Hunter ı Book One ı The Hunter Trilogy

Chapter One - PeePee

Before I start my story, I suppose I should give you background information about myself so you can understand me. I was, keyword is was, a happy girl until a little after my sixth birthday when my father had told me my mother had died. 

On my tenth birthday is when my nightmares began, and also when my dad lost his last piece of sanity; turning to ridiculously large amounts of alcohol in attempts to calm his inner demons. 

Soon enough, he somehow convinced himself that I was the reason why his love was taken away- which I find it quite ironic because on that very night he was out with his "buddies". As you can foretell, he started to abuse me- verbally, mentally, and physically. 

It didn't happen immediately, but it just built up over time, like if you slowly pour water into a cup. It wasn't like my father went out on a severe drinking spree one night and came home drunk, and then started to beat me senseless. It was more like one slap led to a shove, that shove led to a push down the stairs, and so on. As you can tell, at this point that barely-filled cup of water was overflowing. 

Being abused at a young age sent me through dark times and thoughts to the point where I've tried suicide a countless of times, or rather I wouldn't like to count the times. I've stood at the edge of the top of a building, holding a knife pointing to my heart, etc.

It was wrong of my father to treat me like nothing, but his old side was still in there. I believed that he could be the same again. He would be that same loving father and taught a little girl how to fight.

But those times were horrible, but who could blame me? I had no one who accepted me, no one to talk to; my peers basically rejected me. I finally reached the stage of the numbness to pain, but here and there, pain would eventually eat me alive. Eventually, I was living up to my surname; my heart, feelings, any emotions were splattered with inky blackness, slowly swallowing me up. 

I've spent a lot of my time crying so much it feels like I've cried out all my tears. I'm basically just emptiest cup of glass there is. It's been less than six years since I had released a laugh. I was a broken shell and a ghost of what I used to be; shattered pieces that could never be pieced together. My trust of anyone was the equivalent of broken glass; wounding anyone who tried to come close.

If I could describe myself with one word, it would be "empty"; I do not feel pain as often as I used to. "Joy" and "happiness" are two foreign words that do not fit my dictionary. I have no more tears to cry. I'm empty, but what seems to cling onto me is depression and anger. 

I only to put a tough appearance to convince others and myself that I can handle anything life throws at me; in this case I felt life threw an airplane at me. Then again, it's not like I have any other appearance to live by; my heart is shattered, and sometimes I question if my own soul still lies within.

It this situation, it seems like life couldn't get any worse.

* * * *

I veered off into my own thoughts, tuning out the teacher's lecture. Everyone knew that she wasn't a real teacher, and the only reason why she was teaching was because of fraudulent papers of a diploma, degree, etc. The sole reason we listened to her lectures because they were, surprisingly, true. 

Apparently her story was that she's a part of the CIA and they're suspecting a drug operation going on in this area. At first I bought her story because my dad recently started to get involved with drugs, but when students started questioning her, she just showed us her badge so we shut up and didn't say anything else.