Forki One-Shots

Vents

Sorry about the title. I'm not sure exactly what I wrote, so it's hard to give it a good name.

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The last place I expected to be at was my wedding. Weird, I know. It was just that, growing up, I did not want to get married. My parents were always fighting, leaving us four kids starved for attention. And as the oldest, I wanted nothing more than to get out of there. 

The fighting got more intense as we got older. It got even more worse as we got closer to my parents' divorce, when I was fifteen. More often than not, the fights would become physical. Glass vases and metal pots would learn to fly as my parents took out their anger on  each other-and us. 

Part of the reason they fought so much was because money was tight. My parents had me in high school, so they never got the opportunity to study for better jobs. No wonder they blamed me for their lives being so bad. 

To make more money, my father sold me. I was only fourteen when he started. The men he sold me to were rough, and hurt me just as much as my parents' hurtful words and flying frying pans. I became depressed and suicidal. Yet it was because of that suicidalness that the prostitution stopped. After an especially long and painful night, I was walking past a bridge when I decided to end it. End my life. End the pain. End everything. I was just about to jump when someone stopped me-a female cop with a kind smile and gold nails. 

"Sweetheart, don't,"she said.

"Why?"I replied.

"You have so much to offer the world."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do. You have your whole life in front of you. You have the potential to be anything, to succeed."

"At what? Selling myself?"

"Baby, what are you talking about?"

It all tumbled out. Crying, I told the cop about my parents fighting, their divorce (I was 17 when this incident happened), my father selling me, and my depression and suicidalness. 

"Sweetie, I'm glad you told me this,"she said,"because now it can end."

I laughed."Yeah, right."

"I'm serious."

She pulled out her radio and spoke to someone. My heart stopped as several police cars pulled up to where we were. My heart sank as I realized what has happened. I had ratted out my father.

Seriously, I need to die.

The next few days were a blur. I stayed at my mother's place, locked up in a spare bedroom. She had no idea how to help, except by offering free babysitting if I got pregnant and had a baby (no). The police chased my father all around Florida and finally caught up with him in Orlando. But then he jumped off a highway and killed himself. I'm glad he died. I didn't have the strength to face him. 

The minute I turned 18 and graduated high school, I left and moved to Nashville.I needed a fresh start. Also, I was tired of Stan, my mom's boyfriend. 

And it was in Nashville that I met Luke James Smallbone. We became best friends after bumping into each other-quite literally- at Trixie's Treats. Surprisingly, he accepted me for who I was. He allowed me to scream and take out my anger. He allowed me to cry until his shirt was soaked. 

And slowly, we became more than just friends. We began to date. He proposed, and we got engaged. And now we're getting married. (In like twenty seconds.)

So if you'll excuse me, I have wedding to do. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Sorry it's so crappy. I just wrote whatever came to my head. And sorry that it took so long. I've been busy.