^^^^^^^^Lacy
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Do you ever wonder why things happen? Why you out of all people were chosen for that specific path in life?
When I was sixteen that was all I thought about. I remember always trying to figure out the riddle. I was always fascinated by the fate of it. I wondered who chose that path for us?
I guess there really isn't an answer. We all were born for a special purpose. And who we decide to be, decides the difficulty of the journey. I now don't believe that the road blocks we've been chosen to face makes us who we are. What makes us who is are is if we let it affect the future.
I was young, native, and I always tried to see the good in people. Most would think that that's a good thing, but for me, it was my biggest downfall. If I would've let myself see reality sooner, maybe my path in life would have been easier.
But then who's to say it would have changed anything. Hell, maybe if I never met the bastard I would still be alive. But there's no turning back the clock.
I don't regret meeting him, though. As crazy as that may sound, it's true. He changed me in as many good ways as he did bad. He took away my innocence, but he made stronger.
Hell, maybe that's what he was trying to do. Maybe he'd rather be the one to hurt me then someone else. Maybe he wanted to make my fragile heart stronger. He wanted me to be confident and unafraid of the worlds mysteries. Instead of insecure, lonely, and afraid to let someone in for the fear they'd break my heart.
I saw the real him. I was the first he ever uncovered the truth too. It took time and effort, but we got there. If I told the world who is really was they'd probably never believe me.
They all thought of him as a soulless, cold hearted, a monster who liked to inflict pain on the ones who were weaker than him. For the longest of time I did too.
I grew up with him, and I saw the way he was. I thought I knew him. I thought I had him figured out. But in reality, all I knew was the mask. I only knew who he wanted me to think he was.
If only I could back and tell myself then who he really was. I was eighteen when my story with Zain began.
He was the ignorant bad boy, while I was the innocent good girl. Such a cliché, right? Wrong. It's anything but. This is a different story, my story with a bad boy.
It all started with what I thought was a normal fall day. I was in one of my sweet dreams when of course, it was interrupted by the most annoying invention ever made... the alarm clock.
Beep. Beep. Beep. I slammed my hand on that annoying alarm clock that doesn't know the meaning of beauty sleep. 5:30, ugh!
I sat up on my bed and scratched my head yawning. I flipped the covers off of me and walked into my bathroom down the hall.
I took a glance at myself in the mirror horrified. I looked like I'd just been electrocuted.
I brushed my teeth and brushed my hair. I took a quick shower and popped out putting on some blue jeans and a white sweater. I put on all the products that made look decent and not smell like a swamp. I put my hair to the side and just left it flow down. I put on my converse and grabbed my bag and walked out the door.
I almost never had breakfast. My parents were always working, so I never really saw them.
I only lived down the street from school, so I began my walk to school listening to music. It was only about six thirty at this time, so I wasn't necessarily fully awake.
