Finding My King - K&Q #1&2

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Summary

After living with the devil himself, I trust no one. So how could I possibly allow another in? How the hell can I allow my King in? I’m twenty-three years old and the past eight years of my life were sadly filled with, a shitload of loss and pain. I’m not kidding! It should have brought me to my knees, with a big fat ‘screw you world, I’m outta here’. Only, I refuse to give up. I never want to be that weak, pitiful woman I was back when I was with him. Our relationship (if you can even call it that), was pretty messed up. Yeah, it was bad. Sadly, I hadn’t seen this one coming. No, this is totally his style, if I’m honest with you. I shouldn’t have been all that surprised about it either. I mean, he was always a twat, but he’d taken everything. He took everything I had left of my dream. Why though? Why would he do this? I’ve had that dream since forever. He knew how important it was to me and still; he destroyed it all. Damn it! This shit sucks balls big time! Since then, I’ve had to start from scratch. Sadly, it’ll take forever to get to where I want to be. So far my life’s been hard, but that was before ‘him’. Before I finally found, my King... He changed everything. ~ There are 18 books to this series. All are connected in some way, but all separate reads. Erotic/Dark/Romance/Drama/paranormal/humour/suspense ~

Genre:
Romance / Drama
Author:
Dembie Rose
Status:
Ongoing
Chapters:
49
Rating:
5.0 6 reviews
Age Rating:
18+

Finding My King - book 1

*Book 1/Part 1*

Here’s where it all began...

For the last ten months of my sad existence, I’ve been walking around like a zombie. I actually looked like shit, while also feeling pretty lost too. I’ve never felt this lost before. I swear, I’m trying so hard just to get myself out of it. ‘It’ being this depression, and I’ve actually convinced myself I’m making my depression depressed, too.

I’m not taking care of myself at all and if I’m honest, I look like shit. My hair’s greasy and I’ve got a shitload of spots from eating so much chocolate and junk food. I’ve got so many, you could actually play dot-to-dot with them. I’ve no pride left, none to even care. I’ve no interest in trying to make myself look good anymore. What’s the point? I’ve no one to impress and no interest in the opposite sex. Hell, you could even say I’m off men for life; especially after him.

My poor family, bless them. They’ve been trying their best to bring me out of it, but all I want to do is crawl into my cave and hibernate forever.
Sounds good, but unfortunately for me, I have to work. If I don’t, I lose my flat and my car if I don’t keep up with payments.

Having my bestie, Shell, living with me; helps a lot. She’s been a godsend with helping out with paying half of the rent. I’d be well and truly, screwed if it wasn’t for her. If we had another housemate, it would probably make it ten times better. Naturally, she’d suggested this too. Quite a few times actually. But there’s no way in hell. No way will I ever allow anyone near this place. Hell no, my place is my sanctuary. It’s my little hideaway from the shitty world outside. Well, there’s that and I don’t trust any fucker with my shit.

Anyway, I’m really trying to pull myself together but it’s proving difficult. I mean, just pulling myself out of bed is a task at times. I’ve improved though. Hell, quite a lot actually since the day the shit hit the fan; so to speak.

My ex had taken everything from me, I mean everything I had left to make my dream come true. My dream is to one day run my own tattoo and art studio. He’d broken my heart that day, and it definitely wasn’t because I loved him either. Oh no, it’s because he’d taken away the only thing that could make my dreams come true. I had big dreams for my life and he’d destroyed them all.

I’m actually tempted to go see him, to confront him and ask what he’d done with it. Only, I know if I did? I know I’d never get what I need. No, because he’s a dick. He’s a bastard with no heart. If you Google his name, you’ll probably see a picture of him. You’ll see him there with his devil horns. His heart’s made of stone, his blood is as cold as ice. Hell, even his soul is black. It’s pure black, as black as the deepest, darkest depths of the earth. He’s evil at its purest.

Even though he was all those things, I was still good to him. I’d never once disrespected him; not ever! Sadly, whatever I did or didn’t do, it was never enough. I was never good enough. If anything; I was an embarrassment to him. He’d always tell me so too.

Yeah, every time I cried, he’d punish me. He hated seeing me cry because it showed weakness. No woman of his will ever show weakness.

Living with him was pretty much like living in a concentration camp, one where he was the evil warden. “If you fuck up, you get punished”.

Boy, did the fucker punish me.

One day, he became so angry with me; he threw his phone at my head! Hurt like fuck too. He’d hit me so hard it almost knocked me out.
The reason for it; I answered it. I mean, I’d seen the name, and it was a woman so, of course, I hadn’t recognised it, so I’d answered it.

I had a right to know though, didn’t I? I was his girlfriend, and he had women calling him up. He was with me, so naturally, I’d questioned him.

I asked who she was and because of it; I earned myself a slap. It was a hard slap too. He’d hit me so hard across my face, I thought that alone would knock me out. His phone followed it, bouncing off my head.
Bloody hell, he was a bastard, and it’s not even a quarter of the shit he’d done to me.

I’m getting better now though. I’ve actually begun drawing again, which my family are happy about. They’re also kinda freaking over it too because it’s pretty dark stuff. Stuff like death, pain and horrors. All of which shouldn’t be in anybody’s head, let alone my own. Yet, when you’ve seen pain like that it’s the only way for me to express it. You know, like getting it completely out of my head. Yeah, I know it’s crazy, but I’ve found that it actually helps a little. Doing it through my art really helps.

When I woke up this morning though, I woke with a new feeling. I felt like something had shifted. Something rushed through my body, like taking a huge breath. Well, more so when I saw myself in the mirror. I hadn’t recognised myself. Not at first anyway, but once I’d taken a better look, I scared the crap out of myself. I stood there just looking; it was like a switch had flipped. Hell, especially when I looked at an old photo of myself.

This picture was just before I’d met Arsehole. I remember comparing the two while looking in the mirror. Lord knows how long I’d stayed there for but after a while, I’d finally given myself a good shake. Not only that, but a good telling off too.

“What the hell are you doing? Why are you giving up? No man is worth looking like shit! So why are you allowing him to win? Come on; woman! Sort yourself out! Get up, go kick some arse. Go get this dream back on the road. Hell, even if it takes forever. You can do this! Now move your arse, make yourself look fucking awesome again. Inking and drawing is your life so fucking live it! That bastard wasn’t your King. He wasn’t good enough for you. Your true King wouldn’t treat you like that. He definitely wouldn’t bring you down to this shit either! Now get dressed and go live!”

So that’s what I did. I got up and made myself look freaking awesome. Now I’m not walking around like a zombie anymore. I’m not sad and I’m not feeling sorry for myself anymore either. Oh no, now I’m fighting back. I’m not allowing anyone, not any damn fucker to stand in my way. Never again will I ever allow it to happen again; not ever.

I’m placing all my spare time and energy into working all the hours God sends. I’m working my arse off just trying my best to get back what I’d lost. I’m saving every bit of my earnings to one day be able to buy my own studio. I only hope and pray nothing ever stands in my way again.

Yet, there’s a downside to this change though...

I’ve got myself a new attitude, and I’ve actually changed my whole persona. It’s one to go with this ‘new me’. I can’t stop cursing out. Honestly, it’s like I’ve actually got Tourette’s or some shit like that. Oh, don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.

As my story moves along, you’ll finally understand why too.

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