Chapter 1

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This fan fic is Rated R for repetitive Mature Content.. Sexual content.. Homosexual content

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Support is what brought together the souls of those that mattered. For a group of teenagers, it would guide them through the good, the bad, and the dreadful. It would nourish their mind, body, and spirit-- a group of positive influence would nourish their mind, body, and spirit. That's what Beyoncé wanted. She would set aside the opportunities her mother's successful marketing agency forked out, and would strive to produce a healthy set of mind for young adults that were naive, disabled, and willing. She wanted these teenagers to prosper into something dynamic and into something that's genuine.

Beyoncé was no fraud-- stating what will never be distinguished from fantasy. Seeing a smile, or seeing someone accomplish something so appreciable, was so sentimentally tender for her to experience. It was so difficult to notice with that melancholy expression that shaded her true beauty, but if Beyoncé fixed her eyes on anyone who possessed a smile it would stir the strings of her heart, mainly because she no longer had the strength to curve the corners of her mouth any higher than the draped state they remained in.

It felt like no one in the world could even coax a smile to surface from under that mound of depression coating her face. That's what inspired her. To convince people to not only express their inner beauty, but to encourage them to vaunt about it. Beyoncé had no inner beauty. Not will all of the negativity she's received piling up over the years. Not with her family members constantly criticizing her sexual preference, frequently proclaiming phrases like, "I'm not trying to raise no heterosexual girl, now." in that country-folk dialect.

Bey had two mothers, which she thought was considered customary by society, and it brainwashed her into deeming homosexuality as the "norm" and that is was "necessary at all cost." Her mothers weren't the only people who stimulated Beyoncé's vision of what was supposed to be the ideal sexual preference. She was raised around families who were also interested in romantically bonding with the same sex, and children who put that gay reality into perspective as well. In fact, her best friend Kelly previously aspired to marry Beyoncé while they were growing up, and if it weren't for those straight school teachers, Beyoncé's entire visionary of a heterosexual lifestyle would have been lost.

Bey had initially taken a morning jog to clear her thoughts, but now her thoughts were in desperate need of collecting. Now she wasn't even sure if she wanted to pursue her dreams of creating this revolutionary support group. She wanted something that could redraw the outlook of life for thousands of children, and she wanted something that would drastically improve the next generation, that would ameliorate this scandalous world. They were the future, but how could Beyoncé improve their future if she despised something so simple like visualizing her own?

The musing was clawing and ripping away at her train of thought so vigorously that she had to take a seat at the nearest bench just to settle the heaving in her chest. Just to call a sense of easiness back to her mind, even though she'd be calling out to deaf ears. She would do anything for a bottle of mead. She reminiscenced over the feeling of that tingling sensation of alcohol and fermented honey skimming her esophagus, and spilling into her stomach. Mead was her only sense of security. Mead was alcohol and it was her only sense of security. That would haunt her reverie.

Are you alright?

Beyoncé's swollen brown eyes and silky smooth skin produced an impression so inequivalent to her true emotional state that it made her blood run cold. God had given her a face so aesthetically pleasuring and a physique sculpted with such perfection, and she didn't deserve it. Beyoncé admired her beauty. She never completely stripped away at her emotions like others with souls as dejected as hers. She acknowledged her beauty because it was there, but it was in all of the wrong places. On occasion, she wishes she weren't so alluring, because bad things can come in pretty packages, and Beyoncé was not at all a pretty thing.

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