(Not) written in the stars!

Chapter 1 (Alexia) Dragon's fire

(TW: Physical and sexual abuse)

As I already said, I was anything but typical by the time I turned 12. At that age, I got my first period, but my body hadn't developed much, probably because food wasn't abundant at home. My breasts had grown some, enough for me to start wearing bras, which I had to grab from the church shelter's bin since I was not comfortable talking about this with my dad, who, anyway, was never home.

I didn't have friends as I had to care for Ava, who was incredibly sweet and innocent, even with our weird life. I did my best to keep her away from the raft of the dragon. I tried to give Ava the memories of things I used to do with Mom. I would bake cupcakes and help her decorate them. We watched movies and played pretend. She loved dressing up as a princess, and I was glad I had kept all my costumes from when my life was good. While Dad wasn't home, there was laughter and light. I really tried my best.

But when Dad came back, now full-on drunk and involved in some shady business, the house became a scary, dark cave. I'd urge Ava to our room and ask her to stay quiet. She was usually very good and understood that our father wasn't nice.

At 12, I was already jaded, tired, and frustrated, but the worst was yet to come. Right before the end of my sixth-grade school year, Dad came home one Friday night in one of his mean, drunken moods. He arrived earlier than usual. Ava was already sleeping in bed, but I was finishing taking my shower. Dad burst into the bathroom, gave me a weird look, and stared at me from head to toe.

I tried to cover my body as fast as possible, but he was looking at me like I was the prey and he was a wolf. He came closer and started saying that I looked exactly like Mom, that he missed her, and that since I had already replaced her in all the other roles at the house, like the cook and Ava's mom, maybe I could replace her in his bed. 

I was trying to understand what he was saying, and it all felt terribly wrong. I needed to leave the bathroom, but he didn't let me go.

That was the first night the dragon touched me!

Once he had satisfied his needs, I was left alone, crying and in pain. I immediately vomited, feeling disgusted and dirty. After a few hours, hidden in the bathroom, I went to bed beside Ava and planned our escape. 

We could no longer live here. I would rather risk going to the foster system and pray that a lovely family will want us both than stay here and have his disgusting breath on me. This time, he fingered me and forced me to give him a blow job, but he didn't do the full act, and I was not planning to stay here for that to happen.

That weekend was torture. Dad had definitely lost his mind. He didn't leave as usual and started calling me sweetheart, his endearment for Mom when she was alive. He would walk close to me and tenderly put his hand on the small of my back or shoulder while I cooked. 

It was surreal and sickening.

Having Dad home was also confusing for Ava since his presence threw off our routine. She was confused and acting up, something she hardly did. I took her for a walk in the park to give her a breather from Dad's weird mood. 

I realized something had changed in me; I felt like everyone who saw us in the park could tell that I was tainted and used. It was a scary feeling, so even though I wanted Ava to be OK, I also wanted to hide away from the world.

That night, the dragon came for me again, showing up in our room and quietly saying, "Sweetheart, you are supposed to be in our bed!" 

To protect Ava, I went with him and accepted my destiny, but the whole time, he touched me and said nasty things, talking to me like I was mom; I tried my best to contain my tears and prayed Ava wouldn't wake up and look for me.