The Power in my Veins✔️

1

My very own copyright disclaimer thingy.

All parts of this story are solely my idea and only mine. If you really want to use my idea, all you have to do is ask. I will let people use my idea to some extent if you ask for permission and if I get credit for having the idea. If you copy my idea, I will hunt your ugly ass down, cut off your dick (even if you don't have one), and dice it. Then, I will feed it to my friend's dog (because I don't have a dog), so that the dogs enzymes can break it down into tinier pieces. Then, you will come out as a pile of shit, just like you're supposed to be.

No, seriously. Don't copy.

Don't tell me my copyright is invalid.

The wattpad website says, "A work - that's a story, art, even a post or review - is protected by copyright, and owned by you, as soon as you write it on paper or save it to your computer or mobile device's drive."

It may not be registered, but I still have protection.

Adeline Zoe Victoria Ambrose's POV

Ya'll I wrote this book when I was in middle school and its shitty af and I don't get how so many of you guys read it.

12 years ago

I skipped around the plain, messy room and plopped down on my old, wooden bed giggling. I bounced on the bed playfully, watching the door like a cat with my observant, big, green eyes.

My eyes widened in fear when I saw Mary enter the room. I screamed and jumped off the bed. Running the other way, I backed up, feeling the cold wall touch my skin. I put my hands up in front of me as a show of protest.

"No! I don't want to eat it!" I yelled as Mary inched closer with the ceramic bowl in hand.

Meet Mary, my caretaker.

"Adeline!" Mary sighed, defeatedly.

Putting my hands on my hips, slightly holding onto the soft, silky fabric of my baby blue night gown, I stuck out my tongue at Mary.

Mary gasped at my defiant demonstration.

"Adeline, you naughty child! You won't get better if you don't eat it!" Mary said, bringing tomato soup closer. The pungent aroma filled my nose and I faked a gag.

I've had enough of Mary's tomatoes. I had tomato soup for breakfast and lunch. I cannot handle another bite of that terrible soup Mary brewed. I wanted one of the pastries Mary baked yesterday because Mary's pastries always make you feel better.

Pouting, I crossed my tiny arms over my chest in defiance. I glared at the petite woman dressed in a floral dress holding a bowl of that icky soup.

"I'm not eating it!" I said looking for an escape from Mary and the bowl of soup.

I heard the distant creak of the door, signaling to me that someone was here. My eyes perked up as my attention was drawn to who entered the cottage. There were only two people would ever come to visit me—My father and Willy, my brother.

"Father!" I yelped out of excitement before darting to the old, wooden door, hoping to see him there.

"Adeline get back here!" I could hear the distant cry of Mary, demanding me to come back and eat my soup. Mary can't catch me. She never does. She just trots behind me in those worn out, black shoes.