When Love Hits You
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Romance › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
6
Views:
1,430
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Currently Reading:
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Category:
Romance › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
6
Views:
1,430
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Prologue: B.A. (Before the Arzolas)
Prologue: B.A. (Before the Arzolas)
“What I tell you never leaves this room, okay, Alexander? Here goes…”
I had never gotten the impression of being wanted. Not in any place or by anybody. With the exception of my grandmother and mother, I was but another burden to be passed from person to person.
You see, my mother died when I was 14 and my grandmother died a few days before Christmas that same year. Since I was still a minor, I had been mandated to go with one of my remaining relatives. Which didn’t turn out too well, in my opinion.
This was because everyone would kick me out and off to the next relative. They would say it was because of “her eating habits”, “her freakiness”, “her strangeness”, and overall “being an evil Goth”. Okay, so the last three weren’t so far fetched except for the evil part. But the eating habit I really had no control of. I was a raging bulimic and of the plumper persuasion.
I took laxatives to purge out what little or much food I ate. I am also what is diagnosed as bipolar. I had bipolar since 6 years old when it was diagnosed by Doctor Salani of the Hartford Asylum Psychiatric Clinic. I tend to lash out at people over stupid stuff and then, immediately, cry and run away from the situation.
Flippy, I know…but I’ve been dealing with this for over 15 years so you get used to it after awhile. Anywho, reverting back to the main topic.
The only house I stayed in for very long was my cousin Richard’s house. I was there for 2 months before he found out I was bisexual and a Wiccan to boot. He tossed me out on my ear and told every one of my relatives. I wasn’t allowed in anyone’s house after that and had become homeless. I was 20 at that time, without a job, and still struggling to do well in school.
After living in a shelter for two months, a volunteer group came and served us homeless people a good meal instead of the regular slop we had everyday. And that’s when he came. Christoffer. Christoffer Arzola. My ex-classmate from the 4th grade.
He was in the group with his mother and father serving the mashed potatoes and Salisbury steaks. I came up to the serving area when he noticed and recognized me.
“A-Ashley Smith! Is that you?!”
I looked up and then abruptly back down, getting embarrassed by the whole situation. I ran back to my seat and ate. As soon as I emptied my tray into the garbage, he strode over and pulled me to the side.
“Why are you here, Ashley? What happened?”
I don’t know why I did it, to this very day, but I told him everything. Except the bulimia. He ran back to his mother, told her what happened and convinced her to let me live with them on the condition I stay in college and get into work study. I agreed to it and I was out of there that day.
That’s where it got more difficult.
“What I tell you never leaves this room, okay, Alexander? Here goes…”
I had never gotten the impression of being wanted. Not in any place or by anybody. With the exception of my grandmother and mother, I was but another burden to be passed from person to person.
You see, my mother died when I was 14 and my grandmother died a few days before Christmas that same year. Since I was still a minor, I had been mandated to go with one of my remaining relatives. Which didn’t turn out too well, in my opinion.
This was because everyone would kick me out and off to the next relative. They would say it was because of “her eating habits”, “her freakiness”, “her strangeness”, and overall “being an evil Goth”. Okay, so the last three weren’t so far fetched except for the evil part. But the eating habit I really had no control of. I was a raging bulimic and of the plumper persuasion.
I took laxatives to purge out what little or much food I ate. I am also what is diagnosed as bipolar. I had bipolar since 6 years old when it was diagnosed by Doctor Salani of the Hartford Asylum Psychiatric Clinic. I tend to lash out at people over stupid stuff and then, immediately, cry and run away from the situation.
Flippy, I know…but I’ve been dealing with this for over 15 years so you get used to it after awhile. Anywho, reverting back to the main topic.
The only house I stayed in for very long was my cousin Richard’s house. I was there for 2 months before he found out I was bisexual and a Wiccan to boot. He tossed me out on my ear and told every one of my relatives. I wasn’t allowed in anyone’s house after that and had become homeless. I was 20 at that time, without a job, and still struggling to do well in school.
After living in a shelter for two months, a volunteer group came and served us homeless people a good meal instead of the regular slop we had everyday. And that’s when he came. Christoffer. Christoffer Arzola. My ex-classmate from the 4th grade.
He was in the group with his mother and father serving the mashed potatoes and Salisbury steaks. I came up to the serving area when he noticed and recognized me.
“A-Ashley Smith! Is that you?!”
I looked up and then abruptly back down, getting embarrassed by the whole situation. I ran back to my seat and ate. As soon as I emptied my tray into the garbage, he strode over and pulled me to the side.
“Why are you here, Ashley? What happened?”
I don’t know why I did it, to this very day, but I told him everything. Except the bulimia. He ran back to his mother, told her what happened and convinced her to let me live with them on the condition I stay in college and get into work study. I agreed to it and I was out of there that day.
That’s where it got more difficult.