PROLOGUE

To all the girls who broke their hearts before they broke yours.

﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ

TW

Mentions of SH!!!

Calamity usually strikes on days like this.

The days you least expect bad things to happen. The days you were taught to celebrate and love no matter what.

Days like your birthday.

I've never thought I would spend the last minutes of my birthday on the edge of some building. I was the kid who promised to always cherish and celebrate my birthday, no matter how old I was. I wanted to be eighty and still have a surprise party ready for me at home like I did during my childhood.

And now I'm not going to live until I'm eighty. I'm cutting it short at the prime age of fourteen.

I peer down at the busy street below me as memories rolled in my head like a slideshow—showcasing all the fun I've had and the pain I've had to endure my whole entire life. The people that walk the streets of New York were completely oblivious to the fact a body might drop on them at any second.

My feet trembled at the edge and I held the bars behind me for balance. I thought I'd be crying but I wasn't? It was weird. Everything felt surreal. like it wasn't happening, when in fact, it was. I knew standing on the cliff wasn't a fever dream, but reality.

If someone told little Autumn she would be ending her life early, she wouldn't have believed you. No one would. Because I was a happy girl with a happy life and two parents who were present in my life.

That was before the divorce which ended with my Mom winning full custody over me and dragging us on a one-way ticket to America from Vietnam. I loved my homeland greatly and didn't want to leave, but my protests were met with a belt each and every time. I knew of Mom's fixation with America but I didn't think she would ever take it this far. Mom liked making Dad feel bad about himself and the one story house we were living in, while she did absolutely nothing to support us. Evelyn often would compare the two countries to get under his nerves and say things like, "When I move to America, I'm going to find me a rich husband who will take care of my needs better than you."

Spoiler alert, she did. His name is Stephan Kelly and he works in real-estate as an agent.

My hatred for Stephan went deeper than him ruining my family. I hated him for multiple reasons. Examples,—Watching my own Mother put me down constantly and not do a damn thing about it. Attempting to rape me in his study when Evelyn wasn't home. Buying pets for me to play with and killing them in front of my eyes when I did something to annoy him. Dragging me over his lap, spanking me as a form of punishment when I knew it was so much more than that. The bulge I felt told me so.

I told Mom about his abuse on several occasions and she still chose not to believe me, even when the proof was all over my body. Sometimes I think she didn't notice the scars he left over the ones she left behind.

My dad would kill both of them if he ever found out the abuse they showed towards me. He's the light you'd desperately search for in the darkness, he's my happiness. He's my hero. I missed him so much that it hurt. It hurts to keep loving someone knowing you shouldn't when not one day passes when they think of you. Evelyn said he had a choice to come to America with us—with his daughter and chose to be selfish and that if there was someone I should be blaming, it's him.

I called him every day—every night, awaiting a text or even better, a call back. He said he'd stand by me and protect me but that was the opposite of what he was doing.

Tears. I reached for my cheek, feeling the substance roll down my face and into my parted lips. Salty. How long have I been crying for? I didn't realise until now. My body trembled again and my lips whimpered.

I cried thinking if he does end up calling me back, he wouldn't receive a call because I would've already been dead.

I cried even harder.

"Are you going to jump or continue to waste my time?"

I spun around quickly at the sound of the voice, my hair slapped against my face and my balance almost lost itself. The thumping of my heart increasedified greatly when my eyes met with a dangerous pair. It's a boy presumberly around my age.

His stare was strong and brutal, like he wasn't just minutes away from witnessing a brutal, gruesome suicide and all that came out of his mouth was a insensitive question. I looked into his eyes, they were soulless. As if he was programmed to not show emotion.

I felt trapped between a cliff that would soon lead to my death and the overwhelming presence of the boy I could only describe as a monster. This feeling.. I'm scared, It feels like I'm seated in the front row of a thriller film, wearing 3D glasses and waiting for a disaster to happen.

His full, symmetrical lips are set in a thin line. I noticed the enlightening gleam behind his icy, cold irises and my mouth gaped open, not out of surprise but confusion. Was he awaiting my death this badly?

Great. Another person wanted me dead, this time it's someone I didn't know.

I swallowed the uneasiness creeping up my throat. My hands don't move from the mental bars and my grip tightens.

His words didn't scare me, but the way he said it. His tone was cold and calculating, as if he were anticipating my death like a new marvel movie. His narrowed glare told me this wasn't his first rodeo.

A scoff escaped his parted pink lips. Craning his neck to the side, his nose scrunched up in disgust when my unwavering stare wouldn't leave his face. He was handsome, by far the prettiest boy I've ever seen. But I wasn't staring at him because of that. I was trying to find any hints of emotion on his face. I couldn't. He's a rock or at least hid behind one.

"Jump." His penetrating voice spoke. There was a clear intent of malice behind his cold tone. He didn't bother masking it.

"What?" My voice came out shaky and small.

"You're hideous, thin and by the looks of it, don't know how to dress. You don't view yourself as someone worthy enough to live in this world, so do us a favour and jump."

My emotions were all over the place at this point. What annoyed me was the fact he wasn't wrong about anything. How could a person I didn't know be so right?

I looked down at my ripped thrasher shirt and cargo pants, then at my dirty flats. Sure my fashion wasn't the best but surely it wasn't the worst. I knew I wasn't the prettiest of girls, I stopped caring about looks when I found out pedophiles don't care about your face when they can shove a paper bag over your head.

My head raised just in time to witness a cruel smirk slide over his lips. When I look at him and the predicament I'm in, I know that I'm the prey and he's the predator. "Scared of an audience?"

"Or are you just another pathetic coward?" He said and my heart dropped.

"When are you going to stop being such a fucking Coward and do it already?!"

"You won't tell your Mother, you're too much of a Coward, Autumn. When will you realise that?"

"Cowardly Autumn's here."

"If I knew I'd be giving birth to a coward, I would've aborted you in that hospital bed."

Memories surfaced in my mind and wouldn't leave like a bad cough. My stomach churned recalling all the events that took place in my life.

I felt sick to my stomach. I felt as though someone took a hammer and hit me in the lower abdomen with it repeatedly. As if their hits were aiming for my heart.

My head hung low as I spoke. "I'm not a coward." My words came out as a quiet whisper.

I could almost hear the grin in his voice. "Jump." His grin widened. "My friend and I are betting $1000 each. Do me a favour and land on your back, okay? I can't lose this bet to fucking Ivanov."

They're.. Wagering on my death? I felt even more sick if possible. "No." I said, my eyes raised to see the surprised look on his face. What's so shocking? The fact I won't kill myself to satisfy his needs?

"No?" He repeated.

"No." I reaffirmed, attempting to hide my shakiness behind my voice. C'mon. I was scared shitless but I knew I had to set the boundaries. "I won't kill myself for your satisfaction." I told him.

His neck craned and dark brow lifted. "You aren't going to obey me?" I shook my head. He shrugged his shoulders. "Fine." He then approached. "I'll have to push you."

No, No, No.

The queasy feeling of uneasiness mixed with anxiousness and fright crept up my throat, choking me. My sight of the approaching boy became blurry as my head felt dizzy. He was really going to push me to my death. My eyes scanned his hard face for any humor and widened when I couldn't find a trace of him joking.

He was serious, 100%. I started hyperventilating at the thought of being pushed to my death.

My palm felt like it was on fire by how tight I was squeezing the bars. I closed my eyes, waiting for the impact of my body hitting the hard concrete.

A phone rang. My heart dropped when I opened my eyes and saw that it was his. Even at the brick of death, I still wanted Mom to call me and tell me she's sorry for everything. It was pathetic. I'm pathetic.

"Stop yelling, I'm coming." The boy said to the other person over the line. A man. Was that his father? I watched as the boy spun on his heel, walking the opposite direction of me. When the door closed behind him, I felt a sense of relief, letting out the biggest sigh ever.

I jumped the fence, falling on the harsh ground of the roof. I flipped to my back, arms spread wind while my eyes were being blinded by the sunlight beaming down on me.

I smiled. I'm alive.