his plucked flower

Prologue: Seedlings

IMPORTANT: Do NOT skip the prologue. I know, I too normally skip it, but the story won't make sense without it and it will hopefully tug on you heart strings.

8 Years Ago

"Just leave me alone Axel," she slurred on her braces fixing her red squared glasses that he always thought made her look like a cute fly. Her chocolate brown hair in a high ponytail glistening lightly in the sunlight, as he and his friends surround her.

"Why? Did your poor old father hit you again? Oh poor little Lillian got another booboo." He mocks, forcing out a laugh so he could chuckle amongst my friends, who seemed to all find this way funnier than he did.

"J-just leave me alone." She whimpers making his heart clench for a moment, but his lust for popularity takes over his usually caring self. If only his mother could see him now, his father on the other hand would feel in different due to his stone cold heart and the distance he has created between him and his family.

She runs off, her plaid skirt fluttering lightly as she pushed past him, their arms brushing creating sparks that run up their arms, and his friends that formed a small crowd around her in the middle of the playground. She makes her way back into the building and runs into the bathroom.

She did once have a friend, Ella. Ella and Lillian grew so close that Lillian figured telling her about her father would actually help her rather than keeping things bottled up. Oh how wrong she was. Ella told everybody the next day. From classroom to classroom the rumor spread and everybody thought it was funny.

Yeah, a child getting abused was actually found hilarious. Well, in their heads it was her just being over dramatic and the fact that people need something to laugh at, something to use like a punching bag made this all the more convenient for them.

Luckily, it never got physical. In everyone's head this was teasing, no one thought hard enough to realize they were bullying her so harshly and shooing everyone who possibly wanted to be her friend away by the names and labels they gave her.

She sat down, with a thump, on the damp bathroom floors whimpering and crying as her chest started to heave in the agony she felt as the memories of her father crept in her mind without her consent. She tried to redirect her thoughts by doing the one thing that always calmed her down. She sung, her usually light and airy voice whimpers and hiccups.

"The s-sun will c-come out t-t-tomorrow." The song was a lot more dull and bland than the original and her usual need to scold anyone who sung her favorite song in the wrong key or with the wrong words simmered down as she hiccuped her way through the whole song.

Pangs of pain struck through her, thinking about how this began. She did not want this. She wanted peace with herself, because of the sleepless nights she spent crying as all her, soon to be, bullies laid softly in their beds as their parents read them stories to help them sleep. But after she told that one girl about her parents; her father hitting her and how her mother died giving birth to her, everything broke even more. The tiny pieces of her broken heart shattered creating even tinier pieces making it all the more harder to fix them up and clean her world up.

Axel stood there frozen wanting to take everything back, wanting to take away the moment he started all this. He was the one who called his friends, that day at school, and made them all watch and laugh as he made fun of her for the first time. It was the easy way to popularity. He felt pangs in his heart at each insult almost like he was making fun of himself as he made fun of her.

He willed his legs to run after her to look for her even if it took until dusk but they never moved. He stood there, the sounds of his friend's laughter echoing past his ears, as he, himself, felt like crying. He felt that way after each day of his taunting, but it was like a drug. He could not stop. It was not the drug that made you feel good it was more like the opposite in that factor, but it was addictive.

The praise he got from people afterwards was addictive. The sounds of hearing his friends laugh was addictive. The joy of things staying the same, of things being the exact same and everything being repeated daily was addictive.

He liked knowing what would happen next. He liked feeling like he was some sort of psychic. He enjoyed the fact that if you asked him how his day would turn out he would know exactly what to say.

First, he would get ready as his mother made his lunch in his little Spider-Man lunchbox. He would take the lunchbox and go with his mother to her car and when they would arrive his mother would kiss his cheek and tell him to have a good day.

Second, he would walk down the school halls occasionally greeting people he knew then he would spend his time messing around in class until lunchtime, his personal favorite. The time he got to see her. She was his, his to taint, his to place sneaky notes in her locker when no one was looking. You look pretty today. Don't cry we were only playing, promise! They would make her smile at the anonymous note as he sneakily watched her read the note with a bright smile playing along his lips, absolutely loving seeing her happy. She was his even if he did not deserve her.

A/N

Did you enjoy the short prologue? I loved writing it. This is the first third perspective book I've ever written but I truly love how I get to give you guys an overall view of everyone's opinion. Get ready for this book cause I'm pre planning and I'm so excited!

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