A Sinful Saint (Slow Updates)

Preview

Staring at the plain,boring white wall has become a daily source of entertainment for the past 7 years of being in this hell hole otherwise known as the St'Charles Lunatic Asylum were if been kept imprisoned

As you might have wondered what is a 17 year old doing in a insane asylum,well it all started when my egg donor aka my mother got married to Greg aka my stepfather.

So to start out before all that me and Jane(the mother) were really close, we did everything together,she was my only best friend I had ever had.For some reason we travelled alot,we never stayed in one place long enough for me to make friends

Whenever we would pack for the the next city or country she would always look frantic and whisper "He can't find us" while looking guilty as fuck.

I always wondered who "He" was. Me being an oblivious 5 year old at that time didn't think much of it just continuing to be my innocent self playing with my toys as she frantically packed our bags for the next destination.

A month before my sixth birthday my mother and I have already been settling in,in a very small 2 room apartment.

She somehow found a job as a bartender so she could pay the bills and for me to go to school. She usually worked a nightshift so when she would leave for work I was already asleep,and would come back early in the morning

I remembered how I would be awake looking out of my bedroom door to see her exaustedlly shuffle her way to bed and how I would always come a few minutes after to join her while she would cuddle me into her warm embrace. But then everything changed...

She would bring home random strange men and they would stay over till the morning

The first time she brought a stranger home I remembered how I did my usual peeping out my bedroom door waiting for her when I saw her seductively pulling this creepy looking man into her bedroom.Now my 5 (almost 6) year old brein was like maybe she just needed some cuddles. Oh how wrong I was when I heard all the ratchet noises coming from her room. Now again my 5 (almost 6) year old brein was like maybe their probably wrestling or playfighting. Yet again how wrong I was to assume these things.

Over time it got worse, she quit her job as a bartender and basically became a prostitute, she started selling her body for money to buy drugs. It started off small, from weed to cocaine to other stronger drugs.

She basically neglected me.

She would leave a few dollars for me to buy food take care of myself but that didn't help with the fact that she was basically ruining her life.

I remembered one day I had just came from school (such a shocker since we could barely afford anything) I heard her screaming and crying. Running up to her room she was on the floor in tears apperantly one of her fuck buddies did alot of damage. I was the one to comfert her and be there for her even if she wasn't really there for me.

The day after her her little break down some people came knocking at our door looking for her.

This is were Greg comes in, he was a cop working for the FBI. Apparently Jane had bought illegal drugs from the wrong people and somehow something got linked to her after an anonymous tip came in saying that she was involved. How? I have no idea.

Anyway the day after my sixth birthday she was set free after only a few weeks in prison. I didn't really celebrate my birthday cause of what had happened.

After she got out Greg apparently helped her get into rehab to change and become sober.

Which she did, after months she got released. She became the mother I had always known.

I finally had my best friend back.

She and Greg got closer and afterwards got married.

At first everything was amazing, my mother and I went back to being our mother-daughter-duo and Greg and I had also gotten closer. He became the father I never had.

But that all went down the fucking drain when Jane had gotten into an accident on her way from the grocery store.

A month after her funeral Greg started to use alcohol as a coping method ( and apparently me as his personal punching bag).

He blamed me for her death (as if I was the one who told the fucking truck driver to  crash into her yeah right).

He started to get aggressive the more time went on beating me up so bad that it left me to feel like I had no chance of making it to the age of seven.

On the oh so long and happily awaited day of my seventh birthday (note the obvious sarcasm) it all happened so quickly.

I remembered it was 7:30 and that Greg was knocked out on the floor of the living room with empty beer bottles and broken glass scattered on the floor. The room was dark and the TV was the only source of light.

I had come downstairs quietly trying to sneak to the kitchen for some water so I could drink so pain meds, barely able to hold myself up after the beating I had gotten earlier that day.

As I was quitly sneaking to the kitchen I had accidently kicked a beer bottle that was on the floor, when I heard a groan coming from the living room.

The beast has been awoken (I just had to sorry 😂).

"Were do you think your going brat?" He asked,his words slurred.

"I- I was j-just going t-to get s-some water" I said while trying not to make eye contact since that triggers him for some reason.

In a flash I was on the ground screaming in pain while holding on to my already broken ribs as he was kicking me. Every blow adding bruises to my already bruised pale caramel skin.

Suddenly as if something in me had snapped,my vision became blurry.

Next thing I know I'm being escorted out of the house by too buff male nurses with blood on my hands and clothes.

Welp that's it folks hope you enjoyed that please like comment you know the rest

Adios amigos/amigas (for now)