1 - Aella

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Hey everyone! It's so good to finally be back with a new book.

I've been working on this book for the past month and I've been waiting for the perfect opportunity to publish the first few chapters so I thought since it's my favourite hooman's birthday, I'd update the first two chapters of the story.

She has been my S.O since forever and I can't express how thankful I am for having her in my life and since she loves books and I'm too broke to buy her one... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Happy Birthday, Honey. You mean the world to me❤
~Shree, 12:00 a.m., 29th December 2019

Aella means warrior. Fighter, badass, rough and tough, a person who can never be brought down.

That's what my dad loved the most about the name. And that is precisely why he decided to give me that name when I was born.

He believed I would grow up to be fiercely independent, red-blooded and tough, exactly how a gangleader's daughter should be.

And I did not disappoint him.

The etymology of my name kept wandering around my head like this as I wrote down my name on the chemistry quiz sheet. My eyes trailed down to the questions and the numbers seemed to blur together. I pressed my eyes shut and then opened them again.

I hadn't got any sleep the previous night and I'd barely made my way out of my bed today morning.

I quickly scribbled down whatever I knew, and whatever I could see before the bell rang and I handed the paper in. I picked up my bag and headed out of the class. I was waiting for the day to be over.

I shut my locker, a loud bang echoing over the voices of all the students crawling in and out of the hallways of the school. I checked my watch.
Three hours for school to end.

I gripped the books in my hand tightly as I strode over to the cafeteria. I would grab something to eat real quick.

I stepped into the cafeteria when I saw Vanessa Carlson laughing at some poor guy lying on the floor of the cafeteria. My jaw clenched in anger and I clenched my fists. I hated bullies. I hated bullies since third grade.

My hate for bullies arose because of Marcus Black in third grade. He stole my lunch money and always used to corner me during lunch. I was nothing but a toy for him and his stupid friends to ridicule to please their pea-sized third grade brains.

But I was taught the same thing since I learnt how to talk.

Don't get too close to anybody. Don't talk unnecessarily. Don't give information unnecessarily.

I used to ignore all of Marcus's attics. I used to ignore those stupid friends of his. Even in third grade, his dark eyes shone with a sort of sadism whenever he preyed on the weak.

But he knew I wasn't weak.

He was just looking for a way to break me.

Marcus Black moved away in fifth grade because he had tried to kill the class' pet hamster, followed by trying to light the plants in the greenhouse on fire. On the day that he left, he told me that he'd be back one day and had left with a smirk on his face.

I had stayed silent in my seat. Just like my father had told me to. Ignore. Don't talk. I clenched my fists when I saw the stupid smirk and didn't want anything more than rubbing it off of his stupid face.

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