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Prologue

The only friend I ever had was killed.

You would think that I would remember his death in vivid detail, but I don’t. At least, not consciously. My therapist said that it was my way of coping with the loss.

I do, however, remember the day I met him. Like a distorted tattoo, the details of that day have permanently imprinted themselves into my brain. One could best compare our meeting to a fairytale. There was a girl and a boy, aknightand a fearful child. You see, this is where our story varies from most others: he was weak, and I was strong. I had never been the damsel-in-distress type of girl, and he had never been the knight-in-shining-armor type of guy. Our pasts were too atypical to create such stereotypes.

The day I met him, the weather had been uncharacteristically cold, and the trees seemed to be cooperating, their branches leafless. If anything, it was beginning to look more like fall than the previous months had displayed. I was terrified my butt was going to freeze off, and I would be forced to poop out of my mouth (Nanny #1 had a huge imagination).

Daddy and Mommy had been fighting again. I remember that detail, but I can’t recall what the fight was about. I remember, he called her a lot of nasty names, and she retorted with another guy’s name, declaring that he was “better” than my father. Of course, my innocent brain thought she was talking about cooking or some shit like that. Well, in my defense, it turns out the other guydidknow how to take care of a muffin, if you know what I mean.

My eyes flickered nervously between Mommy and Daddy; my small hands held my favorite doll in a death-grip. I wore a new outfit my nanny (yes, the one who told me I’d shit from my mouth) bought me - a white, billowing number with a contrasting red bow. She had plaited my hair into two braids, too, and I felt beautiful for the first time in my life. All I had ever wanted to be was the little girl my mommy and daddy loved and wanted.

“Mommy! Daddy!” I pleaded, my little voice trembling. “Please stop fighting.”

Daddy looked at me as if he had just realized I was in the room with them. Instead of apologizing like I expected at getting caught in an argument, he appeared almost enraged. Even back then, he didn’t like me interrupting him. He didn’t like me doing anything, really, besides smiling like the pretty puppet he wanted when he birthed me.

Before I could even think to scream, he had grabbed one of my braids and dragged me outside.

My knees hadhit the grass, small rocks and other unsavory substances digging into my skin as my dress rode up. The poor dress itself was stained a deep brown and an almost garnet red.

Blood, I realized numbly. My blood.

And Dolly, well, Daddy hadn’t been gentle with her. Stuffing covered the grass, mixing with the stream of blood from my legs. The sight would cause any psychopathic pedophileto orgasm.

I stared at my doll for a long moment, barely hearing my dad’s cuss words and threats aimed towards his six-year-old daughter. I didn’t even process it when he slapped me across the face.

No, my eyes remained fixed on Dolly. She couldn’t be gone, not Dolly. Who would have tea parties with me or cuddle with me when I became scared at night?

I didn’t cry as I stared at her maimed body. I was too numb for that, and still, somehow innately I knew that she wasn’t real. You couldn’t mourn an inanimate object.

No, it would take a few more years, not until I was thirteen, to understand what mourning meant.But I wasn’t the savior during that point of my life. I was the murderer.

Looking back at my interaction with Dolly, I found it ironic that I lost something important to me the same day I gained the best friend I ever had.

Sniffling, I watched my dad’s back retreat into the house until the door slammed shut, leaving me alone and outside as if I was nothing more than discarded trash. Maybe that was all I had ever been to him.

It took me a few tries to scrambled to my feet. My body shook from my dad’s unexpected aggression. Looking back, I suppose you could say that my dad’s anger was the only constant in my life.

Piles of leaves littered across the grass and sidewalk, crunching underneath my sock-clad feet. I wrapped my arms around myself, attempting to ease the sting in my arms. The chill from the howling wind caused goosebumps to erupt on my flesh.

With no purpose or destination in mind, I walked. All I knew was that I wanted to get as far away as possible from the two people who were supposed to provide me with unconditional love. Of course, these thoughts only came to me later when I was older. All I remember at the time was wondering why Daddy didn’t love me. Why had he hit me? Did I do something wrong? Why was I a failure as a daughter, even wearing my beautiful new dress?

I wasn’t aware how far I had walked until I stumbled upon a gated playground.

A school, I realized almost dumbly. Like where the kids on TV go.

I had never been to school before. For as long as I could remember, Daddy kept me in purposeful isolation and therefore, homeschooled. He didn’t want me to have friends.

Kids climbed the jungle gym, played tag in a field, and swung on the swings. The sight seemed almost ethereal, and my little brain attempted to process everything at once.

Fora brief moment, jealousy speared my chest. I wasthe girl who had everything, yet ironically, my isolation grew more pronounced in the presence of people – at least the people my parentsallowedme to associate with, namely stuffy children of business executives.

I simply stared at the kids in awe. I didn’t want to join them; I wanted tobethem.

My searching eyes landed on a figure surrounded in a sandbox. She was bent over a toy truck, her dark hair cascading down to her knees. She appeared dainty compared to the boys surrounding her, and I couldn’t see her face.

Moving along the fence line, I planted myself in front of the sandbox,metal separating me from the elfin figure. I caught the end of the taller boy’s speech.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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