INK BOUND

PROLOGUE

IDA BEAUMONT

How come people do what they do?

I never believed in fate, I always thought people became who they were based on the decisions they made.

So why do people do bad things?

Why did my father stand there and watch me get taken? Why did my mother who held me every night telling me it will all be okay, let that man steal me in the dead of night? Why did that man take me?

The ocean tried to save me. Is it bad that I wish the waves sunk the ship? I wish the ship sunk as that would've been a better fate than living where it was taking me.

I am indebted to the ocean; it may not have succeeded in rescuing me, but it tried. Tried harder than anyone else ever did.

I never knew what it was like to be loved. As sad as it sounds.

My parents used to tell me they loved me. They said it.

Someone who loved you wouldn't do that.

I think I got close to love once.

There was this boy, I was 8. He was the only friend I ever had. Until one day he left me, just like everyone else.

I expected it from everyone else, not him.

I suppose that made everything else easier, lowered my standards. It made it easier for me to accept that my parents did nothing about the fact that I had been taken at the age of 9.

I found peace in pushing people away, rejecting them before they could hurt me. Even if I hurt them in the process.

I'm still trying to figure myself out, I feel things intensely, too intense to the point where I let them bottle up and explode. I don't break easily but when I do there's no going back, but maybe that's a good thing.

No one knows how I truly feel unless I let them see it.