#1st Book in 'Tangled Series.'
Revenge and Love, I was tangled between both of these. Once I loved but that love took everything from me, it destroyed me inside out. At that time, Revenge was my only hope. I decided Vengeance would be my endgame. I...
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2 months ago
D h r i t i
A shrill beep, insistent and jarring, pierced the quiet of my room. My eyes fluttered open, the alarm clock on my nightstand blinking accusingly. Groaning, I reached out a hand and silenced the insistent sound, its harshness replaced by a blessed silence. I stretched, feeling the stiffness of sleep leave my limbs, and swung my legs over the side of the bed. The cool morning air sent shivers down my spine as I stood up, my bare feet padding across the wooden floorboards. I made my way to the balcony, the sliding glass doors seeming to hum with the promise of the day. With a gentle push, the doors slid open with a whisper, letting in the fresh scent of morning dew and the distant chirping of birds. Leaning on the railing, I took a deep breath, the cool air filling my lungs. The world outside was bathed in the soft, golden light of the rising sun, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange.
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I sink into the worn cushions of the couch on my balcony, the new year dawning with the same familiar warmth of the rising sun. For others, it's a time of fresh starts, brimming with hope. But for me, the sun feels like a cruel reminder of the darkness that has settled within. These sun rays, so full of life and promise, can never reach the shadows that cling to me. Seven years. Seven years of carrying the weight of an unspoken burden, of navigating life's twists and turns alone.
Seven years that have transformed me from a girl lost in the chaos of uncertainty to a woman hardened by experience, forced to handle every storm on my own. My friends, my brother - they are my anchor in the raging sea. My phone buzzes with messages, the familiar greetings of 'Happy New Year' from those who were once my family. But the word rings hollow, a twisted mockery of what it once meant.
They are bound by blood, yes, but the connection that once held us together, the warmth of shared love and understanding, has been severed. Their wishes feel like a slap, their attempts at connection like cheap plastic trinkets. My family now is a handpicked group, a constellation of souls who have chosen to stay, chosen to embrace the real me, not the image they prefer to see.
