On the outside, I may seem like your typical cutthroat bitch, but on the inside, just like every other bitch, I'm a scared girl screaming for help.
It was July, 2014, what seemed to be the best summer of my life. I worked a full time job as a house keeper at the hotel my parents owned in the small town of Brydstown, Tennessee. It was called "The Grandhouse" for God knows what's reason, it wasn't grand, nor was it a house. It was a small bed and breakfast that contained a whole seven rooms, one of which was a suite.
I wasn't originally from Tennessee, I was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York, close to all of my family. Most of them lived in New Jersey, so it wasn't that long of a commute, a two hour drive at the most. We moved when I was ten. My mother wanted a change of scenery, and my father, being an electrician, was always getting laid off when projects had been finished. I'd been working for them since we moved. I worked from 7a.m. to 1p.m., so it left me with the afternoon to go off and do whatever I wanted. July was perfect, I was doing something new everyday, and even when I wasn't I would still be having a fun. Doing nothing became something I enjoyed, as long as I was accompanied by my best friend, Jordyn Cavinnah.
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