PLEASE READ!! IMPORTANT INFO!!

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Hiii!!!
Thank you so much for clicking on my story!!😊

I understand that this story is dead because I haven't updated it in literal YEARS(4). I apologize for my actions, and it's fine if you're not interested in this story anymore. I haven't updated because I lost access to this account, and at that point in my life, lots of things hindered my ability to write or have any hobbies in general. 

This story will now be updated chapter-wise. I'll keep the older chapters up, and I'll edit them as I go along. The plot will stay the same. I just want to upgrade the writing and continue the story forward.

TW(for my explanation and trauma): abuse, body horror? I think, suicide, death.

 If you don't want to read this, then please skip to the next chapter. This is not important to the story at all. i just want to share my trauma(idk why i just feel like i need to write about it to justify why i was offline for 4 years and abandoned my account also just generally have the need to write about it. i feel like sharing this anonymously is way better than actually talking to someone, and i recommend you don't read it. i'm just putting it out there to get rid of it. )

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For context, I started writing at the end of 7th grade and throughout 8th grade. When COVID hit, my grandmother suffered through some health complications and moved into our house, along with her nurse and her maid. My family isn't poor by any standard, but at that time, we were living in a small 3-bedroom apartment. 6 people in a 3 bedroom apartment during quarantine meant I had no privacy or space. The apartment, which had been my childhood home and held a very special place in my heart and seeing it slowly get cluttered and trashed really broke my spirit. On top of all that, my parents were under so much stress, they couldn't handle both my grandmother's treatment and my hobbies and sports. I had qualified for nationals, and I was pulled out of training before I could compete. I lost a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and lost the only sport I had ever had an interest in because of COVID and my grandmother.

Additionally, my grandmother had been very physically and emotionally abusive towards me when I was a child, I'm talking about when I was 5-6 years old. It was traumatic, a nd I don't have many memories of my childhood because of her. My parents are extremely against slapping, spanking or any other type of physical punishment done to children because, in our culture, it's super normalized to hit children, and both my parents endured severe punishments in their youth. My grandmother, on the other hand, fully believed that this was the best(and only) way to discipline a child. 

I wasn't a naughty child or anything. My parents have always said that I wasn't a difficult child and that they're so grateful that they got a child like me. My dad always says that the biggest reason why they didn't hit me was because I never did anything bad enough to be hit. My grandmother would slap me for the most minor mistakes, things like not changing the TV channel fast enough when she told me to, not being able to dress myself well at age 5 or looking bored when she told religious teachings and stories. When I told my parents my story, my grandmother called me a liar and convinced them that I saw that on TV. My dad believed her, and although my mom was skeptical, they let it go. The next day, I was beaten and threatened. I was just a child, and I was scared. I kept it all a secret for a while. My mom only found out when my grandmother started bruising me. My parents fought with my grandmother, and she ended up leaving our house and running away to New Zealand to live with my uncle (dad's older sibling). Although she would visit for a few months every year, my life was relatively good for a few years. I overcame some bullying(nothing severe but just kids picking on other kids type things). I got a better friend group and slowly got better at studying. This was until my grandmother was kicked out of my uncle's house.

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