Story cover for 13 Years Old by RenesaZeka3
13 Years Old
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    LECTURAS 79
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    Votos 4
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    Partes 2
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Continúa, Has publicado sep 06, 2015
Primrose Alexander. 13 years old, abandoned at the age of 5. Imagine, one day your mum plays with you, up in the attic where your doll house is, and by the time you wake up, she's gone. You sit in the corner, police entering your house. They pick your fragile body up, and take you out the house. You don't even have the power to fight back, there is just a load of tears coming out your eyes. You look up to the police and hear what they are saying. "She hung herself. She's dead..." You hear, you don't know what 'hung' meant. But as you grow up you realise. You miss her more everyday, and this care house is driving insane.


Hey guys, it's Renesa Zeka. This isn't what I usually write, but this is something new.
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[A/N]: Hey guys! Before I post this story, I was going to give a little insight. A very good friend of mine and I decided to write this book, and what better way to recieve constructive critcism than to share with everyone here on wattpad? I'm proud to say that we're nearly finished with it, around three to five more chapters need to be written. However, I will gladly post two chapters a week. Depending on the length, I could possibly split each chapter in two. Enjoy! -Skye & Jasmine My attempts to sleep failed miserably as realization hit me. Tonight was my last night unattached to someone. I swung my legs to one side of the bed. My bare feet brushed the cold floor and sent shivers up my spine. Scotland is much warmer this time of year. I took a few steps toward the window, but before I got too far I heard chatter just outside my door. "She’ll never be happy with him." The first voice, a female, was barely audible. "She could be. She’s just upset about Benjamin." A second voice, a man, replied to the woman. "She’ll never love Derick." A hint of anger played beneath the surface of the woman’s voice. I lay back down after that, so much for Emma accepting our marriage. Unhappiness coursed through my body and I became furious. I’d never love Emma either; with that I went to sleep. I dreamt of my mother singing in the castle, her voice was loud and demanding. Her words flowed so freely from her mouth and danced playfully down the halls. She was in the throne room singing to my father just as she always did. Her song was about the way she learned to love my father. Most marriages in Scotland are arranged, and due to our beliefs they have to work out. My mother had always been so madly in love with my father, but he was hesitant because he had to leave the woman he loved so dearly. So he let her go…
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