Broken

Beaten. Beaten and bruised. Beaten and bruised and completely alone. Not a soul alive knows of my existence. Except for him. He's the reason for everything. In some ways i hate him, in others its love. But its his fault.
A few weeks ago, things were different. I had a family that loved me, a boyfriend who trusted me, a good education with a positive future. But now, as i look down to my shaking hands, it is with great regret that things have changed. If you think about it, Murder that is, its a word rarely used but never forgotten. It is a word of malice, hurt, betrayal and the ultimate question: Why? If someone says the word, murder, the first thing that comes to mind is blood, deceit and the poor family whose crying can be heard in the blackest of nights and the brightest of days. The pain, they say, never goes away. You never forget and you can never truly forgive. It is an art. An art to learn to live without the person who was so cruelly snatched away.

Fairytales? Ha. I dont believe in fairytales. They start of sad and end up happy. I started of sad was tempted by destiny which sealed my miserable fate. I thought i had it bad at the beginning. What i didnt know, were things was about to get a whole lot worse.