"I Matter."

Daniel Beck. That's my name. But I hate 'Daniel' so I go by Danny. While I sit in front a burley, tattooed man holding the tattoo needle to the skin of my forearm, tracing out the letters of her name, I can still remember the first day I met her. The first time she hugged me. Kissed me. I could remember it all.

We're both the same age, she being a few months older. She used to tease me about it all the time when we were younger. My mother abandoned me and my father when I was only thirteen. She left a note that simply stated she needed time to herself. My dad became genuinely depressed and took a liking to alcohol. His sadness soon turned to hate. And he took that hatred out on me. I became his personal punching bag, which in return, made me hate my mother too.

He took me out of school and moved a few towns over. I thought I would be going back to school, but my dad said I would be "home schooled" instead. Which was his way of making sure no one saw the bruises he left on me.

I was fortunate enough to meet a friend in the small town without really associating with kids my age. We met at the convenience store, and it turned out his house was two houses down from mine. He turned into a very good friend that I could really talk to and depend on. His name was Ephram. He was the same age me, and he'd moved to town around six months ago from Colorado. He swore he wouldn't tell anyone about my situation.

One night, my dad came home in a foul mood. I wasn't sure what he was so mad about. He knocked me around a few times and started on the liquor. He finally passed out in his recliner, and I took the opportunity to sneak out to go to Ephram's house, as I always did. But he was on his way to his girlfriend's house and said I could come along with him to meet her.

We crawled through her bedroom window, and I saw her. She was beautiful. Long, shiny brown hair, bright hazel green eyes, with a perfect smile. She was short and petite and gave off a comforting vibe. Her name was Veronica Rose Summers.

When Ephram told me not to get mad, I instantly knew why. He told her about my dad. I was mad and started to climb right back out the window.

But her sweet voice stopped me. "Wait. Don't leave." She gently put her hand on my shoulder. "Stay. I won't tell anyone, I promise. You can trust me." And suddenly, I trusted her. She just had something about her.

Ephram stayed the night there often. He snuck into her room without her parents knowing. She was a good girl, and her parents trusted her. And all she and Ephram did was sleep. They never fooled around. She told me I could stay and sleep on the floor if I wanted. So, I did. But I never slept well. Afraid my dad might wake up, look in my room, and see I'm not there and go looking for me. She only lived a block down.

Veronica and I became good friends. It was easy to talk to her. She always listened and actually cared. I didn't open up much, even though she tried. That Christmas, Ephram left with his parents to visit family in New York. They were gone through the Christmas and New Year holiday. While he was there, he cheated on her, sleeping with an old friend he knew there. Veronica found out about it after he returned home, and they broke up.

Somehow, he managed to get her to forgive him, and they got back together. She had been devastated, and like she was for me, I was there for her. Someone to express her feelings to. A shoulder to cry on. I hated that she was hurting. She was too sweet to be broken.

A few months later, Ephram's parents announced they would be moving back to their hometown in Colorado. He told Veronica he wanted to stay together, and she agreed. With Ephram gone, she still let me sleep at her house when I needed to in my usual spot in the floor at the foot of the bed. I hated not having my best friend around, but Veronica made up for it.

Shortly after moving away, a letter came in the mail for Veronica from Ephram after he'd ghosted her for a few days. The letter was telling her he didn't want to be in a long-distance relationship anymore, and that it just wasn't going to work out. Afterwards, he wouldn't answer any calls from me or Veronica. I called him a coward for breaking up with Veronica that way. He should have called her. Not sent a stupid letter.

She was depressed for a while, but I helped make her smile. I told her he wasn't worth her tears.

That summer, Veronica and her parents were going on vacation to the coast. They would be gone for almost three weeks. She invited me to come along. She said she needed her best friend there, but I think it was more that she didn't want to leave me solely at the hands of my father. We told her parents my dad gave me permission to go, even though he didn't. He would have definitely said no if I had asked. And I knew I would have a harsh punishment for going anyway without asking.

But I was falling for Veronica, so I took my chances. I decided it was best to at least call my dad when we got there. He stayed calm over the phone, in case anyone could hear him. I could hear the threatening tone in his voice when he said, "I hope you have fun."

The days at the beach with her were the best days of my life. One night we were sitting on the beach, listening to the sound of the waves, and staring up at the endless stars stretched across the ocean in the horizon. We were talking about everything and anything. I don't know how I did it, but she always laughed and smiled with me. The whole trip I'd wanted to kiss her. But I was too big of a chicken.

"Danny," she whispered.

"Hmm?" I looked over at her. She leaned in and pressed her soft lips to mine. That was the night we started dating.

I was right about the punishment that my dad had in store for me when I got home. It was one of the worst beatings of my life. But it was worth it. Veronica cried when she saw me and begged for me to tell someone. I was too scared of my dad, afraid he would kill me if he found out I told someone. But that wasn't the main reason anymore. What I was most afraid of was having to go into foster care and move away from Veronica, because I was underage. Not wanting to, she respected my wishes.

I was sixteen, almost seventeen when my mother returned out of the blue with a fiancé. After three years of being MIA, she let herself into our house without even knocking. Doing so, she witnessed my dad wrap his hand around my throat, shove me into the wall, and back hand me in the face. I froze and stared at her from the floor where I lost balance and landed. Dad stared at her too. She was yelling at my dad as she made her way over to me. She grabbed my arm to help me up and started to drag me with her out the door. I jerked my arm from her light grip. I hated her so much that I'd rather stay with my father than go anywhere with her. When she finally realized the both of us had completely turned our back on her, she left.

The next day, she returned with a police officer and a social worker. My dad was taken into custody, and I was forced to stay with my mother. I lied to the officers, telling them the marks on my neck were from a friend and I wrestling. My dad ended up getting jail time, and my mother was granted full custody of me. She put me back in school, and I was able to spend almost all day with Veronica. Mom and her fiancé, who I didn't get along with, had strict rules. I couldn't sneak out and spend nights with her like usual. I hated living there, and she knew it.

So as soon as I turned seventeen, Veronica was able to talk her parents into letting me move in with them. They knew all about my mom and dad. Everyone did. Mom wasn't happy about me moving in with my girlfriend, but I was. We had grown closer than I ever thought possible. We were even each other's "first".

When my dad got out of jail, he went back to his house down the road. I had visited him a lot in jail. Things were different between the two of us. It was like when he realized I took his side over my mom's, we had an understanding. He never laid a hand on me again, and we got along from then on.

Thanksgiving that year, I was with Veronica at her aunt's house when I got the devastating call about my father. He was at work and collapsed. By the time they got him to the hospital, he'd already died. They said he had a heart attack. Everyone knew how my father had treated me, so they didn't understand why I cried for him at his funeral. Veronica stayed with me until they started shoveling dirt onto his casket, because she understood how I felt. My dad hadn't always been abusive. That started when my mom bailed on us, so before that, we had many good memories. And when he had gotten out of jail, he had apologized for everything.

After graduation, I got a job at a local restaurant, because I wasn't going to college. I didn't have the money or the brains for it. When my dad passed, I inherited his house and truck. After working in the kitchen of the restaurant for about three months, a new waitress was hired. She was pretty. The kind of girl who always made sure her makeup was perfect, not a hair out of place, and a nice figure. Her name was Angela, and she had a very flirty personality.

One night, Veronica and I had a huge fight. Thinking back, it was so stupid. But I was upset, and Angela was around. After work, I stooped to the lowest of the low and slept with Angela. I was thinking with the wrong head, and I felt terrible and overwhelmed with guilt. I couldn't stand keeping such a secret from her. She deserved to know I wasn't the perfect boyfriend that she thought I was.

After a few weeks, I finally got the guts to confess to her. The hurt on her face was almost unbearable. And to know I was the cause of it killed me. She rightfully broke up with me, and I didn't blame her. I'm an idiot, and I'll never forgive myself for it.

She hated me, but I couldn't stay away from her. She was the love of my life. For some unknown reason, she let me back into her heart. Maybe I wasn't the only idiot... But I gladly accepted. I could never express how grateful I was for that second chance.

Things were going good for us. Angela had quit at the restaurant. If she hadn't, I would have been the one to quit. Veronica would have been too uncomfortable with me working with her. Unfortunately, though, about two months later, Angela returned to the restaurant and proceeded to tell me in front of the whole staff that she was pregnant. And it was mine.

I didn't know what I was going to tell Veronica. Wasn't it bad enough that I cheated on her? Now I had to tell her that the woman I cheated on her with was pregnant? I knew the news would crush her. She craved to be a mother so badly, and we had even gone through the experience of her miscarrying a baby. And to know I would be having a child with someone else would shatter her.

And I was right. She was outraged and consumed with more heartache. So, we broke up once again. But she loved me too much. She said she could handle it, and we got back together.

Like I said earlier, I'm an idiot. I don't understand my brain's thought process sometimes. When Angela was seven months pregnant, I made a dumb decision. I thought it would be better for the baby if I was around and with Angela. I tried explaining myself to Veronica, but she wasn't having it. She simply told me she hoped that's what I really wanted, because we were done for good. She just couldn't do it anymore, and there was no coming back.

I broke down and bawled like a baby that night. My life had gotten so messed up because of one stupid decision I made that continued to spread like wildfire. I was so unhappy with Angela. She had an ugly soul, nothing like my Veronica. She was self-centered and conceited. I knew Veronica was my soulmate no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise.

But I loved that little girl Angela gave birth to. She was so sweet and precious. In my life, however, all good things seem to come to an end. Angela found of box of stuff I kept that was from Veronica. Letters, cards, pictures, that kind of stuff. She knew I didn't love her, and my heart belonged to Veronica. She got angry at her findings and kicked me out. She told me my precious little girl wasn't mine.

I didn't believe her. She was mad at me so of course I pushed for a DNA test. Sadly, I was not biologically her father. I still miss the moments I had with her during that short amount of time.

Not knowing what to do anymore, I tried to talk to Veronica. She'd done a good job of staying away from me. I wanted to tell her how much of an idiot I was and how much I still loved her. But she was with someone else. When I heard the news, I grew frighteningly jealous. The thought of her in someone else's arms shook me in a way I never felt before.

I went to her house to try to talk to her, and he was there. I didn't know who he was, but he got in my face when Veronica told me to leave, and I didn't. He shoved me backwards, and I don't know what came over me. I punched him so hard, he fell to the ground. He didn't stay down long, and then he was coming at me. Veronica ran to us, trying to wedge in the middle to get us to stop fighting. She got too close, and I accidently elbowed her in the face. I felt so much remorse, you wouldn't know, especially when her nose started to bleed. I tried to apologize and help her, but she just screamed in my face to leave.

As I drove away, I realized how much she must truly hate me for everything I'd put her through. After that night, my depression deepened. I became friends with the wrong people, started drinking, and popping pills. It was all a temporary band aid for the pain I felt in my heart. I didn't work. I didn't do much of anything. My utilities got cut off at my house, so my mom talked me into staying at her house. She knew I was spiraling downhill fast and tried to fix me. But I didn't want to be fixed. I didn't deserve to be happy.

One night was more depressing than the rest. All I ever did was think about Veronica. It was the anniversary of when we got together. Of our first kiss. A day we'd always spent together until I screwed everything up. I wondered if she was thinking about me on our day. We always ended the night with a simple kiss. But she was kissing someone else now.

I pulled into my mom's driveway, coming back from a friend's house. I was drunk and high. Definitely shouldn't have been driving anywhere. I pulled Veronica's picture I kept in my wallet out and stared at it. Tears threatened to fall from my eyes. The pain was too much. I couldn't handle it anymore.

I pulled out my pocketknife from my pants pocket. I kept it so sharp, it could cut smoothly through a sheet of paper with no resistance. I wanted to leave this world and do it looking at the most beautiful person I'd ever laid my eyes on. I pressed the knife to my skin and felt the warmth flow down.

When I woke up, I wasn't in Hell where I expected to be. I could hear the faint sound of a beeping noise, and the smell of antiseptic. I glanced around and realized I was lying in a hospital bed with large bandages on my wrists. I saw the girl sitting next to the bed with her head resting by my arm. I reached out and touched her hair, and she looked up at me with the most breath taking hazel green eyes. But they were filled with tears, her cheeks wet, and a worried look was settled on her face.

Suddenly, she was angry. "Why did you do that? Why would you try to kill yourself?" Her voice was laced with hurt, and I didn't know what to say to her. I never thought it would affect her this much. All I could say was, "I'm sorry." I grabbed her hand in mine, and she stood up, taking me into a hug. It was the best thing I could ask for.

When I got out of the hospital, I had to check into a rehab center. Veronica visited me every visitation. I still couldn't get over how much I had hurt her. I tried every day to do my best and get better. It wasn't easy, but I managed.

So, here I am. Twenty-three years old now, getting inked by a burley tattooed man that I would never want to meet in a dark alley. Veronica's name is stretched across my forearm with a red rose underneath as a constant reminder of how precious my life is. A reminder that even at my worst, and I think my life doesn't matter, it does. It matters to others.

I matter.