Thimble

Thimble

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WpMetadataReadمستمرّة<5 min
WpMetadataNoticeآخر تحديث: اثنين, سبتـ ٤, ٢٠١٧
This story takes place in 1969.This story is about a girl who is 16 years old,(Belle) who lives with her cruel aunt (Aunt Harley)who owns a Doll shop.Where she spends all day Doing hard labor making dolls! Then Falls in love with a mysterious young man who goes by the name of J.J . They create a plan to run away together! Then She is introduced to his uncle who kidnaps her! Then Traps her in the basement where she is FORCED to make the Clothes! Will she escape? Will she be saved? Or will she do this For the rest of her life? Find out..
جميع الحقوق محفوظة
#16
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انضم إلى أكبر مجتمع لرواية القصص في العالماحصل على توصيات قصص مخصّصة، احفظ قصصك المفضلة في مكتبتك، وقم بالتعليق والتصويت لتنمية مجتمعك.
رسم توضيحيّ

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Astrid is running from a monster, the man who kidnapped her and forced her to breed his heirs. But she's escaped his clutches. Finding herself fleeing across countries with heavy baggage she finds her self dropped on the compound of the Viking Warriors by a glorious stroke of fate. Vidar has always dreamed of finding his Goddess, his other half. But what will he do when he finds out his destined other half has more than he ever bargained for. Will the great Vidar finally find love, or will Astrid fail in finding him? Read to find out... I can't move swiftly enough as I drop down to my knees to pick her up. Gazing at her face, I loop one arm under her knees, the other over her back. She's as cold as death, and barely conscious. Her pale grey eyes gaze at my with a strange combination of trust and terror. I gently pull her closer to me. "Shhh love, I got you now." "L-Liam..." Her voice shudders and her lips tremble, the cold has seeped through into her bones, and she's so tiny anyway she must be permanently cold. Walking towards the car for the baby I pull her closer to my chest. She's now flitting in and out of consciousness, but, as I hold her closer- hoping my body can give her some warmth- I feel the bump, small and distinct. Panic grips me. She's pregnant? But that baby can't be more than 9 months? In her white T-shirt I can see the bruises and cigarette burns littering her pale skin. Whatever has happened to her is beyond awful. But I'm here now. I've got her.

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