[Book #1 in the Survivors Series]
With a soft hand, he tilted my chin up to meet his gaze. His eyes were a piercing brown that I barely recognized, though I had seen them many times before.
"Wolves mate for life." he pulled me closer, his hand reach...
The picture above is of Kade. He's an...interesting child to say the least...
Once again the chapter will have mentions of abuse, not as much as the first chapter though. So try to mentally prepare yourself for people hurting my poor smol baby :( it hurts me too guys.
(TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️ mentions of rape and almost rape.)
~HarleyVB
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Adrian's POV
I felt the heal of his boot dig into my side, his anger released onto my weak body. He continued to stomp until my skin looked like a canvas covered in dark blue and purple paints. My legs were sore from kicking in protest, as well as my arms. I let my head fall to the ground, my body giving up.
"Little shit," he spat, slamming my head against the ground.
He gave one last forceful kick, keeping his foot on me and pinning me down. He then quickly strode towards the door and slammed it so hard the furniture shook for a second. I tried to stand up at first, but my body protested and made me lay on the floor. It felt like hours had passed until I was finally able to get to my feet.
My head ached and so did everything else.
I stared at myself in the mirror, wiping the blood from my split open lip.
I was ugly. My hair was a mess, most likely from struggling and trying to get away. The rest of my face was pale and it looked like I hadn't had a proper meal for months. My green eyes were empty, though they once held light and happiness.
"I hate you." I said quietly, tears starting to make their way to my face.
I yelled at my reflection, as if it would be able to scream more spiteful words back at me. I just repeated all the things that I had heard when I was being beaten.
After a while, I got too tired to keep yelling at myself. I fell onto my bed, the thin sheets underneath me getting tangled in my legs.
My eyes went to my side table that held a small picture frame, I gently picked it up and held it carefully in my hands. I remembered that day perfectly, my mom and dad had taken me fishing for the first time. Mom wore a ridiculously big sun hat that shadowed her face and made it nearly invisible in the picture. Dad stood behind me, his hands on my shoulders and head peaking out from the crook of my neck, a giant grin plastered on his face. He never smiled like that anymore. I had caught an assortment of small fish that day, one of which was dangling from a fishing line in the photo. My face was turned to look at the small thing on the hook, worry for the flopping fish was all that I was focused on.
Right now, I felt like that small fish stuck on the line.
My mom had died not long after that day. Though it was a year or two after, it felt like it had happened much sooner. Dad didn't know what to do with himself when we left us, he would just sit and clutch the small necklace she always wore. I had just started the 9th grade when he first began to abuse me. At first it was just him barking at me once and a while, but it gradually got worse. By the time I was starting high school I had to find new ways to hide the bruises on my face. Teachers no longer believed the usual lies, such as 'I tripped and scraped myself up' or 'I fell out of a tree'. When I got my first black eye, I pulled my hood over my face and covered my eye with my hand when I was told to take it off.
