Stripping Callum (Last Hangman MC Book 6)
Muriel Garcia
The day I was born, I became a weapon to be used To be mentally and physically abused.
To learn to be quiet, to learn to be sorry.
To learn to be aware, to learn only to worry.
The day I was born, I learned to only see
To never say a word and only plea.
Not only for me, but for my mom.
But my voice to help her was only ever numb.
The day I was born, I should have died.
To this day, I still have to hide.
To have a secret and never tell.
Only hiding the truth until I can dwell.
The day I was born, I had to protect
To make sure Mom and me wasn’t a project.
To see my mom black and blue.
Being too young to say I haven’t a clue.
The day I was born my mom breathed
To never hide anything you see, never from me.
To tell her would mean a beating from him.
Only to me to hide it would mean her face would be clean.
The day I was born, I knew I came from good and evil.
To me to become the good, I had to beat the devil.
To me I have to give and give.
Then I can really try to live.
Written by Karen
Thank you for sticking with me through this journey.
We’re almost at the end of the Last Hangman MC Series and i’m not ready to say goodbye.
This book is for you.
Thank you for believing in me!
Annabella
January 16, 2012
Coffee shops. There’s something about them. The smell, the atmosphere, the buzzing of people coming and going as they carry on with their day before or after work, needing their coffee fix before facing life’s daily adversities and challenges.
I love coffee shops. I don’t get to spend much time in them. Not because I don’t like coffee, but because they’re usually crazy expensive and I don’t have much money to spare, but today I decided to splurge and allow myself to have a hot chocolate and a piece of cake.
I take a long sip of my hot chocolate and smile at the scent filling my nose and the warm liquid filling my stomach. Bump must enjoy it too because I feel him kick. I rub over the spot where he kicked, and I feel him kick again.
I always thought it would be hella weird when I’d be pregnant and feel the baby kick for the first time, and to be honest, I freaked out. I had no idea what was going on, and it happened in the middle of my shift. Thankfully, my boss had been through three pregnancies so she helped me relax and reassured me.
Being seventeen, a runaway, and pregnant isn’t necessarily the easiest thing. I didn’t have a mother to tell me all those things about what it is to have a baby, and I didn’t particularly pay attention in class. So, any changes that went along with being pregnant worried me and freaked me out. I’m glad that on my way to New Orleans I met some amazing people who have been so kind and helpful to me these past seven months. I don’t know what I would have done without their help. Some of them helped me with a roof over my head and a job, some helped me with transports; some simply spent time with me and made me feel less lonely in this world.
Compared to some people I’ve had it easy. But when you’re in your own little world and stuck in a dire situation, you feel like the entire world is against you and you don’t know how to overcome what’s thrown at you.
My world ended when I was six, on a warm sunny July day. I was at my aunt’s for two weeks while my parents’ were going to the Bahamas to celebrate their tenth wedding anniversary. I was sad that I couldn’t go with them, but they promised to call me every day and we would Skype so it made it a little better.
We had dropped them off at the airport a few hours prior to that, and I was playing with my aunt, Lilian, in the pool. Her phone rang, and she left me to play in the shallow end with my floaters.
She screamed, cried, and fell to her knees on the patio. I rushed out and ran to her, my floaters still around my arms. I didn’t know what was going on, but I knew it was bad. My aunt was the happiest woman ever, after my mom.
She hung up the phone and pulled me in her arms.
“What’s wrong, Lili?” I asked her as she was crying while holding onto me for dear life. It took her a few minutes before she could mutter the words I never wanted to hear.
“I’m so sorry, baby girl. Th-there’s been an accident,” she sobbed while rubbing my back. I know I was just six when it happened, but I knew, I just knew what she meant.
I knew my parents were dead.
I knew I’d never hear them again.
I knew I’d never see them again.
The plane crashed mid-way to its destination. There was a problem with the engine, and the plane crashed into the ocean. There were no survivors.
I was angry at the world. Why did God have to take my parents’ away from me? Was I a bad child? I thought it was a punishment to me because I had been misbehaving. It took my aunt and a child psychiatrist to help me out of my self-loathing period where I was blaming myself for my parents’ death.
My aunt got custody of me, and even though I hated myself and life in general, I was grateful that I was staying with her. She became a second mom to me, and she was amazing at making me feel better.