Anger Can't Be beaten | Jeff The Killer vs Homicidal Liu Love Story |

Prologue | editing |

I just wanted to say, Stockholm syndrome is not something to be romanticized. This book is written from the point of view of someone with this syndrome and should not be taken lightly. If you're here for a classic creepypasta fanfic, go read my other book. This is not for you

WARNING: This book may contain heavy themes such as suicide, self harm, abuse and bullying. If you are uncomfortable with any of these themes, I suggest you don't read this book. It's also a shitty prologue

Sierra woke up to the beeping of her alarm clock. She reached over and smacked it, turning it off. Her legs refused to move as she tried to stand up. 'Maybe my body is right, we shouldn't go today' she thought to herself as the stinging of waking her legs up set in. She always hated morning. It was the bad start to the terrible day that was bound to come.

There was a bang from down the hall outside Sierra's bedroom that caused her to flinch. Loud bangs were never good in other houses, but in hers, it was worse. A loud bang meant one of two things, either her dad was finally home from work, or her mother was drunk again. It was almost always the second option.

She stood up from her bed and walked to her vanity. She looked at her hair, thousands of different colors from the semi-permanent dye she used. She always made sure she had enough to dye it in the morning.

Sierra opened a drawer and looked through the mess of glass manic-panic bottles. She found a black one in the back and figured it would cover the purle and green in her naturally light brown hair nicely. She opened the jar with a twist and dipped her glove covered hand in. She pulled out a blob and started to run it over strands of her hair, careful not to miss a single piece. Twenty minutes later, she had covered the entirety of her mid back length hair.

Sierra sat at her old beat up desk that her brother gave her when he left and turned on the computer she had been saving for nearly a year to get. It started the slow boot up sequence as she pulled out her flash drive and set it on the desk. She drudged to her closet and picked out an old, baggy, gray shirt and some black skinny jeans. She walked to the bathroom and started the shower, waiting for it to warm. She stepped back out and put her flash drive into her computer, clicking on a file named Gary.Science and opening her science report. She read it over one last time and saved it. It wasn't perfect but it would bring her grade up.

The room started to fill with warmth as the shower finally had heated up. She slid open the door to the bathroom and walked in, pulling off her tank-top and washing the dye out of hair. She quickly towl dried it and brushed it, throwing on her shirt, tucking it into the jeans she was wearing. She ran to her room and put the flash drive in her binder as she picked up her back pack and flew out the door, ignoring her screaming mother as she left.

Sierra threw her bag into the back of the old 86 crew cab her dad had given her and started the car, driving away to her demise that others called high school. She was sixteen and a sophomore at Woodford Highschool.

The bell rang right as she entered her first class, home-ec. She sad down and pulled out a book. She had just been transferred to that class and was unable to start the project so she had nothing to do but read. Everyone else pulled out their half finished pillow cases as the teacher began to take roll. After that, the room filled with the dull buzzing of sewing machines and the chatter of annoying preps until it was broken by laughter from a group of kids behind her as she was hit with an eraser, like usual. She threw the eraser back and tried to ignore the girls but couldn't. She done taking there crap. She turned around and yelled at them. "Bitch! When in the name of hell are you going to grow up and get a life that doesn't involve messing with someone else's!?" That was it. The teacher heard ane wrote her a note, sending her to the principal. This was going to be the death of her, she knew. Her mom would beat her half to death and her dad and brother wouldn't be there to help her anymore. It was over, because in that moment, she wasn't thinking. She turned down the senior hall and ran to the door that the jocks used to sneak out and smoke. She burst out and looked around, choosing a direction to run, but choosing the worst one possible. She turned the corner and was met with a group of 4 large football players. Her eyes widened and she turned to run but was stopped by one named Randy. He pushed her the the ground and kicked her, staring down at her as she tried to push herself up. "What do you think you're doing messing with us, you little nobody?" He said, kicking her down again. She coughed but couldn't answer from the lack of air in her lungs, only resulting in more kicking, the other boys joining in. One of picked up the note that had fallen from her hand. "Aww, little low life got in trouble. Maybe we should just punish you instead." She felt one of them lift her up, pushing her against a wall. A heavy fist collided with her stomach, causing her next cough to be filled with a metalic taste. The bell rang, cutting of the groups 'fun' and they ran, not wanting to miss another class. She layed coughing on the ground, red dots filling her vision.