Broken

Chapter 1- Meeting Hope

        Hope's POV:

Nothing. That's what I feel. That what I am to others. Nothing. Pain is one thing that never leaves me, you see. I have experienced it enough times to numb it down until it's like a dull stinging sensation within me. I would have resorted to cutting, but that would have made a mess, I think getting beaten up is easier to deal with. A little foundation, here and there, and voilà, a freshly covered bruise or cut (depending on his mood).

Now, you're probably wondering who he is. Well, let me tell you. There are two hes. I'll tell you about the first he now.

This "he", has been with me all my life, other than the short period of time when the army was in desparate need for more men on the frontlines. Let's just say, he was the sweetest and kindest man on Earth. I truly loved him, maybe I still do, but he's become a monster now so any amount of love I ever felt for him was definitely gone, but it's hard to let go of someone who been with you as you grew. As you had your first scrape. As you had your first boy trouble. He was there when I brought my first boyfriend home, and was there to scare the shit out of him with his overprotectiveness. He was loving. Key word: WAS. No point crying over spilt milk, especially if it's now rotten, but that milk had nutritional value, or more like, that man was the biggest part of my life, he made it seem everything was right.

He changed because of the gas. He got amnesia, and guess what? He forgot who I was, he forgot how poorly his wife was feeling. He forgot his wife was about to die due to her terminal illness, before he went to the army any ways. He remembered me as her caretaker. As the one who couldn't actually take care. He blames me for her death.

My mother's death.

My father blames me.

Torments me.

Causes me pain.

My father...