we are wнo we are: тнe ғυcĸed υp ғaмιly ѕerιeѕ вooĸ 1

Chapter 1⚫ life🔵

🔹️🔸️🔹️🔸️🔹️🔸️🔹️🔸️🔹️🔸️🔹️🔸️🔹️🔸️🔹️🔸️🔹️🔸️🔹️🔸️🔹️
👑Kelly👑
🔹️🔸️🔹️🔸️🔹️🔸️🔹️🔸️🔹️🔸️🔹️🔸️🔹️🔸️🔹️🔸️🔹️🔸️🔹️🔸️🔹️

I remember when I was a kid my mother used to say 'God has good plans for you'. Now that I think about it, it's total bullshit. If 'God' had good plans for me, then why have I been going through the worst things in my life?

"Beep, Beep, Beep."

The alarm that I scheduled for five thirty rings, and I slap my hands down on my clock. Slowly and reluctantly, I uncover my face. I blink, close my eyes, and blink again.

I look to my right and sigh when I realize that the alarm didn't wake up my uncle. I sit up, drag my feet off the bed, and rub my knuckles into my eyes. I stretch my arms above my head, yawn, and watch my legs dangle above the off-white polyester carpet.

My mother died when I was only ten years old; a hit and run is what took her life away.

Dealing with her death was one of the hardest things I ever had to go through, but having my uncle adopt me a few months after she died, was way worse. My father left my mother before I was even born, so I couldn't go live with him. Ever since I was eleven my uncle has been coming in and out of my room, making me help "relieve his stress."

I know what you're thinking: Why won't I tell anyone?

Well, I did.

When I was fourteen, I told my mother's friend Stacy. My uncle was really good friends with the head cop in our town, so they found a way to drop it. Everyone thought highly of my uncle in this stupid town. After they finally dropped the case, my uncle beat the shit out of me. After that beating, I knew that there was no way out.

As I grew older, I got use to my uncle raping me and now I can sense when he wants the sex. It's like a routine; I go to school, I go to work, I come home, and then I stay in my room bedroom with my uncle in it for two or more hours.

After those gruesome few hours, I move as quietly as I can and step into the bathroom. I then do my morning ablutions and get dressed for my first day of school.

When I am done, I look in the mirror at my brown straight hair that stopped just below my shoulders. I'm dress in a grey T-shirt and black sweatpants, which is a pretty usual outfit. At this point, I walk to the kitchen and make myself some cereal. Sitting at the dining room table, I watch the colorful wheels of cereal float around in my bowl full of milk.

When I see on my phone that it's six oh five, I quickly finish my cereal and walk out of the house to see the bus was already coming towards me. The bus stopped and I got on, sitting all the way at the back.

I'm not really a social butterfly so I sit in the back during my time riding to school. Soon the bus was full of kids, talking about what they did for the summer or how they weren't ready for school to start.

Soon the bus takes its final stop at the school, dropping everyone off. I walk into the school, with my schedule in my hands. I sigh, looking down at my schedule. It seems I have all AP classes. I wasn't mad that I had the classes, I was mad because of all the work that came with the classes.

I most definitely have to keep my grades up. I am now a senior so having bad grades is not an option, especially considering the fact that college is the only way out of this town and away from my uncle.

I walk around the building looking for my first-period class, which was AP History. I stopped at Room 602 and check my phone. It was only seven ten and school didn't start till seven forty, so I sit down and take out a book from my backpack.