Les Twins' Princess

Truth be Told

Chloe's pov~

Shifting into a fetal position a whimper escapes my bloody lips, pain shoots down my spine and my body starts throbbing. Laying my head down on the hard concrete floor I try to avoid the several large gashes spread out on my scalp, what I wouldn't give for a shower. If someone were to look at me they would think I was Carrie, covered in blood, my blood. A cold breeze sweeps over my body causing me to shiver violently, goosebumps rising on my naked skin causing the throbbing to increase, groaning I try to cover my body as much as I could in the strip of cloth Rider had given me. At the thought of him anger consumes me and I see red, that bastard will burn in the pits of hell for what he has done. It was like I was reliving my younger years all over again, being beaten and raped repeatedly. However this time I didn't go down without a fight, that is why I'm this way right now. Full of bruises, cuts, and even some bite marks. I swear if I wasn't so crippled right now I would get up and rip Rider's arms off.

"Good thing we're not family."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Those five words have been on repeat and they were driving me insane, does he mean that we're not family, or was he just saying that to be sarcastic? But the tone he used sounded like he was dead serious, rubbing my temples I wince. From the massive headache I received from Rider repeatedly hitting me in the head and from the feeling of all my cuts reopening. Lifting myself up I push myself against the wall in a sitting position, grabbing the white cloth I stare down at my mutilated body. Gashes were covering every inch of skin along with huge words carved into my stomach, chest, arms, legs, and some on my back. Tears roll down my blood stained face as I finally allow myself to cry, cry because of the fact I just got raped, cry because my body has been ruined, and cry because I wasn't with my brothers. They must be so worried and it's no doubt that they have called India already, at that thought a tiny spark of hope sparks deep inside me. India found me once, maybe she can do it this time too. After all she does do this for a living, finding people, however this time it won't end with her slitting someone's throat open.

With the cloth I try to clean my wounds as best as I could, biting my lip when I had to scrape off dried blood from the carvings. Once I was done cleaning my injuries as much as I could, I stared down in silent horror. The words littering my body caused me to become disgusted with myself, ashamed almost. Why has God chosen this path for me, what have I ever done to deserve this? I know you're not supposed to question God's decisions, but how can I not when all of this has happened to me throught out my 14 years of living? I've experienced things that most adults will never go through in their entire life, things that will strike fear right into the hearts of many. 14 year olds shouldn't know the things I know, shouldn't go through the things I've gone through. So yeah, I question the shit out of God's decisions, expecially now that I'm sitting in a room God knows where and suffering from a possible concusion and severe cuts bleeding out as I speak.

"Dear God, please help m-me." I choked out a prayer as I break down, sobbing loudly and roughly rubbing all over my naked body. Irritating the cuts causing them to bleed, it burned like a mother but I didn't care. In my mind if I rubbed hard enough, they would magically erase from my body, maybe I would even wake up in my bed back at the hotel room.

All the life she has seen, all the meaner side of me.

They took away the prophet's dream, for a profit

on the street. Now she's stronger thank you know,

a heart of steel starts to grow. All his life he's been

told, he'll be nothing when he's old. All the kicks

and all the blows, he won't ever let it show.