Please, check out my first ORIGINAL NOVEL! The Breaking of Poisonwood by Paradise Avenger. (Summary: People were dead. When Skye Davis bought me at a slave auction as a birthday present for his brother, I had no idea what my new life was going to be like, but I had never expected this. It all started when Venus de Luna was killed and I was to take her place, to become the new savior… Then, bad things happened and some people died. In the heart of the earth, we discovered the ancient being that Frank Davis had found and created and used to his advantage. The Poisonwood—)

Anyway, I have MOVED this story COMPLETELY to another site. You can find this STORY and all its subsequent UPDATES here: h*t*t*p :/ archiveofourown. o*r*g /works/832254/chapters/1583324

I have the same penname there as I do here: ParadiseAvenger


"Once upon a time…"

From the outside, the house didn't look so bad. The white paint had long ago turned yellow and the flowerboxes beneath the windows were filled with twigs and leaves. The porch had a few rotten boards but the railing was strong. The windows were washed, framed with lace curtains, and soft homey sounds floated from inside. The garden was overgrown, but the grass was neatly cut and there was a child's wooden swing hanging from a low branch of the pine tree in the yard. It wasn't the prettiest house on the block and it wasn't the best, but it was home.

"There was a beautiful girl…"

The family that lived in the house wasn't rich, but they're weren't quite poor. They were comfortably middle-class and, like the house, didn't look so bad either. The parents were still married and got along well, having a glass of wine occasionally with dinner and laughing in the kitchen. The father worked hard as a photographer for a well-to-do corporation and the mother wrote magazine articles for the same company. They worked well together. Their lives were perfect together. They were deeply in love.

"When she was little, all she wanted was to be an actress or a model…"

After a while, the loving young couple started a family. They had two pretty daughters a few years apart. The first was as lovely as summer—her hair the color of strawberries and her eyes rich sunny gold and she was forever pretending. Everyone said that she was beautiful, that she should become a child star. The second was as cheerful as a nest of sparrows—her hair spun-honey and her eyes bright gold like her sister's and her smile lit up the world. She was often singing and people said that she could be a songstress.

"Then, on the night of her prom, a magical faerie godmother came and granted all the wishes of her heart…"

Suddenly, the façade of the perfect happy little family shattered. The younger daughter got sick and she couldn't be made better—even for all the money in the world. For five years, the little girl wasted slowly away. The young parents spent every penny they had on hospital bills and miracle cures, but nothing helped. The father had to sell his favorite old car and the mother sold the antique books she had collected since she was a little girl to pay the bills. To try to help, the older daughter danced for the doctors and nurses.

"She starred in her favorite movie. She met her Prince. She fell in love…"

The family changed after that. There was a way they went about town—heads bowed, looking like everything in life tasted of ashes, eyes red-rimmed. No one could blame the parents for suffering, but they still had one daughter left. They still had their beautiful older child, but it was as if they didn't see her and young children couldn't understand the complexities of adults. The little girl tried to help by dancing and acting and singing her little sister's favorite songs.

"And they lived happily ever after…"

Her efforts did nothing to help her parents. In fact, they did quite the opposite. The young couple found an outlet for their grief and that grief became scalding rage. The first time they beat her, she thought she had done something wrong and she made every effort to never do it again. But even when she smiled, they saw her little sister's face in hers and hurt her. Over time, she accepted that she had done something wrong and accepted what they did to her. Just as she accepted her little sister's death.

"Once upon a time, I believed stories like this."

Abuse. Alone in the night. It hurts. It's your fault, my fault… SHAME! Blame… Broken bones. Torment. Innocence is stained. Protect, stop, don't let it… MURDER! Kill it… Tears. Walls and blood. The sheets are dirty… RAPE! Lost everything. No friends. Lonely, alone, unstable… SUICIDE! Love. Cuts deep. Fear and pain. Defenseless, vulnerable… INNOCENT! So why…? Why did it…? Why did it HAPPEN? Why did it HAPPEN! I was just a CHILD! We were YOUNG! We should have been able to TRUST you! Why…? Why do things like this keep happening…? WHY…?

"Boys do play sports…"

Their house wasn't a house. It was a mansion—a shockingly beautiful Italian-style villa. The walls were pale cream-colored stone with bare wood eaves and a terracotta roof. The paired arched windows glowed with warm amber light and sheer curtains blew in the soft spring breeze. In the backyard, the pool glowed like a blue ghost in the darkness of the night. The gazebo was done up with candied tinsel lights, the garden lovingly tended, and the fountains all aglow so that everything looked like a fantasy world.

"Boys don't play violins…"

These parents were vastly different from each other yet somehow had fallen in love. The mother was on her second marriage. The first, giving her two beautiful children, was to a famous violinist—now deceased. The second was to the head of a powerful corporation. As a result, the family had more money than god and was gifted with everything money could buy. Yet still, there were things money couldn't give them, like happiness, miracles, trust, and love.

"Boys will be boys…"

The mother's oldest child had never quite recovered from his father's death and had never come to accept his step-father. The younger daughter's transition was much smoother. She had even learned to call him 'daddy' like a proper child. Maybe that was the rift that split between the step-father and step-son—the death that had happened years before. Either way, it changed things in the family and slowly destroyed everything that was good.

"Boys are not to act like girls…"

For a while, the mother did what she could. She stood up to her new husband, sheltering her children. It didn't matter that his wrath was turned to her in their place. They were her children and she was going to protect them, no matter the cost to herself. She was a beautiful and kind and wonderful woman. Then, the mother died. At least, that's what the police said… but money could also buy false justice. Then, there was no one left to protect the children.

"Boys do fight…"

He was the older brother so he had to protect his little sister, just as his mother had protected them. Even at the greatest, greatest cost to himself. Even if it destroyed him. Even if it killed him. He would protect her, but what else could he do? He told himself, he told her, that when he turned eighteen, he would get them both out of there. He worked, he protected, he worked, he protected. He hurt… he hurt so badly, but it was something he had to do.

"Boys don't cry…"


And I removed the original mature content that continued from that point due to the trolls. Please join the cause to bring maturity to Fanfiction again. Or read this story and all its updates in its original version on Archive of Our Own.

PLEASE READ: This is a topic that is very close to my heart. I'm very happy with the way this chapter came out. I was trying to portray the sides of childhood innocence (fairytales), stereotypes (boys don't cry), against the abuse that parents put their children through. I'm trying to work out more justification for why these things happen than I was able to in my child abuse story for Kingdom Hearts, Behind the Walls. (But, face it, try to think of a good reason to hurt someone.) So, wish me luck and I hope everyone continues to read despite the gruesome topic. PLEASE READ.

And FYI, my update schedule is going to be a little crazy for a while because life is eating me. But I will update at least once or twice a week guaranteed!

Questions, comments, concerns?