Status: Progressing
Forbidden Love
Prologue
I always hated seeing other children with their mothers; I hated remembering my mom. Thoughts of her made me insane. They made me want to kill myself. What's worse is that I look just like her. I have every feature she had.
My dirty blonde hair was long, the tips touching my lower back. Bangs hung right above my gray-blue eyes. My nose was long, but not too long and my lips full and light pink.
Striking a pose in the mirror, my eyes were turned to my skinny frame. Large breasts and small hips, a curvy body and smaller butt made my body.
Basically, my body was my own, but I hated staring at my face to see Heather's accusing gaze. Clearly my father hated it, too. He told me that at least every day. He's an asshole; I'd rather see my face than his.
"Mommy, I don't want that. I hate that toy. Mom, why does Daddy hate me?" my childish voice whispered, staring up at Heather with wide eyes.
"Your dad does not hate you. Don't you ever think that," she snapped, venom layering each word like a blanket.
"But then why does he leave bruises?"
"You ungrateful child. I hate the day you were ever born!" she yelled, drawing attention from nearby pedestrians.
Tears poured out of my eyes, a wail escaping my small body as she stormed away, out into the street.
A car slammed on its brakes, the person inside pressing on the horn. Another impatient person veered their Ford Taurus around the stopped driver, not seeing the woman in the street. Either that, they just didn't care.
My mom was hit head on by that Ford, her body hitting the windshield and then flying straight in the air. She slammed on the ground, head cracking on impact. Blood pooled around her body almost instantly. Sirens blared in the distance, but she was already dead.
A tear pooled in the corner of my eye and I brushed it away angrily as I turned from the mirror. I refused to look at my mother's eyes any longer. My father hated me. And the one reason is because I used to say the thoughts he would never speak. You see, I'm unnatural; I can read minds.
My dirty blonde hair was long, the tips touching my lower back. Bangs hung right above my gray-blue eyes. My nose was long, but not too long and my lips full and light pink.
Striking a pose in the mirror, my eyes were turned to my skinny frame. Large breasts and small hips, a curvy body and smaller butt made my body.
Basically, my body was my own, but I hated staring at my face to see Heather's accusing gaze. Clearly my father hated it, too. He told me that at least every day. He's an asshole; I'd rather see my face than his.
"Mommy, I don't want that. I hate that toy. Mom, why does Daddy hate me?" my childish voice whispered, staring up at Heather with wide eyes.
"Your dad does not hate you. Don't you ever think that," she snapped, venom layering each word like a blanket.
"But then why does he leave bruises?"
"You ungrateful child. I hate the day you were ever born!" she yelled, drawing attention from nearby pedestrians.
Tears poured out of my eyes, a wail escaping my small body as she stormed away, out into the street.
A car slammed on its brakes, the person inside pressing on the horn. Another impatient person veered their Ford Taurus around the stopped driver, not seeing the woman in the street. Either that, they just didn't care.
My mom was hit head on by that Ford, her body hitting the windshield and then flying straight in the air. She slammed on the ground, head cracking on impact. Blood pooled around her body almost instantly. Sirens blared in the distance, but she was already dead.
A tear pooled in the corner of my eye and I brushed it away angrily as I turned from the mirror. I refused to look at my mother's eyes any longer. My father hated me. And the one reason is because I used to say the thoughts he would never speak. You see, I'm unnatural; I can read minds.
♠ ♠ ♠
Prologue. Beginning of a new story. Tell me how it is.