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Anastasia Rosalinda Maria Owens: Year One by whyus
Chapter 1 : Letter
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 3

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Chapter 1



Please don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me
As many times as I repeated that in my head, the beating never stopped. I know that what someone normal would do. They would get up from their fetal position and start fighting right? Wrong. Not when they had a gun to your head.

My mum was the only friend I had. Yes, had. She died while trying to leave Samuel, my dad but I refuse to call him that, with me and I am now left with him. Now it is almost six years later and I have been living a horrible life with a drunken muggle. Yes muggle, mum was a pureblood and decided to go and get herself disowned. Fun right. No, I would take old Voldy any day compared to this.

“That’s what you get you little whore.” Ah yes I’m a whore cause I look like my mum, yes that makes perfect sense.
“Get to your basement and lock the doors up before the moon comes up.” Wow, I thought, he practically growled, look who’s the wolf now.

Yes, I know what your thinking, basement! However, it is more of a safety thing for me. I can lock it from the inside so my “dad” cannot come in. Usually results in worse beatings, but I’m fine with that.

I look out the bullet proof, metal barred up window that I have and wait for the moon to rise. I see a little light. I soon begin to transform, as I’m transforming, I ignore the cracking and changing of bone, I think of the irony of it all. I have not seen the full moon since I was seven. Stupid Greyback. I had heard about him, saw old newspapers from mum’s trunk. He went to school with mum. Loved her even. When he heard she had had a half-blood, he decided to get her back. By turning me. To bad, he didn’t know she was dead before he attacked. Would have saved me some trouble. I heard a howling and knew I had changed, I lost all thought then.

I woke up with even more cutes and scrapes than I have had the last time. Strange? As I look out the “window”, I saw birds chirping. Oh my gosh, I thought, it’s my birthday. Yes, July 10 is my birthday. Just great. Moreover, it is a Friday night. Samuel’s drunk day. Hmmm, will he use the gun this time or not? Maybe I could just end my life there.

“No,” I said aloud, as a command. I cannot be thinking of that, not now, not ever. I am living for my mum. If anything, I have to be the last heir for my mum. Live for her while she watched through my eyes.

I get the sudden feeling that I am no alone and I am right. Samuel is there with the gun and his bloodshot eyes. I had instinctively moved into a crouch and he took it the wrong way. He walked toward me with the gun coming up. Damn he was already drunk. I curled up, my back to him. He lifted the gun and


I felt a pain in my side. My hand automatically tried to clutch it but he was quicker and grabbed my hand, pulling my hand and stretching the wound. I bit back a scream, drawing blood with my razor teeth faster than you could say snitch.

“What do you know about this devil school?” He yelled. God Sam, get a breath mint. Yes, I know I was just shot, but I have a low attention span at times like this. I just then realized that he had been holding, more like shoving, a letter in my face. A dent came in between my eyebrows as I looked at it. It was a heavy paper. With patterns at the corners. As I read, it said some of the most outrageous things. Then my blood spiked with fear as the person, Dumbledore, mentioned my “condition”. However, I relaxed when I read that a new tree would be planted and connected to the school so I could leave in and out privately. It said so many things. It was then that I remember being magic. Mum was, and so am I. I had already been setting things on fire, taken things from Sam when he tried to hurt me, and much more. I also read about the strange places that I had to be getting my supplies.

It was then that I realized where I was and whom I was with, as a pain had just shot though my side. I looked up into the dark blue eyes that mirrored mine. I shivered, not because it was cold, but out of fear. I used my other hand to push my black hair behind my ear. He then dropped me on the floor, looked at me with disgust, and said,

“Get packed, I want you out of thins house. I never want to see you again.”

As I slumped to the floor. I felt light. As light as a feather. I looked down at the pool of red. I turned away disgusted. I tried to get up and stand, but it did not work, I just cried out in pain and came back down to the floor. I dragged myself to my “bed”, if you could even call it that, and got out my first aid kit. I lifted up my shirt and wrapped the cloth around my wound so blood would not leak out any more. As I was fixing my self up, I looked at my face in the cracked mirror. I looked too old. I had seen too many things. Had gotten beat too many times. How in the world can I be alive? I cleaned my self up and pack my mother’s and my stuff in a duffle bag. I passed the mirror while holding my side and looked at the clothes I was wearing. I was wearing a skintight tank top and some sweats.

As I walked back upstairs, I looked both ways, almost as if I were crossing the street. I laughed internally. I had never been out side, but I remember some flashes of memories from when my mum was alive. We would go to the park and on a muggle contraption called a swing. It felt like I was flying. I planned to go there. If I could remember. I then looked toward where he was, but it looked like I was home alone. He had left to the bar again. I then realized that I would need food for the time I would be gone. I ran to the kitchen, grabbed some cans, and tossed them into my bag, mostly soup. I grabbed a can opener and water bottles and put them in the bag.

Then I got up and ran. Out the door. Out of his life. Out of this hell that has been my “home” for the past eleven years. I then came to a sudden stop at I saw the park. The swings were even in the same place. A ghost of a smile had somehow drifted back onto my face. However, I had not smiled since before my mum died. Ever. I think I had forgotten. I do not even know what makes a smile anymore. All I know is that it is an involuntary movement of the muscles around you lips. That is it. I sat on the swing that my mum had pushed me on when I was five. I moved slowly, rocking my self. Then I cried. I had not cried in so long. I had thought that my tears had dried out. Surely enough, I touched my face with my fingers and felt warm wetness on my cheek. I had stopped rocking a while back, but the swing to it was still there. I had soon started to see black spots in my line of vision. I started to slip off the swing and slide to the ground. I then heard two cracks and figures blocked my line of vision and I went unconscious.


Okay so I have rewritten this chapter, so I think I got everything out that wasn't suppose to be in, out. Still if you haven't reviewed yet, review and tell me what you think, also if I have any mistakes. Thanks to Harry Potter is my LIFE for pointing out the obvious. Updates are going to be slow because I still need to do my summer pre-Algebra math packet without my mom noticing. Thanks for your support and keep reading!

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