Ivan callum with the face of a angel never let's a chance go where he has to watch his academic rival Rose Levine fail. But the feeling is mutual.
When both of them are only in a need of one single opportunity where they are guaranteed a future. Th...
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It is the last day of the month and late night. I hold my phone in my hand and stare out at the busy road full with cars and trucks.
I unlock my phone to check for new messages but there are none. Sweat trickles down my back as I raise a hand to press it against the cold glass of my window.
Rain drops prickle down the glass as I hear the peaceful voice of rain pouring.
Wall clock inside my room makes a loud tick to indicate it is 12 in the morning. My heart starts beating frantically and I close my fist on the glass. I remove my hand knitted cardigan and place it on the window seat as I think about my past years.
ABUSE, RECONCILIATION, Abuse, Reconciliations, abuse, reconciliation. Till it became a routine. And i got used to it. My body got used to it. My brain got used to it.
Six months ago when my mother supposedly got killed by my father who was drunk. We all thought she was dead.
We even buried a body, and there is a tomb of her name in our local cemetery.
A Unamused laugh escapes as I think about my condition when I got to know my mom was killed by my own father.
I was in my phase one of my grief. When I receive a phone call from my dead mother.
That was the day my phase two of grief started.
anger.
Today will be the last day of my journey in this fucking asylum and tomorrow will be the start of my new life.
My phone pings indicating a new notification and my heart beat picks up. My hands shake as I unlock it and open the new message. My heart skips a beat and tears start rolling down my cheeks.
$20,000 dollars. And i cannot stop my face to break into a full blown grin.
I stumble backwards and my lower back hits the bookshelf made up of wood.
I fall on the ground and my head hits on one of the sharp corners of the shelf.
A series of curses leave my mouth as I bring my hand upto my forhead and give it a rub.
I continue rubbing it while getting up and walking towards my bed getting ready to sleep.
I fall on my back on the hard mattress with a sigh as my hair sprawl on the pillow behind my head.
Few nights here and then I'm gone too.
I shouldn't be happy for leaving my father. My only family left here all alone. And my heart somewhat feels bad for him. If my mom wouldn't cheat on him he wouldn't indulge himself in all the drugs and alcohol. But here we are.
My family wasn't always the happening family in town. But I loved waht we had. My father barely spoke to me but when he did he was gentle. My father and my brother also had the same bond. While me and Jameson used to fight all the time there were always voices of chitter chatter coming from our home.
I used to admire my parents as a couple and I used to fantasize about being a mother like my mom and finding a man like my dad.
Now when I look back. They are the people who are responsible for my condition right now.
I only pray to Jesus that I don't turn out to be like my mom let alone to be a mother like her.
I adjust myself on my pillow pulling my comforter till my waist.
I close my eyes and only think about the foreseeable future.
Do you guys want this to be a dual pov? Or should I continue with the fmc's pov? Tell me.
Xoxo.
Also this is the first draft. And english isn't my first language also this is my first book so bare with me 😭
