Heyy, this is something I wrote a while il y a for Emmett and Rosalie, please commentaire there will be plus chapters :) x



OK, let me just get this out now, I am NOT a vampire, I want to be, I wish I was but I am not. Well not yet anyway. I can tell toi my story so far. My life. I can’t promise that it was the best life ever lived, actually it was bad, horrible and just down right crap, and I’m only 12. My life got better eventually though and when I have donné toi all my past information then toi can choose if toi want to live the rest of my life with me ou not. My name is Caitlyn Aimee Mailan and I am 12, this is my story, this is my life.

So, until I was five I had a normal happy life, one that toi would expect a young child too have. Then my parents snapped, they went crazy, I don’t know what happed, one jour they were fine the suivant jour my mother turned into an alcoholic and my father into a drug addict but on haut, retour au début of that they both turned extremely abusive. I had been neglected, I hardly ever went to school, if I wanted nourriture then I had to find it myself I was filthy and beaten for no reason. I grew up like that.

My mother was almost always drunk and that meant trouble I would hide in my room trying to make myself invisible so she couldn’t find me but she always did.
“Caitlyn, toi stupid little chienne where the hell are you?” She would scream at me stomping up the stairs normally holding a bottle of vodka ou whiskey. I had never done anything but she didn’t care, nothing could stop her. She would drag me from under my lit par my hair and punch, kick and slap me. I was too scared to tell anyone and my bruises were covered par my clothing and any that weren’t I would make up excuses that I had fallen ou walked into a door. I left when I was 11, It was two months until my birthday. My father was off taking a various different types of drugs and my mother going back downstairs after having another balançoire, swing at me, I was lay on my rose carpet that was thick with dust blood dripping from the cut across my cheek when I made up my mind. I pulled myself too my feet and limped slowly down the stairs out of the door of our small house and walked away without looking back. I took nothing with me, there was nothing worth bringing. For the suivant mois I was on my own, getting nourriture when I could- which wasn’t very often- and trying to survive. No one would take me in and I gave up trying to find somewhere else to call home. It was two weeks before my birthday and I hadn’t eaten in a week.

I was sat against the mur in a dark alley where no one could see me unless they looked hard. I saw too people stop and look towards me, then they started to déplacer towards me. I didn’t care who they were ou what they wanted, I just wanted to die, I was cold and hungry and too weak to move. My head fell vers l'avant, vers l’avant towards my knees and I started shaking.