Evelyn 'Eva' Monroe grew up with the stale smell of beer like it was baby cologne, with the sounds of shattered glass and vases like an old vinyl played regularly.
She grew up with the sight of her father's rage raining down mercilessly on her mother like they were goodnight kisses.
This is Eva's world â her concept of normalcy. The only type of 'home' she knows and believes to exist.
Fast forward to junior year of high-school, where gullible Eva meets the notorious Vincent Dyer.
Will she ever open her eyes to what else the world can offer, or will she be doomed to the curse of the abuse cycle, settling for the kind of man she was raised by?
After all, don't we only accept the love we think we deserve?
this book is for the torn and the frayed. this book is for the wayward souls who've built empires of hope only to watch them crumble to dust every time.
this book is for those whose hearts are windows, closed and bolted, unable to let in joy, and happiness and all things beautiful â stained glasses cracked beyond recognition.
this is to remind you that light does shine through broken windows, in those little beautiful streams of a heavenly sort of glow that fights its way to the inside through those ugly cracks.
you. are. beautiful. right down to your soul and your bones.
and don't you let anyone tell you otherwise.
It was the fourth of July. And six year old Evelyn Monroe could hear the fireworks in the distance.
She didn't light up any firecrackers. Its not that she wondered why she didn't do it â she wondered why the others did.
Eva could hear the noises of the kids in the neighbourhood; they were all awake. They seemed to be having fun. She didn't know why. Because here she was, lying in her bed, trying to sleep, just like any other night. But it didn't seem like any other night to the others.
She thought she remembered her class teacher say something about this day but she couldn't remember. Which was funny, because Eva had quite a good memory power.
Crash.
Eva's heart skipped a beat.
And then she remembered. Today was a special day â a holiday. Her mother hated the holidays but Eva didn't know why. She didn't understand that her mother hated them because her father had an excuse to be drunk out of his mind. She didn't know that things were bad enough when he was just drunk â which was almost every day â and that things were only worse when he was wholly and utterly wasted. She was still too young to understand.
There was another crash and Eva sat up, her faded nightgown riding up her skinny legs as she halfheartedly slipped off the edge of the bed. She left her room, her small feet moving soundlessly towards the corner of the hallway where the wall and the edge of the top of the staircase met.
She sat, and through the banisters, she watched the scene unfolding below.
Her dad broke her mum's favourite vase, swinging it wildly and aimlessly, but the sound was drowned out by the fireworks exploding in the sky.
And then her father moved towards her mother who was cowering on the floor, a small trail of red liquid running from the corner of her lip down her chin.
This was normal to Eva. This was usual. Ordinary.
But it still pulled at her stomach, it still made her heartbeats race.
Maybe it was because she didn't really like watching her Mum get hurt, but there was nothing to be done. This happened everyday. This was normal.
She watched wordlessly, unflinchingly, as her father's arm drew back and was suddenly thrust forward, his clenched fist creating a sickening but all too familiar sound as it came in contact with her mother's jaw, the sheer force if it whipping her delicate head to the side.
Eva was sure it happened in other homes too. But she wasn't supposed to tell anything. That's what her dad whispered in her ear every night before she fell asleep â to never speak of it.
It had become her mantra, her talisman of sorts.
I'll never tell. I'll never tell. I'll never tell.
And Eva never did.
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Written ; 09th February 2016
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A/N : [2019 edit: this A/N is one I wrote in 2016 but I figured I'd rather leave it as it is instead of removing it]
Thank you so, so much for giving this book a shot. I promise you it'll be worth it.
This book will have frequent chapters, albeit short.
Just a warning before I begin posting the chapters: this book will be written as raw as I possibly can write it.
There will be really explicit scenes, maybe going down to details and I'll mention it at the beginning of the chapter in case some of you would prefer sipping the darker, more violent scenes. Trust me, it'll be hard for me to write it as brutally too, but I need to. I don't feel like people really understand the abuse cycle and how easily overlooked it is.
Its an awareness I want to help spread with something I'm passionate of -- writing.
I have never believed and will never believe, that everything consists of plain black and plain white.
Grey; that's all there is. Shades and shades and overwhelming shades of never ending grey. So please bare in mind that I'm not -- and I repeat -- I am not justifying my characters judgements, actions and words.
I do not justify. I only emphasise that at the end of the day, we are all helplessly, undoubtedly and irrevocably human.
My characters are not me. Their beliefs are not my beliefs. Their viewpoints are not my viewpoint. You want to get pissed at the characters at certain moments? No problem. There are times I want to thrust my arms into the screen/book and throttle the characters to death in other stories I read. Seriously.
You know what I don't do? I don't hate the author for it. So, please, please, dear potential reader, don't hate me for the actions of my characters. I want to make them as real as I can so please support me and help me do just that :)
Thank you so much, really, for even bothering to click on this book. I will cherish every vote, every read, very comment :) I mean it. Really. Thank you.
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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
© LADYLITERAL
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