1 The beginning

Sometimes I hear the stories of some pretty strange friendships. Like the kinds about the most popular girl in school being best friends with the loner. I see why. Loner girl doesn't take s**t from popular girl. I kinda think that is how I got my best friend? When I was 6 years old, my life was pretty tough. I was getting bullied everyday. It was pretty bad. Beaten, bruised, bloody nose kinda bad. Ironically beating me didn't break me (if that even makes sense). I never cried in front of my bullies. My mom did her best to make them stop. I transferred schools many times and it just always ended to same way. I sometimes contemplated if something was wrong with me maybe. In the end my conclusion was something was intrinsically wrong with people. I think what really broke me was my dog. I rescued him from a local shelter. There were many dogs present but he looked terrible, clearly abused. I wasn't exactly sure what kind of breed he was, definately mixed. Probably Border Collie mixed with Sheltie and maybe Australian Shepherd? I'm not really sure and I never will be. He had stumpy legs that looked funny when he walked. When I first saw him I couldn't tell what his fur was like. He was shaved down all over exposing the many cuts, welts, bruises, and lash marks all over his body. I also remember his tortured and vibrant ice blue eyes. My mom tried to get me to look at the more energetic and cute dogs but I loved him already. He was mine. My sweet and loyal Charlie. We both knew how bad people could be. It took me awhile to get him to warm up to me. We ran everywhere. We played all the time and his favorite treat in the world was boiled eggs. He saved me from my breaking point but he also caused it when he died. It was much later in my life, not like a few months gone by sorta thing. I had him for an amazing 7 years. I was 13 when I lost him and ironically, by then I actually had friends. Not real friends tho. Just ones you casually talk to about unimportant topics to pass the time. I was always the second friend basically. It is still better than getting beaten, but when Charlie died of cancer I broke. All these old memories came flooding back. I cried in my room alone for days. I skipped school and everything. My mom didn't even try to stop me. She knew I just lost my best friend. It was in my room when I was moping around in the dark that the Devil showed up.