The Five
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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Thu, Apr 30, 2015
I can’t forget. The events of the past year are as imprinted into my brain as the scars on my skin. Although I know it’s somewhat my fault, I can’t shake the feeling that everything I’m about to tell you happened for a reason. Like there was a higher power, stronger, faster, smarter than even I. I see what’s going to happen before it happens, after it happens, and when it happens. They don’t know the pain. The suffering. What it’s like to witness the innocent be murdered, to feel what they feel as their last seconds of life are ripped away from them. Their screams cut a scar deep in my flesh as a memory. And boy do I remember them. There was something wrong at that time. The world was out of balance. I watched as humans fell to the temptations of murder, corrupt and overcome with the bad that consumed them. Humanity was digging it’s way to it’s own extinction. If the humans died, I did too. I was not ready to die. It wasn’t my time. That’s where the girls came in.
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Broken

Broken. I'd say that's a good way to describe me. Even as the world fell to pieces, I still desperately tried to collect mine, hoping that maybe I could put myself back together. But when the world turned evil and dark, and insanity fell upon the innocent, I had no choice but to build a new Beth. A new girl. That way, no matter how many people I was forced to kill, I wouldn't shatter. Excerpt: The mistakes of your past will affect your future. I've figured that out over the years of mistakes I've seen bleed from my parents. I don't really know how to describe the consequences of those mistakes, because you can see them all over my body. You can see the bruises from the beatings and the pain flashing in my eyes. The moment you realize I won't smile at you because you're a man who could potentially overpower me and harm me... it's heartbreaking for some people. I've gotten used to the belt lashes and the screaming and the crying and the rejection. So much so that when it was taken away, that scared little girl inside of me tore through my walls, and I broke. Yet, after all the crap I saw and the suffering I endured without the help of my parents, I realized I could handle it. I could shove away the terrified me and fight. I could fight for my friends, and for my sister. Maybe I'll die, maybe I won't. But either way, I'm going to fight to survive until I draw my final breath.

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