm always thinking about how worthless I am.

I've tried standing up to my mother before, but somehow it always comes back to something wrong with me. Now I always think of it as a deserved punishment. Everything was always my fault; I'm just waiting for my mom to say that. My stepdad, as much as I love him, agrees with everything my mom says. Many times it's even repeated right after she says it. Every time I muster up the courage to tell them how I feel, about anything, that courage flees as soon as I take one step towards them. I'm not allowed to say how I feel about their actions or words. I'm not even allowed to get a B in History! I got one out of ten questions wrong, and earned myself a ninety. That's a B. I thought I did really well, considering History is my worst subject. Mom says a B isn't good enough. She says I have to study harder, pay closer attention.

There is no expression allowed in my house. I have officially hit rock bottom. I've recently started cutting myself. I have to hide it from Mom and Dad. They'll think I have serious issues. They'll send me to therapy. I don't want to go to therapy.

"Serena! You need to stop taking so long in the shower! Your brother has to get one too, you know!" Mom yelled up the stairwell.

I sighed and waited just a little longer for the blood to stop trickling down my hand. Red had become my comfort, my solace. Blood had become the only thing keeping me sane. The dismantled razor blade had become the thing that allowed me keep myself sane. Nobody knew why I had taken apart the razor, but thankfully nobody bothered to ask. If they did, I would just say I was washing away hard water stains or rust or something of that nature. In all honesty, the razor blade was dulled anyway, so it cut better. I could nick myself more easily.

My blood bloomed in the shallow stream of water below my feet. The pain was beginning to quickly fade; I wanted to squeeze in another cut, I wanted to leave another scar, but I had to get out of the shower before my mom got on my case again. So long as I did everything just the way she wanted, I would be fine.

Well, no I wouldn't. My father played my heart strings better than a violin and my mother and stepdad had carved a puppet out of me. I didn't even know who myself was anymore. So when people say, "Just be yourself.", I have no idea what they're talking about. So at school I try to be this clumsy scatterbrain. In reality I'm not a clumsy scatterbrain, I'm just...something I guess. You couldn't really call me human anymore. I no longer knew what I was. I always just called myself a something in my thoughts.

I turned the shower off after making sure my body was cleansed of any trances of blood. There was no evidence of what I'd done, just how I wanted it. Believe it or not, I'm actually very sneaky. I can erase evidence of anything. I can creep past even a sleeping kitten. I even wore black wristbands to hide my scarred wrists. They had to be black just in case a wound decided to reopen. The dark color would hide the blood that seeped out.

I could try to call Darien...but...he doesn't love me anymore. He'd replaced me with Rini. I was nothing to him now. He'd broken up with me and was now avoiding me like a rabies-infected rat. I'd stopped trying to go after him, but he was always on my mind. I just couldn't forget that handsome smile and those gentle azure eyes. I'd even offered to get rid of the buns I kept on top of my hair. He said that wasn't it. I said I could change. He slammed the door in my face, and as he did, I saw Rini inside, munching on freshly baked cookies. My heart had shattered in that moment. Ever since then I'd really let myself go. I didn't eat as much, I was as energetic as usual, and I had started cutting in an effort to help myself heal.

I couldn't tell the girls about my secret. They were always chiding me anyway, just like my mother. It wasn't nearly as severe, but I wish that just for once, I could pretend to have a peaceful life full of tranquility and fun. But it was probably for the best that they didn't know what my life was like. Darien didn't either. I didn't want anyone to know; I'd never told a soul about it.

I dried myself off, wrapped the towel around me, and and exited the bathroom to be greeted by an irritated Sammy.

"Serena, I've been waiting out here for half an hour just to get a bath!" he complained. "Please tell me you didn't run up all the hot water again..."

Honestly, I didn't remember whether I was in a hot or cold shower. I was too engrossed in my thoughts to focus on anything. I had been too busy cutting to think about it. "Uh, there should be at least enough for a bath."

"Thank God," he mumbled. My little brother walked past me and closed the bathroom door. He didn't lock it; it was forbidden to lock any doors other than the ones connecting to the outside world. In two minutes the water could be heard splattering against the floor of the tub.

"Tsh... Baby," I murmured after him.

My communicator started to beep repeatedly, along with the lovely little spine-chilling sound of the vibrations it made. I sighed, knowing it was one of the girls. It certainly wasn't Darien, and my best guess is that it wasn't Mina. When did Mina ever call via communicator? No, her object of choice was a cell phone. The communicator was much better, in my opinion, but her preferences just didn't favor the little beeping device still in my backpack's front pocket.

By process of elimination, I came to the conclusion that it was either Rei, Amy, or Lita. It would likely be Rei or Amy. Lita didn't use the communicator as much as those two did. Well, no matter who it was, it was time to put my mask on.

I unzipped my backpack and rummaged through my textbooks and papers and other junk until I found the little thing. I pulled it out and pressed a button. A little face popped onto the screen.

"Serena, you were supposed to be at the meeting twenty minutes ago; where are you?" Yep, it was Rei. She was about to continue on about it, but stopped when she saw how I was dressed. "Is that a towel? You were taking a shower, weren't you! Augh, Serena, you knew about this meeting! You've known for a week now! Why didn't you come?"

I smiled and giggled the "normal" Serena-giggle. "Sorry, Rei. I guess I just forgot."

I heard a deep, frustrated sigh come from the speakers. "Listen, I know you've been upset about what happened with Darien, but we can't just give up being Sailor Scouts just for some boyfriend trouble. We have to-"

I shut the communicator off. I could listen to her anymore; I wouldn't hear it. This wasn't boyfriend trouble anymore. This was a real break-up. Darien had dumped me and accepted Rini in my place. Rei knew nothing of how a truly felt bout this; I only told her half of what happened. I hadn't told her about him slamming the door in my face, refusing to let me talk any longer. I hadn't told her about how I'd offered to change for him, and how he'd vehemently denied it.

It started beeping and vibrating again after a few seconds, but I ignored it for two reasons. One was because I just couldn't stand to hear Rei bluster on about my relationship with Darien. The other was because I felt something strange, a liquid of some sort, slowly making its way down my hand. I restrained myself from cursing when I looked down to see that at some point my newest cut had reopened and was now staining the towel. I could excuse the towel as having accidentally nicked myself with the razor while shaving my legs, but I had to get to my room quick to bandage up my wrist.

As I ran to my room, I thought about how my wrist looked like it had been crying red tears. It kind of had been. I had built up a stone-cold wall around my heart when the divorce took place. And when everything else started to fall apart, that wall just kept getting stronger and more durable. Countless times I'd tried to take it down by willpower alone; it wasn't enough. When I said I cried myself to sleep every night, I wasn't lying; I do cry, but inwardly. I've tried many times to force myself to cry, all in vain. For some reason, I could only do it when I felt the need to act like a klutz in front of my friends.

When I was alone, though, when I just wanted to scream and let it all out, I couldn't utter a sound, let alone a tear. Now I was some kind of detached freak who wasn't that good around people. I wish I could be perfect, I wish I could be what my mother wanted. But I can't because I simply don't want to change. I like being a tomboy, even though in public I act like a real preppy. My mom doesn't want a tomboy; she wants a sophisticated, well-mannered princess.

Oh, the irony of that... Mom wanted a princess, right? Little did she know she already had one. But it was fine with me if she never figured out my identity as both the Moon Princess and Sailor Moon.

Ugh, snap out of it! Your wrist is starting to bleed again! a little voice in my head shouted at me.

I pushed aside various stuffed animals until I dug out my medical supplies, which I'd found long ago in our medicine cabinet. We never used them, so now I keep them on top of my closet shelf, hidden behind a variety of teddy bears and horses and dogs and cats and bunnies and I think there was a bird in there somewhere. I even had a giant lizard that my mom wanted me to throw out. I refused to do so. It had been with me for a very large portion of my life. I used to play with it all the time, which is why it had small holes in it. I'd developed a close attachment to it because it had strengthened my imagination and had been by my side this whole time. Weird; I still hadn't named the thing.

I hissed as I felt a stinging sensation in my wrist. I looked down to find a red smear on one of my smaller teddy bears. The teddy bear was purple, so the colors didn't contrast very much. The red that now covered the bear's clawed foot wasn't too noticeable. Still, I would have to wet a paper towel and get as much off as I could. Toy companies really should try out the concept of toys that were machine washable.

After the sting had passed, I released my bleeding wrist from my hand and snatched up the gauze and a single cottonball. I ripped the cottonball in half and placed it over my injury. It hurt and made me gasp. I took the roll of gauze and wrapped it around my wrist, just enough so that when I put on my wristbands it wouldn't show.

Afterward I put them back and rearranged my stuffed animals to make it look almost like I hadn't even touched them. Usually my wrists didn't bleed like that. I needed to be more careful; maybe I should start doing this at a friend's house rather than at my own home, where the chances of my mother and stepdad finding out were much greater. However...if I did it at a friend's house, they would be more likely to find out. Darn it...

I slipped on my wristbands and flopped into bed, not without replacing the bath towel with my pajamas first. I quickly fell asleep from exhaustion, leaving the conscious world with visualizations of myself being beaten up, or made fun of, or rejected; thoughts of Darien breaking up with me and then laughing about it with Rini; memories of the good times my family shared before everything had gone downhill. Soon my breathing became even and regular, and my thoughts went blank.

A/N

So, yeah, that was the first chapter. Let me know what you thought about it, okay? Also, this is definitely a partial AU, so no flames concerning how off something is. Actually, no flames at all. That includes continuous criticism.