Only Mostly Devastated

Sometimes one needs someone who is just as damaged to get better. °°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°° A perfect life, family and friends. After finishing high school with flying colours Elicia Rae and her best friend Jeremy Martin enjoy their four months before heading to UCLA where they planned on following their parents' footsteps and partaking in medicine. Tragic events unfold leaving Elicia shattered, nothing is perfect, was the one thing she got to understand. A few visits to the psychiatrist and uncountable visits to a certain woman named Lydia, a therapist. Results in Elicia taking a gap year. She meets Treadway, a victim of abuse and becomes his light at the end of the tunnel. When a depression patient meets a victim of domestic abuse.

I was once broken. I built a wall to prevent getting hurt. He came. Destroyed the wall. And now, for the second time. I am ruined. -Ayesha Samaniego

I had just climbed into the armored SUV leaving the Moretti estate when the gatekeeper hurried after me with a black encrypted phone in his hand. "Mrs. Westmore, Don Moretti asked me to give you this." I took it. One unread message glowed on the screen. [Selena only had a scare. I'll come home tomorrow. Don't overthink it.] I stared at it for two seconds, popped out the SIM card, snapped it in half, and tossed it into the rain outside the window. The next day, I had just reached the abandoned shipyard in North Harbor when encrypted messages started hitting my backup phone one after another. [Vivian, where are you?] [Why aren't you home? Where the hell did you go this late?] [Answer me. Don't make me send men all over the city looking for you.] The last one was exactly his style: soft on the surface, arrogant underneath. [Your family survives under my protection. Don't test my patience.] I didn't answer. After countless messages sank without a reply, my husband finally drove to the old Westmore grounds at North Harbor. He knew that if anything was left of my family, I would be there. But when Damon pushed through the broken iron gate, he found no guards, no household staff, and no Westmore men waiting for orders. The old house stood hollow in the rain. Its windows were blown out, the front steps were black with soot, and the air still carried the bitter smell of smoke and gunpowder. Damon grabbed a passing harbor guard by the sleeve. "Where are the Westmores?" The guard looked at him as if he should already know. "Gone. The family was hit two nights ago. Whoever came for them knew exactly when Moretti protection would be pulled from the harbor." "Miss Westmore came back before dawn," the guard added. "She took the black-gold signet, a few boxes of ledgers, and whatever papers survived the fire." "After that, she left. And no one has seen her since."

I accidentally ruined the cake at the fake daughter's birthday party. As punishment, my parents and brother locked me in the basement. "You’ve let your jealousy ruin a perfectly good celebration. Stay here and think about what you’ve done!" they shouted. They left me in the basement and went off to the Maldives to throw another birthday party for the fake daughter. When a gas leak occurred at home, I was still locked in the basement. As soon as they remotely turned the lights on, the whole house exploded, taking my life with it. After my death, my spirit drifted over to where my family was celebrating. I saw them gathered around the fake daughter on a beach. When a luxury three-tiered cake was brought out, they watched her make a wish with a smile. The fake daughter put on a show of concern about me. "Darling, you’re too kind-hearted. People like her deserve to be locked up and taught a lesson. Let’s see if she dares to take anything from you again," they said. Hearing that, I completely gave up on my family. When they returned home and saw the destroyed house, however, my parents and brother went mad.

"Captain! There's a couple burned and fused together!" I sprinted inside. There was Axel Cheatum, my husband, clinging to some woman. Their bodies had fused from the heat. Axel was sobbing, begging, "Save my wife first, please!" His wedding ring flashed on his finger. "It's my fault," he cried. "We drank too much... didn't even notice the fire." "It's not your fault, honey," the woman whispered. "We hadn't seen each other in so long... we couldn't help it." Axel clawed at his scorched skin, trying to free her. That's when I saw her swollen belly. And Axel, throwing everything away for her. In the end, I lost my baby.

When my wife, Whitney Novak, abandoned me on the mountaintop once again to rush off and take care of my younger brother, Aaron Novak, I was kidnapped on my way home. For three days and three nights, I endured unimaginable torture. The one call I managed to make for help was coldly hung up on. The day I finally dragged myself home, battered and covered in wounds, my family was celebrating Aaron's latest achievement. Whitney frowned in irritation. "Today's supposed to be a celebration. Who are you trying to disgust by showing up looking like that? Are you trying to make everyone think we've been abusing you?" My family looked at me with nothing but contempt. "You're worthless. You'll never measure up to Aaron. It should've been you who died instead." Later, they got exactly what they wanted. I really was dying. But if I was nothing more than a worthless failure, why were they crying?