I AM RE WRITING THIS BOOK.
VERY MATURE CONTENT AND SCENES THAT MANY WILL NOT AGREE WITH. CRIME AND REAL-LIFE EVENTS THAT COULD TRIGGER THOSE WHO ARE SENSITIVE TO THESE SCENARIOS. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!! 18+ recommended.
All the images and videos in this story don’t belong to me. This story includes MATURE SCENES, SEXUAL EXPLICIT CONTENT, SCENES OF VIOLENCE, CURSE WORDS AND ADULT NATURE. YOU ARE ADVISED TO READ THIS STORY IF YOU ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18 YEARS. THIS IS FOR THE ENTIRE BOOK. I DON’T WANT TO GIVE AWAY SCENES SO EXPECT IT THROUGHOUT THE BOOK. THANK YOU.
“Shit. Who the hell is that?”
Running over to the window I pull the blinds down before looking through the window to see if anybody is there. It’s too dark to see anything outside as I brush my hair back. I'm stressed out.
My heart is beating miles faster than a car can travel and my body is trying to be immovable, but I push through the struggle and sprint down the stairs.
My shaking hands lock both doors and I continue to creep slowly across the creaky floorboards in case somebody’s inside the house with me.
I grab my phone out of my back pocket to call Blaze when I suddenly hear a noise behind me and my feet are stuck to the floor.
My imaginary dreams are becoming a reality where I have been attacked by a stranger and thrashed out, launching items in their direction. I would launch them through the door and say “good girl Clara”, but presently I am having a mild panic attack.
Being my own superhero has flown out of the window and instead of being that strong woman that I have always dreamed of becoming. I am faced with a new reality of me being the mouse and trying to beat the cat at its own game.
I turn around slowly looking at my surroundings and hoping that I don’t see a group of enemies that are going to kill me any second now. Completing my turn on my toes, Chris stands in front of me holding a gun to my temple. I look at him shocked that he’s standing in my house with me. Who is this new man? Why is he doing this to me? and what am I going to do to get myself out of it?
I feel over my back pocket to see if I have my pistol on me. My complexion must be pasty because I’ve realized it’s in my bag upstairs.
Think Clara. Think! He looks pissed, obviously had a couple of drinks because he’s struggling to stand still on the floor unbalanced. I find myself glued to the spot, unable to move.
“All you had to do was stay put but no you had to leave me.”
I cautiously stand with my hands up in front of me. Who knows what he will do to me if I say or do something wrong?
“I have a job. I have to make an income somehow.” I reply cautiously.
He takes long strides towards me and I walk backward until my back taps the kitchen center island.
“I’ve told you, Mirah. You don’t need to work, and I used to get your money for you. Until you left, you bitch, you left us all behind.”
What am I supposed to do now?
“If I come back with you, will you promise not to hurt me?”
“Only if you comply. Only if you comply my dear.”
Life has unexpected turns in events and reality isn’t always what you expect it to be. I should know because I thought with blood and I didn’t realize the consequences that were on their way to me. I was carving a deep empty pocket into my heart and life will never be the same for me again because I was insubordinate, and I listened to my inner spirit guide too late.
Three weeks earlier
Monday 24th September
I stare at my figure in the mirror, and like usual I’m horrified by what I see staring back at me. Why can’t I look like a model, why are my thighs the size of the world and why can’t I ever get away with a pair of shorts.
At least I look better today then what I did yesterday after my foster father Ralph beat me half to death. I plan on starting today positively. I throw my hair back into a ponytail, covering my body over with clothes that feel comfortable and walking to my front door. I open it and leave for my college assignment hand in. Luckily, he’s out today.
The sun is shining down on my face, it’s blinding, making me create a shade with my hand. My beach blonde hair keeps flying in front of my face, sticking to my now wet lips I licked because they were dry.
There is nothing more irritating than when your hair is down, and the sun is another negative piece to add to the puzzle. It is a windy spring day in Arlington. The breeze is ice cold causing my body to shake because it’s trying to keep warm, but it’s my fault for wearing a short skirt with jet black tights a purple frilly top and a coat that sits just below my cleavage.
“Just because you cover your skin with thin layers, doesn’t mean that you’re going to stay warm!” I think to myself. Not a smart decision on my part I must admit but I’m covered up.
I’m not a patient person when it comes to waiting around at the static green lights but, you must wait for everything. Food, public transport, taxis, tutors, toilets which is near enough one hundred percent everybody’s life.
The green light on the traffic signal lights has finally turned red which means I can officially cross the road. I have stood at lights in the past thinking to myself “Should I make a run for it?” but the angel in my mind will always win making me wait for excess time to stride across the street.
Today hasn’t been any different and sometimes I wish I could make the demon choices that I have in my head; instead of being worried about what others think.