I know that in the beginning, you will like it's a shitty story, but please trust me it gets more exciting and better throughout.
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Hello, my name is Fleurie, I am eighteen years old, and I live an awful life. Life was good for me until that storm came, the storm that smashed up my life.
It was difficult to watch my mother slowly fade away as she battled breast cancer, I watched her struggle with the disease, and it was hard to believe she wasn't going to make it. It was only a matter of time before that monster won.
The experience left me with many unresolved issues, as well as a sense of regret that I could have done more, that I could have done something; at the very least, I could have said goodbye.
I Remember.
In my memory, I remember her sitting at the piano, fingers tapping rhythmically, patiently listening to her students' rattles.
Her love of the sea is something I remember.
Sunflowers were her favourite flower, and I remember her love of them.
In the years before my mom died, and before the monster attacked her, I was very close to my father, who was my hero, my first date, and my best friend. However, when my mom died, all that came crashing down.
During my eighth year, I was overwhelmed with fear and anxiety, as a result of him emotionally abusing, physically abusing, and sexually abusing me.
It is impossible for me to remember what it is like not to cry after all my scars and bruises.
During the past few years, he has hit me, kicked me in the stomach, punched me, called me names, and blamed me for things I did not do. He started with just slapping; one time he said we had no eggs so I made two eggs, but he hit me until blood stained the floor, I kept begging him to stop, but he wouldn't listen. I told him we didn't have any eggs.
He didn't come to a screeching halt.
He was having some fun when he raped me.
My own father assaulted me and called me slurs like "bitch," "whore," "slut," and everything else that came to mind.
It didn't end with my father at home, People at my school bullied me.
When he struck me till I blacked out, I stopped talking and remained silent. Bullying has increased.
Everything that occurred to me was kept a secret.
Because he threatened to kill anyone and everyone who discovered the torture and other horrific things he did to me.
He did it once. I'm sure he'll do it again and again if given a chance. He is a monster who will never stop being a monster.
I couldn't even do anything to stop it from happening. I was a naïve little kid with no one in this world.
There are no other family members to seek protection from, and no friends to shout and gripe to.
My own brother abandoned me in this awful household, with no safety from the monster who lived there.
My family had turned on me.
The entire world had betrayed me.
I betrayed myself.
I can't even have trust in myself.
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How Was It?
When did you Start This Story?
Word Count: 493 Words
Fleurie's point of view: "GET DOWN AND MAKE MY BREAKFAST, YOU WHORE!" I don't think that's how most people wake up. The scumbag here is dumping hot water on you as my flesh is peeling off my body. My alarm may have broken, and guess who broke it, CORRECT, the scumbag who calls himself a father. This scumbag here wouldn't allow me to call him dad, but he did want me to address him as "sir" when he first started, and he didn't stop until I quit talking. I did not have a really pleasant or enjoyable childhood or youth. I get up so quickly that the ache spreads throughout my entire body. I went to the bathroom, peeled off my wet clothing along with my peeled skin, and sat in the warm water. My muscles began to relax. I'm using my eucalyptus mint shower gel to wash my body and my peeling skin. I took a step outside, brushing the steam off the mirror. Blue bruises beneath my eyes, wounds on my nose and under my chin, and bruises and cuts all over my arms. Dark dirty blonde hair that
Fleurie's point of view: I take a deep breath and hold one of my thin hands to my chest, soothing my heartbeat. I cautiously pushed the classroom door open. My gaze was drawn to penetrating dark brown eyes. He was smiling at me, and he was wearing a white shirt with his toned abs visible through it. I can't take my gaze away from his eyes as they evoke so many unknown emotions in me. They are breathtaking. Unlike mine, his dark hair appears silky, smooth, and healthy. My heart is racing as though I've been running for eternity. When someone cleared his throat, I jolted out of my daze. The teacher had brown hair, glasses that dangle on the tip of his nose, and blue eyes; he grinned and questioned. "You must be a new student, correct? Fleurie?" I confirmed with a nod. "My name is Mr Helton," he replied with a phoney smile. " The seat beside Marisa is empty, can you raise your hand?" He said as a pretty girl with blonde hair and blue eyes smiled at me as she extended her hand. The
Graysen's point of view: I kept hitting my head against the wooden desk. I'm frustrated since I can't seem to find my mate. Perhaps she was a Dinosaur that went extinct ages ago. My beta found his mate, my friends found theirs, and even my dumb little sister got hers; she isn't here since she moved to England with him because he is the Moonstone pack beta. "Dude, you'll slit your skull before you even find your mate," Bryce, my lifelong Bestfriend said, who also found his mate during MY sixteenth birthday party. "see, maybe some horrible dummy monster is keeping her from me, or maybe she isn't born, and if she isn't, she will reject me because I am an old guy wi-"I voiced my concerns. "She's somewhere out there, someplace in this world, waiting for her handsome prince, now move your buttocks, we've got school." "I'm your Al-" I started but he interrupted. "Sure, yeah, you're my Alpha" I am the Bloodlust pack's alpha. After I became eighteen, my father bestowed the title upon m
Fleurie's point of view: My brother Ryan and I were quite close. When we were kids and mum was still around, we used to do everything together, from bathing with our ducks to getting each other in trouble and being mischievous. He was with me every second of my life until I was eight years old when everything changed: my mother left, my father arrived became a violent scumbag, and my brother fled. When he fled, he left me a letter. He said that he couldn't handle it any longer, from the violence of my father and the death of our mother and that he was going to ask for help and come back for me. He never came back. Just like my mother. I simply wanted to know whether he ever thought about me. Why did he leave when he knew the scumbag was violent? Was he ever considerate about the torture I would receive? or was everything a sham? Was I a mistake, as this scumbag claimed? Was it entirely my fault? What did I do to earn it? I hurried out of school like there was no tomorrow. I was
Graysen's point of view:For the remainder of the day, I didn't see Fleurie. In the school, her scent was faint. When I first saw her scarred and bruised face, I was filled with rage. I smelled a male's scent on her; perhaps that man did it all to her. Is he her boyfriend? Is it her brother? Is it a member of her family? Her father or mother? I had been thinking about her all day. I couldn't come up with anything else to think about or work on. I'm here at my office, working on some pack business. I sigh and look out the ceiling-to-floor window. A lot of pups were out playing with their friends and some parents were watching their kids in wolf form. I can hear footsteps and Someone began knocking on the door a few moments later. "Come in," the door opened, and my beta Martin entered; I had sent him earlier to get information about Fleurie. "Alpha, I brought the information you requested," he continued with a respectful tone obvious in his voice, holding out a thin yellow file
Fleurie's point of view: I suppose I tried pretty hard to fight back the first two or three times the scumbag hit me. But I gradually realized that when you try to physically defend yourself against a man who is bigger, rougher, and stronger than you, you wind up inflicting more harm to yourself than to him. Not only would I be damaged from the blows that scumbag inflicted on me, but also from my own attempts to defend myself. I eventually learnt how to crouch away in a safe manner. Retaliation was no longer a possibility. and I did this yesterday, the day before, and the year before that. I cooked for him this morning, but I didn't get any food today as well. There was pushing and shoving and throwing stuff at me at my previous school, and there was one of the students that were squirted squirting me with ketchup and had Skittles candy thrown at me in the cafeteria. I wish I had never lived a life where I fought with my body, leaving behind persistent scars that will never go awa
Fleurie's point of view: "Hey Flow," A soft familiar voice called. I groaned as I got up from the grassy grounds. " Who is there?" I asked as if haven't been mute for half of my life. " Flow," The voice giggled and called again. " Who is there?" I asked eagerly wanting to know who it was and from where is it calling. " I'm here baby," The voice said from behind me and lightly chuckled. I abruptly looked behind me. There she was standing behind me. Her dark brown eyes and hazel eyes. My mother stood there, looking at me with a smile mounting her face. " Mommy?" With a choked sob, I called. " Yeah baby, it's me," She smiled warmly. I leapt toward her and pulled her in a crushing hug. "I miss you, Mommy, I miss you so much," I continued saying as I wailed. Suddenly, everything stopped. No wind moved the trees and no warmth came from the body I am hugging. It all turned black and I fell deep. As I came out of the blackness and slowly opened my eyes, blinking at the blindin
Fleurie's point of view: Doctor Brittany informed me that I had been unconscious for almost seven days. She informed me that I had four fractured ribs, which thankfully did not pierce my lungs. I'm hoping it did. I have nine stitches across my brow and another four on my jaw. She informed me that she had treated both old and fresh injuries on my body. She predicted that my jaw and forehead would scar. Doctor Brittany is a nice woman, and Victoria, the woman who was sitting next to me when I awoke, is Graysen's mother. I can see the anxiety in her eyes as she softly and caringly attended to me. I'm not used to receiving so much love and attention. It's strange. I'm still perplexed as to who brought me here. And I was more concerned about who would pay for the hospital because I had no money. I felt helpless and cumbersome, and I'm afraid of what would happen if I fell asleep. He could return to me, I know he will, and he will surely take me to finish what he was doing. Everyt