*y'all DON'T READ THIS. i wrote this at thirteen. you've been warned.* "Harry, it's been rumored that if you have a daughter you would name her Darcy. Any particular reason why?" The interviewer asked. I gulped and glanced down at my feet, not wanting to talk about the girl that I had lost. "Um, yeah, actually." I admitted. "I used to be friends with a girl named Darcy... but she was kidnapped and never found again. I think that I'd like to name my daughter Darcy in her memory." My heart started to ache as I remembered Darcy Monroe and knew that I would never see her again. Or so I thought. © Copyright 2013. All rights reserved. This material may not be reproduced, displayed, modified or distributed without the express prior written permission of the copyright holder. For permission, contact _HakunaMatata_ on Wattpad.com

My thoughts you can't decode.. Sequel : Escape Route.

"You do realize a journal is an extremely personal thing right?" His voice was raspy, low and threatening, making me take a step back in panic as he continued, "so my only question is why the fuck are you standing with mine?" - first book - - instagram acc: @thejournalofficial - - for extra material: arietem.wix.com/arietemx - All Rights Reserved 2013 © arietem

DISCLAIMER: This story was written in late 2012. I wrote Strings Attached as an adolescent with no idea how a healthy, adult relationship should function. This story is dark and twisted in a way that my teen mind couldn't comprehend at the time. There are more than a few scenes in this book with sensitive content. I--in no way--support rape culture and I do not condone my character's actions. However, as I said, this story was written in an ignorant state of mind. I will not remove this story from Wattpad. It is part of my past and though I am disappointed with the content, it shows how far I've come not just as an author but as a free-thinking adult. Thank you for reading. **Excerpt** "Say... it," She gasped, throwing her head back, cupping my face in her hands so that I was forced to meet her gaze. "You're mine." She held my gaze for a second more, before crushing her lips against my own, arms wrapping tight around my neck, pulling me down to her level. Arms sliding easily around her, she wrapped her legs around me as I lifted her up, lips traveling over her chest and collarbone. She moaned as my hands dug into her tender flesh, pulling on it, their violence a stark contrast to the gentle kisses teasing their way up her neck. Bright lines marked the paths that my nails had etched into her skin, marking her, beautiful red tattoos, spreading out over her entire body. Her small hands knotted in my hair, pulling harder and harder as she fought the urge to cry out...