The Broken
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MatureComplete Mon, Nov 19, 20125h 33m
The Broken
Born without a name and traumatized by death in the midst of her murderous so- called ‘father’ for ten long years she lays broken in an imperfect world where troubles linger in every corner, where happiness-to her- is a myth.
She waits for the feeling of safety, when the nights aren’t her sisters’ cries and the mornings aren’t reminders of her brothers’ death but when will that moment come? Will she ever rest? She’s calling for it but will she ever get it? Can the broken be fixed when all hope is lost?
(READ THIS FOR THEM, READ THIS FOR THE BROKEN)
SNEEK PEEK
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We find ourselves standing on the front door of the shackled house, the cop holding Richie and me. I shut my eyes as my ears listen for the door. Footsteps. His footsteps. They’re getting louder. No. Don’t. Please. Oh God, help me! Someone! Anyone!
The door flings open. “Hello officer, what seems to be the—“ his eyes travel to us. An evil grin of victory then spreads on his face. “I’ve been looking for you.” He whispers as his eyes glare into mine; his pool of lust drowns me hinting me that soon my innocence and virginity will be gone.
“Are you their father?” the cop asks sternly. My ears turn deaf hearing only one sound, an eerie sound of screeching emptiness. Their words float away and soon Richie and I step into the house, again.
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Streets
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Her Deadly D'Angelo Brothers
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REMINISCENT
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𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐭
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Why Me | Book 1
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I was kicked around like trash on the streets. I was the book that nobody could understand or read, but without a care, they were quick to rip out the pages. I screamed for attention, but time after time, I was ignored. Nobody noticed me, so I made myself at home in my own shadow. They say there's light at the end of the tunnel -- I searched and searched for it, but it could never be found. Therefore, I lost hope as I hid in the shade and endured what seemed like everlasting pain. The little hope I did have was snatched from my arms. My baby brother was my life, and they took my glimpse of hope away. Home. Is that a word? Maybe for a family of some kind, but for me, I never had a place to call home. I moved from place to place. Unstable foster care, fighting for my life in group homes, barely surviving in detention centers, and running away from being mistreated as I made many benches my temporary home. The only thing that I was familiar with was a black plastic bag containing my dirty rags. I am too young to know what it feels like to survive. These are the cards life has dealt me and I am not meant to win; however, I easily lose without trying. It is hard for me to find peace. I am paying for my mother's reckless actions. I am trapped in a world where the sun has died because I am unable to feel love. I am unable to dream. Sorrow is my aura, and the sadness hugs me. My eyes are closed shut by the barbed wire fence from my eyelashes as they prohibit tears from falling. I am damaged. When will the morning come? Did the sun put up a fight last night, like I do every single day? If I can survive the day, I know the sun isn't dead. One day, I will awake to a glorious sunrise. Until then, I hope my brother keeps blowing his pinwheel, and I will keep making wishes with every dandelion I come across. For now, all I know is that everything was taken from me, and the only thing I own is my name.Complete
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