CHAPTER 1:
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. And then another, and then another. I thought of my biological mother who had died giving birth to me.
My biological mother who I killed.
I winced, shuddered, attempting to hold back the thoughts of fault. I frowned, taking in another breath. But it's true, right? She did die giving birth to me, so I'm the reason she died, so she died because of me, right?
So says my biological father, Luis.
A knock slamming against the attic door made me jump, my hands flying to my mouth in an attempt to hide a scream.
"Eat up, and hurry," My father growled. "You have 5 minutes." He closed the door behind him, a soft click of a lock echoing through the dark, cement room.
I looked closely to the stairs to find an unorganized sandwich laying on the steps. Crawling towards the steps with my bruised body, I gritted my teeth and looked closely to the low quality sandwich, taking in the ripped edges of the ham, the smooth cheese.
Near to the point of drooling, I grabbed the sandwich, my fingers digging into the sides as I stuffed half into my mouth, melting into the taste of food. I quickly swallowed, allowing my food to rush down my throat, as I took another bite, swallowing more.
I become depressed but satisfied by the taste of food. Depressed because I had it for such a short time, but satisfied upon actually being able to taste it. I took a deep breath and slouched against the stairs, licking my lips, trying to find more flavor.
The door was thrown open to have me scream, my hair being pulled and yanked as I was dragged out of the attic, and to the place he regularly took me: the kitchen.
"Quick," He growled, shoving me towards the counter. "I want the kitchen clean and spotless in 30 minutes. Friends are coming over and I don't want them to see a mess because you won't clean up."
I bit my tongue from saying anything, nodding my head and limping over to the kitchen sink where I began to scrub dishes. This was going to take a while.
//
A/N: I'm restarting my loves. One chapter on each story per day, or every day or so. I'm trying. Thank you, for those who are still here.
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Run Away With Me
AdventureThe past is part of you, but it does not become your future, it does not make you who you think you are going to become. You can change. You don't have to be forced to be anyone, anything. You can find a way out. Where do you belong? Dedicated to...
