Prologue

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Brooklyn

When Adam Levine sang the lyric "it's not always rainbows and butterflies" in the song She Will Be Loved by Maroon 5, he meant it.

It's my truth.

Nothing in life is fair. Well, at least not in my life.

The cards I were handed to deal with were the exact opposite of a royal flush. I'd say I've handled the circumstances pretty well, as much as I could for a seventeen year old.

I was seven when my mom died in a car accident, and my dad has been a raging alcoholic ever since.

It's a miracle I made it out of that house alive, even if it means I have to live in my car for now.

The things my dad did to me were terrible, and I can never go back.

I'm still in high school, so I do have to stay in town. I don't have any other family, and it's not like I have the best reputation.

That's what you get when people judge you based off of appearances. That's all the people ever do in this town.

They judged me for having a few tattoos. Did they know it was to cover up the permanent scars that came from years of abuse? No. They didn't know.

They judged me for having my belly button pierced. Did they know it was because my mom had one when I was a kid, and now she's gone?

No. They don't care enough to ask.

Everyone I've ever loved has either died or betrayed me, so I don't get attached anymore. Some may say I'm cold-hearted, but I just say I'm independent.

I don't need anyone else. The only person I could ever need is my mother, and even she's gone.

I practically raised myself since my dad has always been too drunk to take care of me. I never want to see him again. I'm terrified he'll hurt me again if he finds me.

That's why nobody can find out I'm living in my car. If they find out, it's possible the police could get involved, and I'll be out right back into the hands of my father.

If not him, I'll probably get placed into some shitty foster home or something.

I made a deal with myself that I'd wait until I graduated high school to leave town, so that's exactly what I'm doing.

I turned seventeen in April of last year, so I'll be eighteen by the time I'm done with school.

Then I can leave this hell hole and never come back.

It'll be a good riddance for both me and the town.

Perfectly Wrong | Grayson DolanWhere stories live. Discover now