my little sister was born

anonymous asked:

(1) Hi Viria, I hope you are well :) I am sorry to bother you with this, but it's really important for me, and I wanted to share it with you. It'll be long and kinda sad at first, but it gets better, trust me. I'm a 23 y/o latina art student. When I was a baby, my mom left my dad and remarried, and my little sister was born when I was 10. She is the light of my life and I love her to no end. Our mom, however, had had and undiagnosed and untreated mental illness for years, and one day

(2) during a severe crisis she hurt us really bad. I was 12. She was taken away to a psychiatric hospital and Child Services prohibited her from ever getting near us again. Since then, I have been taking care of my little sister and practically raised her while my stepdad worked 2-3 shifts to afford our education and payment for my mom’s hospital, living and meds. He was always working and I took full responsibility for my sis. As you can imagine, even though I loved her with my life, 

 (3) the situation was very stressful and exhausting for me. By the time I was 15, I looked every bit a teen mom. One particularly hard night when my little sis had been crying about mom, I couldn’t sleep. So I turned to something that calmed me: the Harry Potter books. I read them online, and somehow ended up searching for HP fanart. That was the night I stumbled upon your DA account. And boy, did I love it! I know back in 2011 your skills weren’t what they are now,

(4) but I was blown away, and what’s more, I felt inspired to draw. I had never tried to make any art before; it wasn’t “my thing”. But that night, you inspired me. As time went by I kept drawing and closely followed your improvements. Your art was so relaxing, calming, and inspiring, that it really helped me during hard times. You kinda dragged me into all the cool fandoms, series and animes, and I found life to be far more bearable with so many awesome things to love and think about.

(5) Your DA and Tumblr were some sort of safe sapce for me. It always cheered me up and gave me joy, peace, inspiration. When the time came, I choose to study Art at college. It turned out you did too, and you kept up all the good stuff in your blogs. Weirdly enough, I kept feeling a sense of pride whenever you improved and got better. I was so strange that you were so so far away and didn’t even know I existed but you helped me so much.

(6) I got accepted at my country’s top University to study Fine Arts; I moved cities and took my sister with me; she grew into a wonderful, sensible, peaceful child, and her presence motivated me to be the best version of myself, while your art motivated me to keep expanding my academic/artistic abilities. Life was hard but good at college, and I had incredible opportunities. I am graduating this spring with an advanced studies specialization, and was recently hired to work at

(7) of a movie. It’s like living a dream. And tonight, just a couple hours ago, the most incredible thing happened. After dinner, my little sis came to me, phone in hand, and said “Hey Ana, you won’t believe what I found. There’s this girl who makes amazing art of all the fandoms you’re in. Her drawings are gorgeous and she has so many!”. She showed me your tumblr. I wanted to laugh and cry. She was amazed when she saw your old drawings and your current ones; speechless.

(8) She fell in love, and you know what? Immediatly after, she went to draw. She’s been doing so the past hours. I know this was offensively long, but Viria, I needed to thank you for what you did. Your art has always been SO much more than just digital drawings of fictional characters. It’s been the source of peace, safety and joy that so many of us crave. You have wonderfully impacted and influenced many people across the world with everything you make.

(9) I am so glad you exist and do what you do; you gave me the hobby that grew into my passion, thaught me so much, inspired me beyond belief and most of all, you helped make life more bearable. And now, you have made the same for my sister. Viria, the world wouldn’t be the same without you. You are truly a magnificent light among us, and for your existence and passion I’ll be forever grateful. Thank you, and may you always live the beautiful, happy, awesome life you deserve. Thank you.

I’m not even kidding I was sitting here peacefully chewing sandwich and by the end of these messages the sandwich was too salty so was my cappuccino I swear you got me to tears and now i’m just like

I’m a shaking emotional leaf but thank you so much for writing me! It means so much and i’m so touched and i just wish you and your sister all the best of luck, though it seems like you don’t really need it. Thank you, and I hope life goes wonderfully for you and your family! 


I’m now almost 2 and a half hours into the next day, technically, but I had to celebrate my bab’s bday (april 21.) with a bunch of sketches! better late than never, right?


What should you know about me?

My name is Cecilia, my friends often call me Ceci or Cece. Its actually my middle name, because my first one is unpronounceable for non-spanish speakers (Eugenia)
I was born in May 14th 1992, Im a Taurus, though I dont really believe in horoscopes. My numbers are 4, 8 and 19.

The number 4 is for February 4th 1998. The date my best friend was born, my little sister. Is a really bittersweet number, because life has taken her from me in the most ruthless way someone can possibly imagine.

With 8 is the same, She died June 8th 2010, its a number that haunts me, that I want to make sense to it but I never can. Is the number I have tattooed on my arm non thinking specifically on it, I thought I was getting an infinite symbol. But a kid in school once told me, “you have an 8 there”, and he is right, I have it, and I cant erase it from my life.

Why the infinite symbol? it wasnt because it was trendy, though I love it. It is because I have emotions that run wild, emotions that are rollercoasters, limitless. I have Borderline Personality Disorder. I am infinite. My emotions are, my happiness, My sadness, my love, everything that I feel I feel it so deeply, so intense it burns and it freezes and it crushes and spins my whole world. I am infinite.
And 19. 19 is my love number. Is a number so magnificent and so simple. Is the date I met the love of my life. And also happens to be the number of his birthday. it happened to be the year I moved out permanently from my parents home, and it adds up 10. 1 + 9. And somehow, in all the chaos that I feel arround all the time, I feel that conforting.

Thats why I feel 13 conforting as well, it adds up 4, my sister’s number. My best friend number, and even if i always sucked at maths, every time i encounter this numbers, or someone named Lucia or Lucy (My sister’s name) I know somehow im going to be ok. Everytime I had surgery there was a nurse, a doctor or a psychologist named Lucy, so I just know, Im being taken care of properly by my sister.

I do not know if I believe in heaven. I was raised atheist as my parents, and believing God is a human construction for our own shelter and protection, to feel less alone and vulnerable, to feel we have something greater than us. I want to believe that, but its hard to think that this God almighty, this benevolent super man would take away something so fragile and beautiful from so many souls. My soul died with my sister. Now im living trying to put the pieces together, trying my best to deal with post traumatic stress disorder because what I faced was death and horror and heartbreak in the worst kind of way. But back to heaven, I just want to believe there is something more than this, I want to believe that somehow Ill see my sister again. That Ill get to smell her hair and hold her overly warm and sometimes sweaty hands. I want to stare into those black eyes again, and hear her voice that now is long gone and I forgotten. We never think about all the things we have to pay attention to.

You also have to know Im a kind person, and that I always want to help, but I get used very easily so I have to shelter myself from people that only lay their problems out on me and wont be there when I need an ear.

I have bad health, i get sick really easily, mostly because of how depressed I get and my inmune system shutdowns leaving me alone and vulnerable.

You should know I love to sing and paint. And that Im fairly good at both things and I have many friends encouraging me to do those activities more each day, which is amazing because Ive always lacked of something called self esteem, I was severely bullied at school and with my mental disorder is just too hard for me to find a stable ground.

You should know Im an open person, a hopeless romantic and that I wont judge you for any of your choices, that if you are a good, nice and sincere person, I will stand by your side.

You should know I get frustrated easily, and that life hasnt been exactly easy or conforting for me, and when I see people complaining for things that I wouldnt even dare to imagine to have, I tend to be a lil rough. But I dont mean any harm, I just want to let people know that they should appreciate all the things they have and how hard it is for some others that werent so lucky to be born in a nice country or to have access to certain things.

You should know I love Taylor Swift and that she has been my only friend besides my sister for a long time, and that I found confort and explanations of my own feelings in her lyrics, as if I was reading my own diary.

I experieced rejection, bullying, hearbreak, love, happiness, and she was by my side. All this years.

She got to be the only one listening to my crying when my parents were living 400 kms away with my sick sister and I had to stay alone in a house, and “man up” at 15 and just be an adult even though I wish I never grown up.

She got to sing me 22 in my 22nd birthday, and She explained me that even in the toughest moments, he was the best thing thats ever been mine, and that we wont make my parents mistakes.

She got to serenade my mom and me with Best day, feeling those years when barbies and dressing up as a princess were the main activities of the day

She got to be in front of me in Tampa, in 1989 world tour, singing a song of a movie about two sisters whose love was greater than any winter. She got to sing that song to me. Yes, it is naive to think it was for me, but is also conforting and sweet, and somehow I just feel it was ment to be, for me and my sister.

You have to know im passionate, and that I will never ever stop trying to meet @taylorswift and tell her about my lil sister Lucy. I will never ever stop trying to meet her and hug her for all those endless nights crying myself to sleep next to her. I will never ever stop trying to thank her for giving me a reason on 2015 to stay alive and not try to end my life again and for helping me get the proper treatment I needed. Ill never stop trying

Those are things you should know about me, if we are gonna be friends.

anonymous asked:

I don't want to bother you but I really need help. My little sister was born blind, and she asked me what colours look like today. I donf know what to say. Please help me

Tell her that orange looks like the way she laughs, doubled over, the flesh of her cheeks, sparkling and so beautiful, it can only come from her bellied chuckles and raindrops on her tongue.

Tell her that red looks like her stubbornness, the little crinkle on her forehead, the way her hands move when she learns the world upside down, calloused and explored, the rough terrain of her mind and curiosity, fierce and strong.

Tell her that green looks like her calm, the way she lays in grass or stomps across the earth, her gooseflesh like cobblestone, her stature like a building’s, mother nature’s daughter, born perfectly from her palmed hands.

Tell her that blue looks like running your hands through washed hair, clean and pure, the smell of the rain before it pours, the sound of her sleeping and shaking hands with her daydreams, the melancholy pitter patter of her humming, of her whispering, of her at peace.

Tell her that black looks like the place she came from - something so beautiful it must’ve fallen from a loose constellation, the queen of broken moons, eyes closed and heart full, the endless possibility of seeing what she sees: infinity.

Tell her that she’s an enigma, that she’s a palette, that she’s an explosion of the universe. 

Tell her that if she’s ever missing what colors look like, to find them inside of herself.


So this is my little sister, she’s 10 years old. She was born a he but ever since she could talk has said that she wants to be a girl and today my best friend and I bought her her first actual outfit as a girl with my dad’s permission and we surprised her with her outfit and recorded her reaction. It was super cute. @mornings-of-gold

You Ain’t My Brother

Request- If requests are open, I was wondering if you could write a sis fic where reader is dean’s twin but a shape shifter takes his place and hurts reader real bad so she stays away from home for a little while?

Word Count-1316

Warning-Mild swearing

Tag- @evyiione

A/n-Just for the record requests are always open unless I say so :) Guys school is killing me at the moment but all requests will be up very soon. AND THANK YOU FOR OVER 200 FOLLOWERS!!<3

“Give them to me!” You say trying to grab the Impala keys out of Dean’s hands, but you being quite short you were having some difficulties. “Come on let me drive to the motel. “You whined stomping your foot like a little kid.

“Sorry kiddo I’m older.” Dean smiled widely flashing his teeth.

“I’m the same age as you.” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m older by 3 minutes and 24 seconds so shut up.” Dean said giving you a light punch. You returned the punch but ten times harder. “Damn (Y/n) that’s gonna bruise.” He says rubbing his arm.

“Are you two done fighting? Seriously it’s like I’m the oldest here.” Sam says throwing his duffel over his shoulder.

“Sorry Sammy.” You shrug grabbing your bag and bumping into Dean ‘by accident.’

Keep reading

I don’t want to bother you but I really need help. My little sister was born blind, and she asked me what colours look like today. I donf know what to say. Please help me"

“Tell her that orange looks like the way she laughs, doubled over, the flesh of her cheeks, sparkling and so beautiful, it can only come from her bellied chuckles and raindrops on her tongue.

Tell her that red looks like her stubbornness, the little crinkle on her forehead, the way her hands move when she learns the world upside down, calloused and explored, the rough terrain of her mind and curiosity, fierce and strong.

Tell her that green looks like her calm, the way she lays in grass or stomps across the earth, her gooseflesh like cobblestone, her stature like a building’s, mother nature’s daughter, born perfectly from her palmed hands.

Tell her that blue looks like running your hands through washed hair, clean and pure, the smell of the rain before it pours, the sound of her sleeping and shaking hands with her daydreams, the melancholy pitter patter of her humming, of her whispering, of her at peace.

Tell her that black looks like the place she came from - something so beautiful it must’ve fallen from a loose constellation, the queen of broken moons, eyes closed and heart full, the endless possibility of seeing what she sees: infinity.

Tell her that she’s an enigma, that she’s a palette, that she’s an explosion of the universe.

Tell her that if she’s ever missing what colors look like, to find them inside of herself.


response to an anonymous ask /// 


anonymous asked:

RfA reacting to MC's eyes changing color, like... Dark brown to bright yellow, for example;; ???

thank for request anon-nim.

so technically, in people with lighter coloured eyes, their irises kinda change in colour when their pupils expand, but then I remembered the story my mum told me about her little sister: when she was born, she had red hair and green eyes, but eventually the melanin in her body regulated itself (I think that’s how it works?) and her hair went black and her eyes went brown, so I’m going to write the headcanons like that. 

Background: you’re showing them your baby photos. Right at the front of your baby album is a picture of a baby with super pale skin, green eyes and hair…


  • “lol MC, did your parents not change the stock photo out?”
  • “what are you talking about Yoosung, that’s me.”
  • he can’t tell if you’re serious
  • or you’re in cahoots with seven
  • he calls your mum to confirm
  • “yes she actually looked like that. I screamed when I saw her.” (mum wtf?)
  • once that was out of the way, he marveled at the way you developed as you were growing up


  • “no way, that’s you MC!”
  • “yep”
  • he can’t stop staring at the photo, tracing your eyes and hair, as if he were in a trance
  • “this is beautiful.”
  • he looks up to you, petting your actual hair
  • “this is beautiful too. ah, I wish I had some of my baby photos to compare…” he pouts, looking back to your photos
  • “but I’m glad you want to share this with me.”


  • “is this really you?”
  • you nod as you hand her a cup of coffee
  • “how interesting.”
  • she’s grinning as she observes your baby photos
  • “even if you look different in this photo, I can still tell it’s you.”
  • you tilt your head
  • “how can you tell it’s me Jaehee?”
  • “you have the same eye shape and the same tilt of the mouth while you sleep.”

  • “do you watch me in my sleep?”
  • she looks away in embarrassment
  • red-faced Jaehee is like a shiny (keep it forever) 


  • he can’t figure it out
  • is this photoshopped?
  • did you use someone else’s photo?
  • “MC is this truly you?”
  • “contrary to popular belief, that is actually me. I was born with low melanin levels.”
  • he nods in contemplation
  • “I see. You’re still beautiful both ways.”
  • he kisses your cheek and continues looking through the album


  • he legit ran facial recognition software on the photo before he believed you
  • when he did, he threw his glasses
  • “yo babe, we match!”
  • “only temporarily Saeyoung-ie~!”
  • “but it’s still awesome that defender of justice, 707, influenced your appearance!”
  • he runs to the other couch, striking a pose (dabbing)
  • you want a divorce
  • “I’m fairly certain my parents had a bigger influence.”
  • he runs back to you and flips through the rest of the album
  • “you look like an animorph 606”
  • the divorce papers are going to hit him so fast, he’ll need reconstructive surgery


  • “you look so pretty in this photo.”
  • his voice sounded wistful?
  • then he walked off into the bedroom
  • he ran back out with his polaroid
  • took a portrait of you and placed it next to your baby photo
  • “you look beautiful in this photo.”
  • “wow Jihyun-oppa, you’re so good with adjectives.”
  • “well I need all the adjectives that exist and it still wouldn’t be enough to describe how much your beauty, all of it, makes my heart sing”
  • you had to hide your face with a pillow
  • he tugged it out of your hands and asked you to tell him the story behind each photo


  • he was at your house, and your mother was showing him your baby album
  • his eyes widened in surprise the moment he saw the front cover
  • his breath hitched
  • you looked like him
  • did someone hurt you in the way they hurt him?
  • it took sometime for him to regain his composure and look at your photo
  • this was you, these features were yours, but they didn’t define you as a person
  • “no matter what colour, your eyes are so striking. they warm my soul.” 

oh look another cheesy HC post

and this wasn’t completely focused on the eyes

one day, I’ll learn how to read

anonymous asked:

Canon call? I'm a humanstuck Meulin Leijon sorting out memories from headcanons but I know out that I did dateKurloz. I spent a lot of time with my little sister Nepeta. Our mom, Disciple, was a journalist born in France. I helped Kurloz kick a hard drug habit. When they were younger, Mituna nearly died in a skateboarding accident but Kurloz saved him. Latula and I were fairly close because our boyfriends were best friends. PM me? @tumbling---star

@tumbling—star (please send canoncalls to the main blog in the future)


~ billie fitzroy

frederick’s little sister but he’s not in my vampire save

born elizabeth valentina fitzroy, baby vampire, up to no good, doesn’t like you, allergic to blood type aa so she throws up a lot, randomly violent, nose-picker and generally unpleasant.

So I was talking to my friend yesterday, and she mentioned how her little sister who was born in 2001 is 16 this year. Which made me remember that I’m 28 this year, where did the time go. And in two years I’m 30 and that is slightly terrifying. Okay I may be having a little bit of an extensional crisis, we gotta get booze back this is me sober.


Tak: Mimi is my little sister. She was born with amelia and her right arm didn’t fully develop.

Mimi: I got fitted for my arm around 2 I think. I don’t remember.

Tak: She wanted the one with the cat pattern because she’s my wee baby boo~

Mimi: I will break both of your legs

Tak: Wee baby boooooooooooo~

Mimi: *hiss*

Rantage ahoy. Bieber fans, the back-button is thataway. *points up*

Looking at the number of serious tweets using the #WeWillAlwaysSupportYouJustin hashtag is making me physically sick.

Let me tell you all something. I was in a car crash as a child. I couldn’t have been more than three or four years old. My mother, who at the time was pregnant with my little sister, was driving me to preschool. I remember everything about that morning with almost supernatural clarity. I was thinking that my school uniform was itchy. My mom was changing the radio station, and I was asking her to stay on this one particular channel because a Spice Girls song had started playing. She was teasing me, calling me Scary Spice while I protested and insisted that I was Posh Spice. My unborn sister was to be Baby Spice, we both decided.

And then suddenly there was this horrific jolting and a high-pitched screeching noise. From that moment on, everything is a blur. I remember my mom screaming and hitting the brakes. I remember the car skidding to a stop. I remember my mom’s hands frantically unbuckling my seatbelt. I remember hearing an intense roaring, and to this day I’m still not sure whether that was just blood rushing in my ears and adrenaline or an actual physical sound. I remember my mom pulling me out of the car and running awkwardly to the sidewalk.

A van had slammed into the backseat of our car. It was orange, and that’s all I remember about it. I couldn’t see the driver. I have no idea why, but the thought ran through my mind that maybe it was good thing that I couldn’t. Maybe I subconsciously knew that the sight of blood, or maybe recognising what might be a dead body, would unhinge me. Passersby stopped to gawk at the incident and call the police. One of them turned out to be my teacher, who was on his way to the school as well. He took me and my mom in his car and brought us to the head office, where my mom called my dad. The principal told me I could be excused for the day,

My dad drove to the school and picked me and my mom up (they were still together at the time). He was furious. I had never seen him that mad. I don’t remember much of what he was saying, but I do remember that he’d said he’d already spoken with the police and that they needed a statement from my mom but that it could wait until tomorrow, and that the driver of the orange van was drunk.

I was three. I didn’t know what drunk meant. So I asked my dad, and he said, “Drunk is what happens to you when you drink too much alcohol. You can’t control your body and you get really dizzy. And driving while drunk is one of the damn stupidest things you can ever do.” I had never heard my dad swear before, so I was shocked. This must be something really serious then, I thought.

It wasn’t until I was much older that I truly realized the implications of what had happened that day. Imagine if the outcome had been different. If that orange van had been driving just a little bit faster. Had he hit my mom’s car a little harder. I might not be here today, typing this. My mom might have died and never gotten the chance to create and give birth to my little brother, who was born four years after my sister. My little sister might have died in utero. 

And that’s only the possibilities. Imagine all those people who have died because of some dumbass who decide to drive while under the influence. Imagine all those people who weren’t as lucky as me and my mom. Imagine all those people who have lost loved ones because of some idiot’s stupid decision.

Here’s another story for you. One of my college classmates died because of drunk driving. We had just graduated. It had barely been a week since our graduation ceremony.We were all excited, all ready and raring to conquer the world. Some of us were looking for work, others were heading for law school. And that girl had it all ripped away from her.

Do you understand that, people who are defending Justin’s drunk driving? IT HAD BARELY BEEN A WEEK SINCE THAT BEAUTIFUL GIRL HAD MARCHED DOWN THE AISLE IN A TOGA TO RECEIVE HER DIPLOMA.

And now, she’s dead. 

Her name was Irene. She was funny and loudmouthed and knew all the gossip about people in school. She loved to talk. She loved to eat. She was generous and had a warm spirit and she was rich but she never showed it off. Her name was Irene, and she was gonna be a lawyer.

She had fought through four years of pre-law and she was ecstatic to have finally graduated. She was out for the night to have a good time with friends, to celebrate this new chapter in her life. But the book was abruptly closed by a moron who decided that driving his brand new sports car while three sheets to the wind was a good idea.

Irene lay in a coma for a week and a half before her parents finally decided to pull the plug. She’s buried in her hometown in Laguna, and her best friends still visit her grave every month.

Think of all those lives that have been snuffed out by an idiot’s decision to drive while drunk.

And please note, I said decision. Because driving while under the influence is not a mistake. Leaving your keys or your wallet is a mistake. Putting sugar in the salt shaker is a mistake. Spelling a word wrongly is a mistake.

Getting behind the wheel of a car when you know full well that you have no business driving is not a mistake. It’s an idiotic, selfish thing to do.

“Oh, but he’s only 19!” Fuck you, so was I a year ago! And it would never have occurred to me to drive while under the influence. NEVER.

Justin Bieber doesn’t need his fans telling him that what he did was okay. Justin Bieber doesn’t need his fans telling him that he’s human and he made a mistake. Justin Bieber does not need his stupid, irresponsibly actions validated. HE NEEDS HELP, AND YOU PEOPLE TELLING HIM THAT IT’S OKAY, THAT HE’S FINE, THAT YOU WILL SUPPORT ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING HE DOES, IS COUNTERPRODUCTIVE TO THE POINT OF SHEER IDIOCY.

And for god’s sake. The surviving family members and loved ones of people who have died in drunk driving accidents definitely do not need you saying all this bullshit on Twitter and other social media websites. No. Just, no.

So all of you ridiculous Beliebers and fans of other celebrities who think a DUI is no big deal, who support your idols’ decisions even when those decisions involve things that could kill people, I fucking dare you all to spout off your nonsense bullshit defending them for drunk driving to someone who’s lost a loved one in a car crash. To all you people tweeting #WeWillAlwaysSupportYouJustin, I fucking dare you to say those things to a mom whose kid died because of a drunk driver, to a husband who lost his pregnant wife and child all at once, to parents whose teenage son was good and responsible and would never drunk drive but died anyway because someone else wasn’t.

I fucking dare you to tell my mom, who almost died and lost two children, that Justin is ‘just human’. I fucking dare you to tell Irene’s parents that he 'made a mistake’.

I. Fucking. Dare. You.

Heart of Stone.

I used to dream to travel the world. The bright colours and different skies. The infinite of it all and the beauty I wanted to grasp with bare hands. I grew up in a pretty house and I had the space to run, to be careless and had to wish for the stupidest things. Dreams come true, I promise dreams come true, but people often seem to forget that nightmares are dreams too. Mine came true..

I was born on the thirty-first of July in 1988. The first son to Fleur and Christoph Deldicque. My life was good and I had nothing to complain about, I never was more excited when my little sister Alexys was born. She was my best friend and my worst enemy. See I had the downs, like everyone does, but when you see your home on fire and the screams of your family escaping them, you know you won’t live for long anymore. The screams stopped and I died.

So here I am twenty-seven years old. I reached a lot in life, I guess. I no longer care. My lungs are full of smoke, my belly full of beer and my nose filled with cocaine, simply to forget the fear of fear. I don’t want to be haunted anymore. Not ever. I’m restless, I am really anything I want to be. An underground assassin, a drug dealer. I am rich and still so poor. But it all changed slowly the day I met her, I had no idea at that time, but I see it all now. She brought me back to life and even though our past is haunting us, we’re doing alright.

I met her for the first time in an alley. I was mindlessly walking through the snow on my way home after a rough drug deal and all I wanted was to warm myself up and dwell on my thoughts. Yet I got ripped out of them by a scream, my eyes wandered aside where I found her, pushed up against the wall, half naked and ready to be raped. See normally I wouldn’t care and God I hated her for making me care in the whatever way. She obviously was younger than I was. Probably six or seven years. “Hey douche.. Raping girls again?” I said sarcastically before he ripped him away from the injured girl. “The little girl wanted drugs can you believe it?” The guys snatched and yet I turned towards her, her clothing was soaked and if she would try it on it was ripped apart. So I handed her my long black coat for her to cover herself up in. “Wait okay?” I turned towards the guy who laughed at the top of his lungs, seeing me actually care. I knew what happened the last time I cared, and I hated the feel the flashbacks. “You better move your ass or you know what will happen right and as well if you tell anyone. I will find you just like I found that little friend of yours.” It seemed to work and the man ran off quickly. I turned back to her, she must be new for sure. “Okay let’s get you dressed.” I sounded more harsh and cold than I wanted to, but I couldn’t help to be honest. I had been cold for ten years, no emotions but anger and sadness. How couldn’t I be bitter. I figured she was skinny enough to fit in my clothing and so laid everything down for her in the shower. “Warm up.” I wasn’t used to having anyone in my house and I rather had her gone as quickly as possible too.