The Streets That I Call Home

The Streets That I Call Home

  • WpView
    Reads 58
  • WpVote
    Votes 1
  • WpPart
    Parts 3
WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing9m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sun, Jan 28, 2018
Some people believe that everyone gets what they deserve, that those who work hard get rewarded and those who get by in life by hurting others end in failure. I also thought this was true as a kid; however, I now know this to be the farthest from the truth that one can get. In this world the only way to survive is by fighting to the bitter end for what you want, no matter what the sacrifices or casualties are. I just wish I'd known this sooner, maybe then I wouldn't have had to suffer so much... Plus I wouldn't have been able to hurt so many others....
All Rights Reserved
Join the largest storytelling communityGet personalized story recommendations, save your favourites to your library, and comment and vote to grow your community.
Illustration

You may also like

  • Cold Water
  • Running Screaming
  • Family Comes First
  • Rising from the ashes
  • The Trouble with Trust [COMPLETED]
  • Someone New ✓
  • Logan
  • Tell Me Pretty Lies
  • Dear Scott
  • Saved

[BWWM] I was only twelve years old when the world turned cold. The day my mom died in that car accident, I felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my heart. My dad, who had always been my hero, suddenly became a stranger, filled with rage and blame. He couldn't see that I was hurting, too; he only saw me as a reminder of his loss. The accusations cut deep. He said it was my fault for being there, for not doing something to save her. For being the reason she was in the car in the first place. In the years that followed, things only got worse. The abuse started gradually-a harsh word here, a shove there-but it escalated, leaving scars that I carried long after the physical pain faded. I was drowning in my own despair, struggling to keep my head above water while my father's anger raged like a storm around me. I only had a break from his anger when I started living with Aunt Dina-my mom's older sister. Well, that was because she found me nearly dead on my bed after I took a dozen pills. I was tired of living. I had hit rock bottom. The harsh whispers that followed me around and the stares at school. I pretended not to notice, like it didn't bother me. But it did. I was alone. Then came Athalia, a ray of sunshine cutting through my darkness. With her, I felt something I hadn't felt in years-happiness. She became my light through the darkness and my lifeline. ••••••••••• ● Warnings ⚠️ ~ Mention of suicide ~ Anxiety attacks ~ Rape attempt ~ Mention of self-harm ~ Depression

More details
WpActionLinkContent Guidelines