He Saved Me. (COMPLETE)

Chapter 1

My name is Delaney. Pronounced De•Lay•Nee. I have fair skin, dark brown hair and deep blue eyes. My childhood scarred me. It caused me to be girl I am now. Afraid. Alone. Depressed. I am hopeless.

I was 9 years old when I noticed my parents didn't get along. Every night they would argue, and yell at the top of their lungs. I was so terrified. I cried everynight. I tried so hard to fall asleep, but I couldn't.

A year later. I had finally built up the courage to tell my parents to stop. It was 10:22 I could hear them yelling in the hallway. I got out of my bed and walked up to them. "STOP FIGHTING. I HATE IT WHEN YOU GUYS FIGHT." I looked at my mom, she looked upset, but my Dad. My Dad. His eyes were filled with so much anger and rage. He walked up to me. He brought his hand up and slapped me. I fell to the ground. My mom came to comfort me. "LOOK YOU ARE ONLY TEN. I AM 34 THEREFORE I AM AN ADULT AMD YOU CANNOT TELL ME WHAT TO DO." He was in my face with his finger pointing at me. I ran to my room and cried. Why was he so angry? How could he hit me like that? Is he gonna hurt my mommy? How do I make it stop? These question all running through my head. Such horrible fear I had of my Dad. Why couldn't I just be loved by him?

I sat on my knee's and did the only thing I could do. Pray. "God, I dont want my mommy and daddy to be mean anymore. Please make it all stop. Please. Amen."

Years later it did. I was 15. It was 12:47. I was at school having lunch. "Delaney Montoya, Delaney Montoya to the office please." I threw away my lunch and headed to the principals office. The news I got send me down hill. "Delaney, a police officer called us using your house phone." Mrs. Nichols said. She continued. I listened and my jaw dropped, tears filled my eyes. I left and ran out to the bathroom. My dad. He shot my mom. Then himself. I couldn't believe what was all happening. Why didn't my mom just leave him? Probably because of me. Every question I asked my self all these questions and somehow they all led up to me being the problem. I became so depressed.

They sent me to a foster home. Every family that I went to only had me for about a month or less. Three years later, I turned 18. I was kicked out. No family, only about $8 on me. I was homeless. On the street. I've alone on the street for months. I don't even remember. Im a normal hobo. I sit by the street, with a sign, and beg for money. Sometimes I play my guitar and sing. I got my guitar in the foster home when I turned seventeen. It was a gift from Rosarie, she and I were really close. She was a worker there at the foster place. I saw her on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Those were her work days, she was a really sweet old lady. She had light brown hair, but her roots were white and grey. We could talk for hours. I even called her Ma. Then days before I turned 18 she didn't show up anymore. She didn't call. That's when I got the horrible news she had passed. I think it was a stroke. I felt so horrible. She was the closest person to me. She was my only friend. Then I decided to name my guitar rosarie.

I played her on the streets when I was really in need for money. One day this black range rover drove up to me as I was playing guitar. The man in it looked very young. He had on some dark black glasses. He handed me a $20 bill. I looked at him weird and he just drove off. I stuffed the money in my pocket and continued playing.

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If I can get 5 votes and at least 3 comment on what you thought. I will continue with chapter 2. Much love ~Ariana :3