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8.84% The Billionaire's Secretary is a Stud / Chapter 13: LIFE STORY

Bab 13: LIFE STORY

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They just need your name; no need to give a whole bio. Leave in peace. My time is better spent elsewhere. I hope this is the last time I hear from her as the security guards take her away as I pick up another letter to read but it's not very long.

A single star glows brightly above. Beginning to blink and cry out. Each of us is guarded by a single star.

It lurches forward before crashing to the ground. A single star falls from the sky like an apple from a tree, yet it keeps its frown even as it does so. As it rests on the ground, a solitary star looks up at the moon, the only place it has ever known as home. A lonely, shivering star whose light is fading. She felt like she'd spent her whole life waiting for something. A lone star waves goodbye with her blinks. As she slowly dies, her brilliance dims. I just needed someone to read it, and you happened to fit the bill. We appreciate your patience.

_.

That's really kind of her to do. Oddly enough, I look forward to picking up another letter from her.

Thank you, Miss Benson

How do you feel right now? Exactly what are your mental processes? Is it painful to have this dream? When you open your eyes, there is a roar of voices in your room. You don't recognise the voice at first, but then you realise it's you. You were startled out of your dream state. However, the feelings were real, and by the time you knew he was in your bed, it was already too late. You wonder if anyone caught your yelling and screaming. But you are aware of your isolation and the fact that no one will come to your aid. You're just a helpless little girl who's scared of the dark. We aren't allowed to say this, but you desperately need to be saved. I'm taking a solitary walk through the forest. All my ancestors and close friends who have passed away are still in my mind.

I can hear the wind rustling through the trees and feel the warm summer breeze on my face. When I get down on my knees, my breathing slows and my heart rate decreases. I can make out every word they say, and I can hear them clearly and loudly. I can clearly make out their features through my sobs. If you could be quiet, I'd appreciate it. When I look around, I see that no one can assist me. Is this going to be my life from here on out? I have friends, but how many of them will be here after it's all over? When death finally arrives, will my pal be able to give me a call? I can literally feel the blood pumping through my veins. Terrible rumblings of thunder fill my head, and sharp pains accompany them. If you could be quiet, I'd appreciate it. Okay, so why am I even here? Nothing about this is recognisable to me. The trees and bushes start to blend together, and I'm not sure whether I can trust my eyes anymore. I'm feeling a level of isolation that I've never felt before. As I grasp the woodland floor, I long for company. There are times when I feel the need to share my struggles with another person. How having a true friend was my one and only true desire. Expecting others to treat me the way I treat others has never seemed unrealistic to me. The concept of friendship, in the eyes of many, is skewed. The sound of sweat trickling from my pores is audible.

I can hear the birds singing in the distance. If you could be quiet, I'd appreciate it. It's as though my brain is starting to shut down in preparation for sleep. These intense feelings are difficult to comprehend. I roll onto my back and look up at the clouds. I think it is a beautiful day to pass away. I have no words to express your mind wandering. Is my curiosity a result of my lack of discomfort? I can no longer make out the inaudible thudding of my heart. Then I hear my dad plead, "Just be quiet here with me." I'm sitting here wondering if your love is real, and I'm still expecting for consolation from you. If you see me crying on the inside, you know I'm dying. Do you not notice that I am crying? Can't you see how much suffering has been building up?

The once-harmless child is now 19 and clinically depressed because of what happened to her. I have no one to talk to or even listen as I rehash painful memories. You've put a lot of pressure on me to perform numerous tasks. A memory is triggered. Memories that I'd like to forget. I have a hard time erasing memories from my head. The internal turmoil of anguish, pain, and wrath is too overwhelming for words. Sometimes I look around and wonder who "loves me" enough to abandon me today. You're flooded with feelings of abandonment. If I could be there holding your hand and relieving all your suffering, I would. Please know that my love for you has not faded. In the end, you'd have a life to look forward to.

But all I can see is pitch blackness. The grown-up goes about her business, leaving the child miserable. Experiencing happiness, sadness, and chaos, I pray that you may eventually comprehend. I pray that one day you will be here to comfort me and hold my hand. Until then, I can only feel anger and a never-ending sensation of rejection. Despite my best efforts to avoid it, my sorrow and suffering pour down from on high.

My skin crawls with rage as I'm surrounded by memories of what may have been.

The rage I feel is like a beating heart. A wound doesn't have time to heal before it opens wide. Everything I do is shrouded in shadow. I force a grin on my face, but are you wise to my ruse? I put on a happy face when others talk to me, but deep down I wish they could know how unique I really am. I hope they realise they did nothing wrong. The truth is tearing me apart more than ever, but I've been trying to keep it buried in my heart.

.

Sincerely yours

Darasimi


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