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.
As soon as I saw his familiar face standing in the old door frame, a huge grin swept across my face.
"Father! You're here!" I jumped into his strong, comforting arms, snuggling into the warmth and drowning out Mary's cries.
He put me down and gave me a hug. "What are you doing, Addie? I thought you were sick. You're supposed to be in bed." He patted me gently on my head, messing up my hair in the process.
"But, I don't want to be in bed," I whined into his shoulder.
"If you go to bed you'll feel better," he reasoned.
I've been sick for the past three days. My tummy would ache constantly and my nose was stuffy.
"I tried telling her that. She'll only listen to you," Mary said entering the room with the soup still in her hands.
"Addie, you have to listen to Mary. She's only trying to help you," he paused, taking in the frown on my face, "I'll tell you what. If you get in bed, I'll stay and read you a bedtime story."
The mere suggestion that Father was staying made me really happy and brought a joy-filled grin to my face.
"Yay! Father is staying!" I giggled out of a excitement.
I may not see him a lot, but I love him. He makes me really happy. I understand he does this just to keep me safe.
I ran back to my room, and plopped onto the soft cushions on my newly made bed, as I waited for Mary to come back with her soup. She set the bowl down in my lap. I could still feel the warmth of the soup, seeping through the fabric of my night gown. I picked up the spoon of tomato soup and scrunched my nose in distaste. I poked my tongue out and touched the soup with it before grimacing in disgust.
"Sir, you can't keep her trapped in this cottage forever. She's six, yet she still hasn't set a foot outside the vicinity of this cottage." Mary said. They have this conversation every time.
"It's for her own good Mary. You know she's not safe out there."
Mary sighed running a hand through reddish-brown hair.
"Father!" I whined. I wanted to go out into the world as well. I'd get to see Father more often.
"Now, now, Addie, I can't have you going out there."
"But, I want to see all the beautiful places that Willie always talks about! Please, Father!" I begged with eagerness, tugging on his sleeves roughly.
"Not yet, sweetheart. Remember what I've told you."
"I know, I know. Not until my eighteenth birthday." I groaned.
"Addie, it's not that long." He reasoned.
I set my finished bowl of soup on the table next to me, the bowl creating a 'clink' as it came in contact with the wooden table. I glared at my father before tucking my head under the white covers.
"Addie." He groaned.
"Well, Mary, I guess I'll be leaving now. Take good care of Addie," I heard my father's deep voice.
"No! You can't leave yet! You have to read me a bedtime story!" I said peeking out of the covers.
My father sighed before smiling at me. He promised me, so he will do it. He always keeps his word.
He reached into the bookshelf and pulled out a book I've never bothered to read before. The cover was made of a deep maroon fabric, and the edges were tattered like bark peeling from a tree's trunk.
My face scrunched up, "That book is ugly. Pick another one," I crossed my hands over my chest.
"The cover may be ugly, but the story isn't. The worn down cover shows how many times people read it. It's got to be a good book. It's my favorite."
"Really? Read it!" I said, looking at him in awe.
He opened the thick, heavy cover of the book and began to read out loud.
•That's all for the first chapter! It's short, but it gives you some insight about the main character. I hope all of you will give this book a try! If you are not hooked already, I suggest reading a bit more! Just a reminder she was ten years old in this chapter. It's like a mini-flashback to the past. Anyways thanks guys! Don't forget to VOTE and COMMENT!
I promise she won't be stuck in the cottage forever...•