1. I Shouldn't Feel This Way- Chapter 1


    Date: 11/12/2017, Categories: Taboo, Author: SweetestSins, Source: LushStories

    Prologue April 7, 2011 2:00 a.m. I am a runaway, lost at sea. I am a broken bird, yearning to fly free. I am a sinner, unworthy and unholy. I am a rose, wilting slowly. I am a raindrop, touching your cheek. I am a child who plays hide and seek. I am nothing, and yet I am everything. I am contradiction and complexities. I am a face with a hundred entities. I am love and I am hate. I am the voice that cannot communicate. I am a melody, haunting and sad. I am a soul that has slowly gone mad. I am death in a living body. I am a dangerous opium poppy. I am rage, running through my veins. I am pain, bound in chains. I am isolation, imprisoned in my mind. I am abandoned and left behind. I am tenderness, soft and kind. I am trust, naïve and blind. I am remorse, shattered and frozen. I am the path I have not chosen. I am sadness, drowning in an ocean I am faith, yearning for devotion I am madness, rebellious and wild. I am sanity, safely filed. I am wisdom, cursed and blessed. I am a name that will burn in your chest. I am a journey, destination unknown. I am a heart turned to stone. I am forever alone … … Forever alone. One last tear drop smudged her diary before she closed it shut, and turned out the lamp. CHAPTER ONE When I tell people how old my parents are, they usually end up laughing, thinking that I’m joking or pulling their leg. And when I tell them I’m not, I get the following reaction: “Oh … okay …” and then an awkward silence. Everything feels uncomfortable afterward, ...
    like I have to explain how that happened. My mom and dad were young when they had me—sixteen, to be exact. Most people would ask themselves, “What the hell were they thinking having sex at that age? What kind of households were they raised in?” Well, when you’re a horny, hormonal teenager and not practicing safe sex, pregnancy can happen no matter your upbringing. Emily Rose Miller and Noah Mason Hunter welcomed their first-born child to the world on April 6, 1995: a healthy baby girl who had her father’s ocean eyes and a head full of dark brown hair. They named her Aria Sophia Hunter. And that little girl … was me. For the first four years of my life, I lived with my maternal grandparents. My father came from a very wealthy family, and they were against the pregnancy from the moment they found out about it. They offered my mom’s parents a great deal of money to persuade my mother to get an abortion. But that didn’t happen because Grams and Granddad were strict, God-fearing Catholics. And although they were disappointed in their daughter, they weren’t going to let her abort me, regardless of the extra figures that were added on those personal checks. The plan was to give me up for adoption after I was born, but as soon as my grandma held me in her arms, she fell in love. I was raised by my grandparents for a while and rarely ever saw my mom … never saw my dad either. Emily was too busy being a teenager instead of taking responsibility and caring for me. Gran always had to remind ...
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