THIS IS JUST A SAMPLE WITH 20+ CHAPTERS, the book is not fully uploaded here.
On that note, as many have complained about this before... Let me say few words first. Some might be offensive for those who can find themselves inside.
I can't stop you from writing nasty comments. But I don't read them, so don't feel surprised when I ignore you. Hell â I don't even listen to my sister when she complains right next to me, so why would I listen to a stranger telling me to die or whatnot?
This book isn't perfect, period. If you don't like it, then don't - I've also many books I dislike, so I get you.
But I ain't as rude as you to actually go and bully authors because of it - and never will I actually do such a childish thing. Just because I dislike something or am not satisfied with it (and God knows how many books I've been unhappy with, especially endings or never getting to read them because they've never been published) doesn't mean I'll scorn someone just because it's not up to my taste.
Ok, end of complaints:
This is, so to say, the first book I ever wrote and finished here on wattpad. I found about wattpad around few years ago and I don't regret a single step I've made ever since. I do not come from wealthy family and one time, my mom was diagnosed with cancer (she's alright, don't worry). At those moments, I was afraid and began to think of how to deal with it.
Somehow, with that as my setting stone, inspiration for this book has been created.
I started writing it few years ago in 2014th, I think. It was quite a mess back then, I was by no means a writer â forget about being experienced one at that matter. My first chapters had only around 1000 words haha. I still remembered comments, votes and messages I got from my readers, how shady and full of typos my first draft was and how close I was to giving up. This book has been edited around 10 times since then and it finally became what it is at the moment. And even now, as it gets more and more readers I get feedback from, I'm happy. Happy that there are people out there reading my stuff.
So thank you from choosing this book as your next one to read. And for embarking on this journey with Kaley, protagonist of this book.
Enjoy the story.
Sincerely,
Ayla D. Viktoreva
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I hated winter, or no. It was the snow that I hated.
Considering how I've been living in Seattle my entire life, the snow was something I rarely ever saw, maybe only six times in my entire existence. I used to love watching snowflakes fall to the ground and form an endless layer of white on our city. I loved it . . . until two years ago.
It is laughable how everything you ever knew and had could be gone in the next second. I still remember that night like it was yesterday. The arguments between me and my parents, my little brother crying, my father turning around, and the crash.
I was driving with my parents and four-year-old brother, going out for a family dinner I didn't want to go to. I couldn't keep quiet. Being a rebellious teenager, I just had to protest. Even now I wonder if I had done something differentlyâif only I had kept quiet or somethingâwould they have survived? Would Mom and Dad have survived?
I'll regret my actions for the rest of my life, for they died because of me being a stubborn brat. They say that the rain washes away your burdens, your dislikes, scars, and tears that you did not want to shed. But what was the meaning of snow then? On that snowy night, I had a feeling that every single snowflake falling down on the ground brought along chains that would tie me to my burden for eternity. The scene was sickeningly beautiful and hollow, terrifying and painful. Unknown, but still somehow familiar down in the depths of my soul. The cries of my brother were the only thing telling me that it was real. My parents were far beyond my reach. Everything seemed monochrome. Nothing was too distinguishable except for the color red. Blood. Their blood . . . It was all my fault.
By the time I had lost consciousness, I could not even feel pain anymore. All I could remember were the familiar snowflakes I used to love and the light of sirens from help that arrived too late. I could no longer even hear my brother cry. I could not even think as I pulled him closer to me, trying to protect him in case something happened, regardless if it was of any use or not. Back then, I truly believed that I wouldn't survive. It wouldn't be fair, anyway. Why was it me that survived while they died? Why would someone responsible for the car accident be okay and not them? I couldn't imagine that happening, I couldn't live with it. But I have. I had to.
Because aside from me, my little brother, Ayden, also survived. I don't know how we managed. Those memories had long become a sepia film I can no longer recognize nor sympathize with. It doesn't even seem like my own life when I look back on those two years. I only knew that Ayden became my life ever since. Nothing mattered to me but him. I'd buried these regrets deep in my heart until the day when he could live on his own. Then I could continue from where I left.
I cried. I won't say that their death didn't affect me at all. They were people who raised me, who took care of me and who dearly loved meâwhom I also dearly loved back. I had cried so hard until their funeral just passed by that I almost forgot how to do it anymore.
When I first woke up in the hospital after the accident, the police detectives investigating the crash informed me that the case was closed. There was a witness and video evidence that a lone drunken driver caused the accident. He had also lost his life in that collision. Both ours and his car had completely crashed on the front sides. But I firmly believed that I was another sinner that managed to get away from it. Guilt worked like that. Logic and reason couldn't interfere. Even breathing became a shackle reminding me of my sin. I did visit help, but words from other people that were not involved in this case were meaningless to me. My apologies and cries could not reach my parents.
As I looked in the mirror, my hands were not clean, but stained with red. With blood. Their blood flowing from their unmoving bodies. Ayden's cries echoed even more in that small space of our mangled car. It was the everlasting nightmare I couldn't get rid of even now, after two years.
Having turned eighteen two months ago, I became Ayden's legal guardian. I skipped a grade, graduated early and temporarily shelved my dreams of going to college. My focus was on providing Ayden a loving, stable and happy home.
My teachers back then used to tell me that I had a great future in art. I used to paint with a passion, but all I could think of when concentrating now were the lifeless bodies of my parents. I was applying for college scholarships that give students with no financial security a yearly bursary to live on, but I doubted that I was going to make it.
I have never met my grandparents. Mom and Dad told me that they died in the war and both my parents were orphans when they first met. But I don't want you to think Ayden and I were all alone in this world. We had a loving aunt and uncle. Or so we thought.
While Mom and Dad were still alive, they used to come by all the time. They even brought generous gifts for special occasions. Which was why when our parents died, I thought Ayden and I were going to move in with them, but they had other plans. They convinced social services to leave us in their care so that they could look after us at home. They arranged it so the bank and insurance companies gave them full control of our legacy. And as soon as my aunts got their hands on our money, they disappeared into thin air like magicians. They have been living it up since then. They shopped in the most exclusive designer shops, skied in Aspen or went cruising for months on end in the Caribbean.
It was the worst betrayal I had faced in my eighteen years of existence.
I couldn't say a word. I was still a minor and I feared what they would do if I complained. They might have given us to social workers and I could have been separated from Ayden. I could take anything but a life without him. Without him, I was as good as dead. I had no best friends, only the people convenient to have around. Youth was like that; you just hang out with like-minded peers. Ayden was the only person remaining that I had a bond with.
Since my aunt sold our house and rented us a single store house, it has become our new home. For some reason, social workers never bothered to visit us. It was better that way, perhaps. That would mean that no one would take Ayden from me.
It was selfish, but it was also the only thing my childish self could do at that moment. I was young and stupid. I had lost much, but didn't want to lose anything else. I wanted to embrace what was in front of me. With my small hands, I tried to protect the last that was left of my family. Now that I think of it, maybe it would've been better had I just let him go. I might have been Ayden's calamity.
In our new home, Ayden only had a single bedroom that we shared. He also had a reading desk, a cherished old computer that he played games or learned English on. We couldn't afford much. I hated that he had to live that way, so I worked part-time in order to make up for him. Even so, it was more than enough to appreciate having my brother alive and by my side. It was not perfect, but I could manage the rent, bills and have learned to live with my small income.
Ayden and I have settled into a routine. Neither of us ever mentioned our parents after their funeral. My mom often used to quote someone and explain to us the meaning of those words. Both Ayden and I loved this game that we played with her, while she was still alive. Had she still been around, she would have reminded me that the sea is always calm before the storm. That indeed was very true, and I had to learn it the hard way. The way that would either leave me with nothing to embrace, or guide me to understand the true joy of being alive.