A Collection of Short/Long Stories I've Written;

The Girl Who Cried Wolf: Chapter One

Summary: 

 Imagine telling the truth, then having to tell a lie, saying that the truth was in-fact a lie, because being a liar is better than being dead. 

 November Macey, the girl who cried wolf, and accused her father of beating her, wasn't actually crying wolf, she was telling the truth.

Now she must find a way to rid the monster controlling her life and set herself free, before she loses herself amongst the lies and beatings.

All Right by Myself, the Author, Amanda Rose (c)

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“You better get down here right now!” Edward hissed up the stairs. “You are in trouble, young lady.”

November was hiding, at the top of the first set of stairs, rocking back and forth to comfort herself. She winced in pain as she touched the back of her head, wrinkling her nose up as the blood poured on her hand.

“November! If you’re not down in the next ten second’s I’m coming up!”

A sob escaped November’s lips, and she curled up tighter into a ball. She closed her eyes and wished her mother was still here. She wished for someone to knock on the door and distract her dad, and she wished that she wasn’t born.

Then, a terrifying noise – footsteps – thundered up the stairs and November held her breathe, wishing for him to walk past.

Edward crouched down beside the girl, and grinned mischievously. “There you are, November. I was looking for you.”

The girl opened her eyes and exhaled, before inhaling sharply again, looking into the grey eyes that frightened her, the grey eyes that once smiled when she stared into them, the grey eyes that scanned the words, when she was younger, on the pages of so many books, reading them to her. And the grey eyes that belonged to her father, Edward Macey. The famous billionaire, a lovely family man, the mayor of London – according to the outside world – but a brutal bully, a retched man with a cold heart, was what he really was. 

“Please don’t hurt me anymore,” the girl begged. She was just fifteen years old and adrenaline pumped her body, as she shook with fear.

The man narrowed his eyes, and stared at the girl.

“Now, November, come on. No matter how many times you say it, you still need to be punished for what you done.”

“But I didn’t do anything!”

“You did!” The man growled. “You whined, about your jacket, didn’t you? Last summer, on your way to your grandmother’s house, you asked to go back, didn’t you, November?”

The girl whimpered, but didn’t say anything. He made her admit each time, and every time she was slightly closer to believing it herself.

“Didn’t you, November?” He snapped. “You made her go back, you made her turn around didn’t you!?

“Yes,” the girl whispered, knowing that that was what he wanted to hear.

“You killed her, you beast! You murdered my wife for a jumper? You’re to be punished. Not that stupid deer, his fate will come from a hunter, your fate will come from me. She didn’t deserve to die. She was my life, she was everything. You deserve to die!”