Ahhh, yes, here we are.
I have wrote up to 4 full chapters since last updated.
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I am only posting one a week, because I need to be able to have time to write my next ones.
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I really hope you guys are liking my story.
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I really don't have much to say but to check out my other stories.
Cambiare. I write this myself. It's all Brooke made.
Divergent: no war. It's a divergent story. The title I self explanatory, I think. If you like divergent you will LOVE this.
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Okie.
Love ya,
#CassiyBrooke 💕
#3/12/14
A Thousand years Ch2
The next day, my cuts mainly burn from using a razor rather than just the blade. I slide into the seat of the old truck my daddy bought the day him and Paulette- er.. My mother- found out they were going to have me. They were going to give me life.
I wish they wouldn't have.
My dad piles my stuff in the back of the truck and jumps in beside me in the one door truck. "Ready to go, kiddo?"
"Yep," I say, popping the 'P'. "What are you and Tara gonna do while I'm gone?" I asked him as the truck roared into life. Tara was my dads- I couldn't bare the thought to call her by what she really was- special lady friend. "Mourn me?" I asked, a slight smile playing across my face. "Worry?"
He eyebrows pulled to the middle and he frowned. "Your not really going to worry about me are you?" I asked. I was starting to sound hysterical. "Your kidding?"
I sit back in to the seat and lay my head on the head rest. "O. M. G. Daddy, I'm going off to help the kids, not be one of them. It was Laura's idea. She said that I could come pretend to be a kid even though I'm not all suicidal now. She thinks I'm gonna be a good example, that's all. I'm not gonna be anorexic because you don't think I'm perfect anymore. I'm not gonna cut. Okay?"
He jut nodded but I don't think he got the jeft of the speech.
"One step closer." I say to him. "One step closer to winning the war. The war that's inside of me. It's like the American Revolution. We kept losing little battles but in the end we won the big battle."
Once more, he nodded.
"Brooke," He whispered. "Brooke, I don't think your perfect. Far from."
I winced. I lied. There goes my lunch.
"I think your the most perfect imperfect person I have ever met. And I'm sorry for what I did to you before. But I like imperfect people better than 'perfect' ones."
"One step closer." I say mainly to myself. "One step closer." I whisper as I drift into sleep.
*+*+*
When I woke my back was killing me from sleeping in the truck. I should have laid down and put my head in my dad's lap.
I look around at the woods that traile all the way down the road.
"We're still in Mississippi?"I ask
him, my voice sounded anxious.
"No. Calm down. We're out of Mississippi. Far from. We're about to be there. We're just getting into Texas," he assures me.
