P R O L O G U E

7.1K 279 11
                                    

Our hearts are like a flower; they open up when they blossom

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

Our hearts are like a flower; they open up when they blossom.

My heart had stopped blossoming. It's petals had become stiff, and were slowly dying. I was decaying. Completely broken-down by love. My heart had seized shut to protect itself in desperation for somebody to open it up again.

F o u r y e a r s a g o:

Breezy air swept across my face from the sea, as the sand sunk between my sandals. Waves crashed into the rocks, flying water everywhere. The sand was soft under my feet, but uncomfortable in my shoes; I longed to take them off as I walked down the aisle of our beach wedding.

The sun was blazing hot, and I wished I could of styled my short, beach themed, wedding dress with some sunglasses. The sun was brightening our day, but it was blinding my eyes powerfully as it shone down.

I watched my husband to be, pompadour styled blonde hair, dark brown eyes, and a smile floating across his face, he was waiting for me to reach him.

"Do you, Daisy Sheen, take Robert Sultan to be your husband."
"I do."
"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride."

August 22nd 2016. The day I married the love of my life.

Or so I thought.

The pain I endured from our marriage was nothing like most people would experience. It was the day I decided to give my freedom up to a monster. A human destroyer. A vile human.

In the beginning Robert was chivalrous, caring, selfless, and passionate. I had never met a man that could make me feel as loved as he did.

We had a traditional date night every Friday evening, and we would go anywhere I wanted. Every morning he would cover me in intimate kisses, and make me breakfast in bed most mornings too. He was possessive, but I always presumed it was normal. I always liked the alpha type, but little did I know. He was possessive because of other reasons; not because I was his girl and he worried he was going to lose me, or because he didn't like the looks other men gave me.
I had no clue, and that had left me a single mother. Damaged. Lost. Broken.
I'm strong for Hope - my daughter. The miracle that she is makes me stronger. Without her I would be lost.

I could still feel the sting on my cheek form his uncontrollable temper. The deep shout deafening my ears whenever I did something he didn't like. Or the sickening noise of a bone cracking from his aggression. Sometimes I would lay awake at night having nightmares over what he did.

The day I left was a miracle. Something that took bravery, strength and courage.

So now I am part of a new town, a new neighbourhood, and I have a new life.
Maybe my life wasn't good, but it's amazing now. Perfect even.

Corrupted, Damaged, And BeautifulWhere stories live. Discover now