Make Me Yours

Author:Bellamy Roswell

Category:Romance

Total pages:86

Description

“When she wanted me, I acted like I didn't need her. Now that I need her, she's acting like she doesn't want me.”

STELLA

To love and feel loved. It’s all anyone aspires to, yet few reach such arbitrary aspirations. I was certain I would never experience something as meaningful as love. Pain, sadness, fear. Those were more along the lines of emotions I would learn to live with. My story is unlike any other, yet not in any way unique. I was raised by a loathsome tyrant who threatened to ruin me in any and every way he could. He shaped me into the perfect porcelain doll he needed me to be, silent and obedient. His own personal marionette, to leave bloody, bruised, and alone, with no hope of a brighter future. That is exactly what I became until I met him. The dark prince who ruined me more than anybody had and destroyed whatever was left of me. Yet he was also the only person who ever made me truly feel. I was numb, desensitized to the world until he touched me in a way I had never been touched, and it was at that moment, despite everything else, that I became his.

MALACHI

I knew I would never amount to anything of importance, and I was content with that. I accepted I wasn’t deserving of the fictional concepts of love and happiness everyone else was accustomed to. Worst of all, I wasn’t capable of offering it. The world had shown me early on that I was insignificant and worthless. Why else would it be so cruel to me when I had done nothing to deserve its rage? I was a child, and if the people who were supposed to protect me unconditionally couldn’t be bothered to give a shit, then who would? Though when I met her, all of that seemed inconsequential. She became my one and only craving. An addiction I took on and became so enamored by I could no longer tell right from wrong. All I knew was that I needed her to survive. I needed to protect her. I needed her, consequences be damned. However, without intention, I did the one thing I was always afraid I’d do. I broke her. I shattered the fragile doll to pieces, breaking her beyond repair. It was then I knew she was never meant for me.

Boys aren’t supposed to play with dolls, and for damn good reason.

PagesPage 1Page 2Page 3Page 4Page 5Page 6Page 7Page 8Page 9Page 10Page 11Page 12Page 13Page 14Page 15Page 16Page 17Page 18Page 19Page 20Page 21Page 22Page 23Page 24Page 25Page 26Page 27Page 28Page 29Page 30Page 31Page 32Page 33Page 34Page 35Page 36Page 37Page 38Page 39Page 40Page 41Page 42Page 43Page 44Page 45Page 46Page 47Page 48Page 49Page 50Page 51Page 52Page 53Page 54Page 55Page 56Page 57Page 58Page 59Page 60Page 61Page 62Page 63Page 64Page 65Page 66Page 67Page 68Page 69Page 70Page 71Page 72Page 73Page 74Page 75Page 76Page 77Page 78Page 79Page 80Page 81Page 82Page 83Page 84Page 85Page 86