[COMPLETED]
"Life doesn't get easier or more forgiving, we get stronger and more resilient."
― Steve Maraboli
She has experienced more pain in her 15 years of life than many people do in their lifetimes. Her life has always been filled with pain, em...
➖ A/N- First of all, I would like to thank every single person who supported me, you don't understand how much I appreciated all your kind words.
Thank you to everyone who has left comments or contacted me personally. I read every single comment and message, and they all warmed my heart.
The love you all showed me made me so grateful for what I have and I couldn't have been more happier to write the book.
So I won't take up much of your time, again thank you from the deep deep bottom of my heart, I appreciate each one of you.
I love you all so much Take care💖
PS- One more update coming soon 😉
➖
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ARABELLA'S POV
I had spent nearly half of my life attempting to impress and be accepted by the two monsters I used to refer to as my parents.
But all they did was drain me to a point where I began to despise myself, my heart was broken into a million shards, and each tiny piece contained a story about my unworthiness.
I had obeyed their every word as if it were God's word.
And the one rule that I religiously followed was to stay the hell away from the hospital at all costs.
So there was no way I was going to the hospital in any case.
I might be utterly and foolishly unreasonable, but do hell with that, I'm not going to the hospital.
I'm damaged from head to toe, physically and mentally, and going to the hospital will merely stamp a formal seal of acknowledgment on that.
I know I'm broken, and the acceptance of its validity is something I still struggle with everyday, but I didn't want a written prescription in a legal document labelling me damaged, broken or unfit, especially for the rest of the world to see.
Not only am I concerned about the scars and bruises on my body, but also the various possible disorders that might come as a parcel of my tragedy.
What if they really labelled me as unfit?
Will they lock me up in the hospital?
And then there was still a part of my brain that was scared of John's (step-father) threat. He imprinted in my mind that hospital meant bad news and no matter how much I despise him, I still believed him.
"Arabella, are you all right sweetie?" I heard dad's voice call me, bringing me out of my dreadful thoughts to a cold and stony face.
A look of realisation struck on my father's face as he let out a soft sigh and waited for me to decline.
