A Story Of My Life Novels & Stories

He then ran around like a headless chicken, attending to me hand and foot. He made me my favorite ginger tea and fed me imported fever meds. I looked into his anxious, distressed eyes and was faintly reminded of the dark, cold home from my past life. The stinginess, exploitation, and verbal abuse I'd once suffered from used to overwhelm and suffocate me. But now, it all sounded like a distant joke from the last century. Ten months later, I gave birth to a healthy daughter at the same private hospital, with the best live-in nanny I could ever ask for, helping me with my daily life.

The tears came up out of her like a dam breaking. I held her until she could talk. Then she told me–things I had not heard, things I had not been around to hear. "Daddy, they said I'm a cash drain. Grandma wouldn't give me food. "I was so hungry… so I ate what cousin Ace left on his plate. They said that was all I deserved. "Uncle said everything I had was Ace's. He made me wash Ace's underwear. He made me serve Ace at dinner. He said if I didn't, they'd throw me out…"

"I thought love was something that happened to other people. I thought happiness was a lie. And then I met Nathaniel, and I learned that I was wrong." She wrote about the institute, about the patients, about the breakthroughs that had changed lives. She wrote about Patricia and the redemption that had seemed impossible. She wrote about the grandchildren and the legacy that would outlast her. "I've lived a full life," she wrote. "A beautiful life. And I want to share it." Some days the words came easily, filling page after page. Other days she sat and stared at the blank paper, wrestling with memories that still carried pain. But she never stopped. She couldn't. The story demanded to be told.

"He always has an excuse." "He doesn't know I'm only seven diary pages away from leaving him." "I got my period today, and the cramps were so bad I couldn't get out of bed. Dexter came home and brought me some painkillers without me asking." "He said it was the same kind he'd gotten for Brianna last time. She said they worked great, so they'd probably help me too." "I said thanks, but no thanks." "One page left. Then I'm done." The last page had only two lines.

I shook my head. Maybe Johan did have feelings for me. But that was all. At the end of my life, I didn't want to stay tangled up with him. The pain got worse every day, tearing through my nerves. Soon, I didn't have the strength to leave my bed. So Shawn wheeled me to the window every day. We watched the sunset and the city lights come on at night. He took great care of Blackie too. One day, I asked, "Shawn, why are you so good to me?"

,sans-serif; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} Calily I never knew my surname. Orphaned at the age of 3, I never got to know my real parents. If there was anything I learnt the hard way, it would be that, ‘life is what you made of it’. I lived as a vulnerable kid while growing up. Moving from foster homes to foster homes, I was never settled. But, I have my story. They say, dead men tell no tales. But I, alive must speak cause this is a privilege since I’m still alive.

And what shocked her was the abusive language from him. Brought up in a middle class family, she was never used to such languages. Those made her so disturbed that she doesn’t know what to do. The only matter of discussion was that the girl has always expected to live a best lifestyle with her husband, she has dreamt a queen lifestyle and to get them fulfilled only by her hubby. But, she was away from in-laws leaving a nuclear lifestyle. And that was only crime.

(And still I don't want a title of 'God'). The wide lap of this eternal sky is the shelter of every homeless and hopeless soul of the Ard. And that kid was also one of them, and I was interested in what if I cuddle his life with the huddles of lies. I narrated his life as a fact and people believe in it as a myth.

Nothing about it was fair any more. These past few years Jane had begun to accept the fact that she wasn't one of the Waleskis. And she had started writing a book called the Unfair Life of Jane, Plain, and Short. It wasn't a real book, just a list of experiences and even that made Jane wonder whether the universe had something in the particular against her. For example: