Story cover for M.E Is Not Me by MissBeckyBoo
M.E Is Not Me
  • WpView
    Reads 349
  • WpVote
    Votes 40
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    Parts 12
  • WpHistory
    Time 1h 42m
  • WpView
    Reads 349
  • WpVote
    Votes 40
  • WpPart
    Parts 12
  • WpHistory
    Time 1h 42m
Complete, First published Jun 12, 2014
Alissia Alexandrov, now an elderly woman looks back on what was the hardest time in her life- her teenage years. She was merely sixteen when loving grandfather Egor had to send her away to live with her professional dancer and teacher mother whom she has never met. As if starting a new life in London wasn't enough, tragedy strikes when she is diagnosed with a mystery illness that just seems to be getting worse and worse... Will life at the Royal Academy flow gracefully or will it be destroyed by the fatigue which just never seems to go away?
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Beneath the silent sky

49 parts Ongoing Mature

No one knows her name. No one dares ask. They only speak of the eyes-two different colors, rare and chilling. A mark of death. Of vengeance. A whisper in the underworld: "She doesn't miss. She doesn't hesitate. She doesn't feel." She walks alone through Moscow's back alleys, blood on her boots, the faintest scent of smoke trailing her long black coat. She'd slit a man's throat two minutes ago. Didn't blink. Didn't speak. Just turned and vanished. She's nineteen. But the world thinks she's a myth. And maybe she is. Maybe something broke inside her when she was five years old. When the Russians took her. When they burned her home into memory and carved out the little girl who used to sing lullabies on her grandfather's lap. Now? Now she dreams in flashes. A golden sun. A woman's perfume. Laughter in Italian. Five shadows taller than her, arms wide open. Names, always at the edge of her tongue-but never there. She remembers their faces. And she remembers the man who stole her life. Viktor Ovalov. The Russian leader. The man who turned her into a weapon. He doesn't know she's coming. But she'll show him. She'll make him bleed for every scar he left on her skin. For every scream he buried in her throat. She presses a gloved hand to the glass window of an abandoned apartment. Her reflection stares back-impossibly beautiful, heartbreakingly cold. Eyes covered with dull brown lenses. She's ashamed of what makes her different. Even now, she hides the heterochromia behind colored contacts. Just one more mask to wear. But behind those eyes, behind the silence-she remembers. This isn't a story of sunshine and fairytales. Not a story where she just 'heals' and gets her sunshine personality back. No this is a story where she learns to live again and not just exist or survive. This isn't about healing, it's about living again, revenge and living through your pain. Tw:bittersweet ending Pictures are not mine. So the credit goes to their respective owners.