the girl and her golden boy

chapter 1

Hello! I'm so sorry for the delay in posting chapter 1! Something important came up! The next chapter will be coming out Friday.

Please let me know what you think in the comments! ❤️

BEFORE YOU START READING: TW ⚠️

In this book series's there were be graphic mentions of suicide, drug addiction, sexual abuse, sexual behaviors, eating disorders, mental illnesses, cancer, heavy language, and other content that become triggering for some readers.

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c h a p t e r o n e :

"I ne v e r  k n e w  i  w a s  ad d i c t e d 
u n t i l  i  t r i ed  t o  s t o p ."

I was raped.

I was six years old.

My heart was pure and my innocence was blinding.

The man who was supposed to love me unconditionally took advantage of my naiveness and exploited it for his own satisfaction.

Some days I can't look a man in the eyes without seeing the coy, disgusting, smile my father wore as he tore apart my night gown and replaced the material with his wandering hands.

A few weeks after the incident I told my mother what father had done to me. She didn't believe me at first - she couldn't believe her saint of a husband could be a rapist.

Later that night my little sister found child pornography on my fathers computer.

He was arrested the next morning.

My mother divorced him after the truth came out. She was disgusted with herself - how could she marry such a man?

She would compare the pain he put her through with the pain he has caused me - she would claim her pain was worse and I needed to grow up - she told me that her life was so horrible and I had it easy.

She grew up in a wealthy, living family - how horrible could it be?

She doesn't care about my well-being. I remember the cold, distant stare she sent my way after she learned I was indeed telling the truth about my trauma. She didn't show any sign of pity or sympathy.

She told me that trauma builds character.

It turns out trauma also builds drug addicts.

After the death of my sister - the pain was unbearable. The day she died a piece of me died. I lost myself that day.

I turned to drugs soon after. At first it was the little things. I'd smoke with friends occasionally. Then I started drinking. Two shots shortly turned into ten shots and four bowls quickly turned into fifteen.

I turned to hardcore drugs soon after that and befriended several drug dealers.

I can't remember the last time I was sober.

When I'm under the influence I don't just escape reality - I escape the stress and the pain of being a human being. I get to experience happiness first hand as the drug guides my mind into a certain type of happiness only drugs can produce.