There's no purpose

There's no purpose There's no purpose
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Status: Finished

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Summary

A girl remembering her life in flashbacks. She is realising the hurt that she has caused.

Summary

A girl remembering her life in flashbacks. She is realising the hurt that she has caused.

Chapter1 (v.1) - There's no purpose

Author Chapter Note

A girl remembering her life in flashbacks. She is realising the hurt that she has caused.

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: August 13, 2011

Reads: 321

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Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: August 13, 2011

A A A

A A A

The thing I hate most about being fourteen is that you’re not legally obliged to buy alcohol, drive a car or buy smokes.

I don’t smoke but I wish everyone else didn’t so maybe I wouldn’t have to pretend to be someone I’m truly not. I hate smoking it’s pointless, for others not so much, for me though it’s different. I do it to stay sociable.

I also hate hormones. I think about sex a lot. But I’m not the stereotyped acne freaks with a bad attitude. I’d like to think I wasn’t anyway.

This is just the way I speak; I have a small vocabulary so most of the time I may be misinterpreted. That’s how it was with some of my ex-best friends. Now they’re just another face in the crowd I see at school. At times they might glare or just snob me and ignore me altogether. Either way it doesn’t really matter anymore. I’ve just proved how small minded they all are.

My name is Leigh Anna, short and snappy, I think it means gracious and poetic. Not quite sure. I hate that name too.

I guess you’re asking yourself at the moment “Is there anything you don’t hate?”

Which is probably a good question, I don’t hate everything. There’s your answer.

“Is she always this negative?”

No. Well I don’t know what it means but I think it means bad mood. So to say, yes actually, I’m always this way. I don’t mean to be this way but I am and I don’t want to change.

So ask yourself this, do you remember what it was like being fourteen?

The last time I asked someone that question was five minutes ago before I began to write down my thoughts and my every . . . what was the word . . . whim!  Yes that was it my every Whim.

My grandma remembers being fourteen. She said she’d rather be fourteen then a hundred and fourteen. That way she could walk to the kitchen and back without getting the feeling she’s about to die of a heart-attack.

She’s not actually a hundred and fourteen though she’s only eighty, but it looks like she could pass for an hundred year old lady. Gosh thinking about it now if she’d found at what I’d written about her now she’d say

 

“Quite charming aren’t you, certainly know how to make me feel older than I already am”

 

Mum doesn’t like it when I talk about grandma that way. But I don’t see how it’s any different from when grandma asks mum to do something for her and she swears like it’s the end of the world and she forgot to buy her cigarettes.

 

“What is the purpose of this story?” You ask yourself.

 

To be honest I don’t have a clue. I don’t think there is a purpose. Maybe there might be a purpose in the end.

 

Lets start from what happened and why I’m like what I am now.

 

Mum worked during the day time. Long shifts and stuff like that. My little sister and I played across in the front yard at the neighbours. His name was Rodger. We were both six years old. So we liked to play these games were he liked to pretend to be the Dad and I was the mother and my little sister was the daughter.

 

He bought me into these bushes next to his house.

 

“Lie down, lets pretend were asleep, its night time that’s what parents do remember”

 

My little sister went away she was bored. Nothing interested her.

 

So I stayed with him for a while. We lay silent on the ground for a moment and I could see the sun streaming through the leaves above our heads. It twinkled as the slight breeze caught at it and the trees swayed.

He’d reached over me and sat on top of me while I lay there unthinking. Slowly he reached under and moved his fingers between my thighs.

I couldn’t react, what was there to do? My mind had rummaged through all the gruesome thoughts and finally I remembered that this was like a television show that my mother had watched once, where the guy was on top of the girl.

It happened quickly, he didn’t slip out his cock or anything. He just touched me. When I was old enough to understand what happened I couldn’t comprehend. It was like sexual harassment or something. But he was the same age so how could it be.


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