Isabel Refugee Book Novels & Stories

Quite honestly, I didn’t know why I was telling him all this, why I was ranting to someone I had just met. My tears fell freely now. “He looked me in the eyes and had me shot,” I whispered. “Like I was nothing. Like I was trash to be thrown away.” The room was silent except for my uneven breaths. “What do I have left?” I asked mostly to myself, my voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me, what do I have left?” Malakai's eyes studied me, and finally, he asked one question. Only one. “What exactly do you want, Isabella?”

Asked an excited Arianna. She handed them the book that she had brought with her. Everyone looked at it with disbelief. "It looks like she's written this," said Hudson. "Where did you find this book?" Asked David Gray with interest. "Uncle David, this book has ranked as The New York Times Bestseller consecutively for the last few months," said Arianna. Everyone was stunned to hear that the little Isabella who had run away from home was a best-selling author of the country! "How do we contact her for an autograph?" Asked Weston at last, looking proud of his Isabella. Arianna smiled and took out her phone.

**FLASHBACK** Isabella sat on one of the wet cartons on the bus. Still crying, she was feeling nauseous and stinking in her blood stained clothes, she cleaned the tears off her face from time to time but it still gushed down uncontrollably. No one could have thought that such a huge calamity could befall a happy pack like hers, not to talk of what happened on the day of her celebration. Her entire pack was murdered, her parents gone, two of her brothers brutally killed and her virginity was taken in the most cruel way and now she and some other kids were being abducted to only God knows where and what they were used for..

“You get a bad feeling when someone looks at you funny.” “Funny looks don’t bleed people dry and leave their bones picked clean,” I snapped. He shut up. Isabella joined me at the edge of the cliff, where we could see the slow-moving trail of refugees winding down into the valley. Her voice was soft. “They’re scared.” “So am I.” She blinked. “You?” “Of losing them. Of losing you.” I swallowed hard. “I’ve seen too many graves. I can’t dig yours.” She turned to me, fierce and beautiful and impossible. “Then don’t let me fall.”

"So I had no choice but to take care of and raise Isaac, he was only four years old before I acted as his mother and father; I dropped out of school and went to live with Aunt Mila, but—" "They kicked you out of the house," Gideon interjected. "H-How did you know?" "I was there before going to the hospital when Isaac was confined at night; I went looking for you, Isabel, to apologize." Gideon replied. Isabel shed tears and hugged Gideon. "Hey, go ahead. I want to listen more about your life." said Gideon. Isabel smiled and continued her story about her parents. ______

•Part Two• Isabelle's POV Right now, beyond the balcony of Lucian's castle, I am gazing at hot, red roses as they sway gently in the breeze. I was allowed to visit only certain parts, and as such, this became one of my favorite places to visit. I come here to think; sometimes, to escape and other times, because I'm angry. Just seeing the fiery roses calmed my nerves. My nerves wouldn't need to be calmed if it weren't for a certain someone. Five months here off and on, and I've gotten nowhere. Except maybe now, I think I'm closer to being insane.

she said, placing a worn leather diary on the table, “this is Camila Antonio’s personal diary. In it, she detailed the corruption she tried to expose. She predicted what would happen to her—and she was right.” Ximena sat in still silence. Isabela turned slowly, facing the board. “My mother was silenced. But I wasn’t. I was hidden, erased, made to feel like a ghost.” She stepped forward slightly. “Now I’m here. And I’m not here for revenge. I’m here for what should’ve always been mine.” The board looked between one another. Isabela’s calm confidence was shaking them. Ximena stood. She looked directly at Isabela, her voice sharp but composed.

Chapter Five - The Runaway Isabella's POV I felt my entire body shudder in fear. I gulped a lump down my throat as I imagined the worse scenarios ever. How could I train a child in such a dangerous environment like the Santos mansion? Most importantly, how could I bear the child of a murderer, someone like Gabriel who had a gazillion enemies. The child would definetly be a target.

Indeed, with Isabella’s intelligence, she wouldn’t have been stuck in that storage room for long. But she still felt a pang of sadness—sad that her mother’s belongings had become clutter in the Rivera household, sad that her once-majestic father had become so muddled. So, she had let herself be trapped in that room, partly as a way to escape, unwilling to confront the reality. “But it’s okay. I’m here. I won’t let anyone bully you or hurt you,” Lucius cradled Isabella’s face in his hands, his gentle, peach blossom-like eyes gazing deeply into hers, every word filled with sincere promise.

Isabella’s poor mother had never known about her husband’s extra-marital affairs, not even in her death. I will never come back to this place ever again. Inside the house, Sandra watched as Isabella dragged her suitcase out the front door, and a wicked smile curled on her lips as she turned to her mother. "Good riddance!" She said. "Time to being a new chapter of our lives " … Five years later, a knock came on the front door of an apartment in San Francisco. "I'm coming." Isabel, as she preferred being called put away her latest designs. She wasn't expecting any visitors.