Você é perfeito para nós

Você é perfeito para nós

Williane Kassia

48.5k Words / Completed
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Introduction

Aviso de Conteúdo!

Este livro contém conteúdo adulto.

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"Deixe-me tirar suas roupas, querida, queremos ver você completamente nua na nossa frente." A bela mulher disse suavemente, caminhando lentamente em minha direção.

Engoli em seco e levantei meu sutiã, tirei minha calcinha e fiquei nua na frente deles.

"Agora fique de quatro na cama." Nesse momento, o homem bonito ao lado dela sorriu e disse para mim, segurando um chicote...
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Minha vida sempre foi cheia de tristeza e dor, e eu sempre tive correntes ao redor do meu corpo, me prendendo no lugar. Mas logo, minha vida mudou, e a luz nos meus olhos recuperou o brilho que eu havia perdido.

Porque duas pessoas se importaram o suficiente comigo para quebrar as correntes que me prendiam. Eles me fizeram começar a me amar e a me sentir bonita.

Eu os amo mais do que tudo.

Por causa deles, sou feliz hoje.
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About Author

Williane Kassia

Chapter 1

Olá leitores, peço desculpas se a história tiver erros gramaticais porque não falo inglês, então pode haver erros. Desculpe, estou tentando aprender inglês e sou do Brasil. Peço desculpas e espero que gostem da história.

Madison Conner.

Nunca pensei que minha vida terminaria assim, sendo abusada pelo meu pai simplesmente por existir. Ele me odiava porque minha mãe morreu ao me dar à luz. Os médicos disseram a ela que a gravidez era arriscada e poderia matá-la no parto, mas ela quis correr o risco mesmo assim, então perdeu a vida ao me dar à luz. É por isso que ele me odeia. Eu matei minha mãe, tirei a pessoa favorita do meu pai.

Desde que eu era pequena, fui atacada fisicamente e torturada mentalmente pelo meu pai, minha mente cheia de pensamentos depressivos e de morte. Tentei suicídio muitas vezes, meus pulsos estavam cobertos de hematomas e tive o azar de sobreviver. Além de ser espancada por ele, eu também era a empregada da casa, tinha que fazer todas as tarefas domésticas, tinha que cozinhar, mas não podia comer a menos que ele me mandasse. Às vezes, eu só podia comer as sobras do prato dele, e minhas roupas não eram das melhores porque ele não comprava nada para mim.

Eu não aguentava mais, não suportava o abuso físico e mental, só queria desaparecer deste mundo. Infelizmente, nunca consigo morrer porque toda vez que corto meus pulsos para me matar, acordo com bandagens nos pulsos. No começo, pensei que ele pudesse se sentir culpado por me tratar assim, mas o que ele disse ficou gravado na minha mente.

''Preocupar-me com você? Nunca! Eu não queria que você acabasse com sua vida tão cedo! Você não merece morrer, a única coisa que você merece é sofrer pela mulher que tirou minha vida de mim. Vou fazer da sua vida um inferno!''

Ouvir essas palavras destruiu meu mundo, não é minha culpa que ela me escolheu em vez dela, não é minha culpa que não é minha culpa! Mas às vezes eu me culpo, tudo ao meu redor é caos, dor e sofrimento. Sinto que não tenho mais uma vida, basicamente é isso, não tenho controle sobre minha vida. Não posso morrer, não posso ser feliz, não posso ter amigos, não posso ter ninguém ao meu redor. A solidão é minha companheira constante, está sempre ao meu lado, não importa onde eu esteja.

Hoje faço vinte anos, comecei a faculdade há um ano, mas ele me deu um aviso. Se eu contasse a alguém sobre o que aconteceu comigo, essa pessoa sofreria as consequências, e infelizmente, eu também. Meu pai lidava com pessoas ruins e fazia coisas ilegais, então desde o ensino médio, afastei as pessoas que queriam ser minhas amigas, maltratei-as, fui fria com todos e os afastei de mim. Mas o que eu mais quero é um parceiro, um amigo que possa me ajudar, só que não quero machucá-los porque preciso deles.

Sempre amei arte, adoro desenhar, é a única coisa que me mantém viva, e é tão maravilhoso poder expressar tudo o que sinto através do desenho. Por isso escolhi a escola de arte, tive que implorar para ele me deixar ir para a escola de arte quando me formei no ensino médio. Fui espancada várias vezes, fiquei em coma por três ou cinco dias por causa dos meus ferimentos, mas ainda assim não desisti, continuei pedindo até que ele me permitiu pintar.

Fiz o vestibular e passei com a maior nota, mas sofri muito para conseguir os materiais, quantas noites chorei no meu quarto com a dor no corpo, meu braço estava quebrado, meu corpo inteiro estava roxo, mas não desisti porque não havia como desistir, e eu nem podia morrer em paz, então tudo o que me restava era tentar pelo menos ganhar a vida nesse mar de sofrimento.

É difícil para mim ser fria com as pessoas que querem ser minhas amigas, sinto culpa por ser cruel com elas, mas não tenho escolha a não ser ser.


08:30 - Casa dos Conner - EUA - Washington.

Eu estava acordada desde as cinco da manhã porque tinha que limpar a casa inteira e preparar a comida dele antes de ir para a faculdade, e se eu não fizesse isso, levaria uma surra. Bem, ainda estou me recuperando das surras que levei só porque cheguei um pouco tarde em casa e não tinha dinheiro para pegar o ônibus, então fui andando para a faculdade, o que me levou cerca de trinta minutos, ou uma hora se eu estivesse machucada. Eu estava com muita dor, mas infelizmente, não podia fazer nada a respeito.

"Onde está meu café, garota?" Fiquei assustada com o grito dele.

Peguei a bandeja e levei para a sala onde ele estava sentado.

"Aqui." Coloquei na mesa.

Puxei as mangas da minha blusa até cobrirem minhas mãos para mostrar meu nervosismo. Mordi o lábio com força quando ele agarrou meu pulso tão forte que pensei que ele ficaria roxo.

"Se você se atrasar de novo! Vou te bater muito, garota. Mesmo que você desmaie, não vou te deixar em paz! Está me ouvindo?" Assenti várias vezes.

"Responda, droga!"

"Entendi." Resisti à vontade de chorar.

"Bom trabalho." Ele soltou meu pulso e eu rapidamente o puxei para o peito.

"Saia daqui!"

Corri de volta para a cozinha, peguei minha mochila no balcão e saí pela porta dos fundos com o coração acelerado.

Meu coração parecia que ia sair pela boca, eu estava tão assustada, pensei que ele me bateria de novo. Eu estava com tanta fome que nem tinha dinheiro para comprar nada.

Por que eu tinha que sofrer tanto? O que eu tinha feito?

Caminhei cuidadosamente no chão molhado, porque tinha chovido a manhã toda, e vi uma poça d'água e olhei para o meu reflexo.

Eu era magra, quer dizer, sempre fui magra.

Minha pele era marrom clara, meu cabelo liso era preto escuro, e meus olhos eram de cores diferentes porque nasci com heterocromia: azul claro no esquerdo e verde claro no direito. Minha altura era normal porque eu nem podia comer direito, então como poderia crescer mais? Tenho 1,75m e sou relativamente esbelta, com seios pequenos e um bumbum pequeno.

Mas notei que estou um pouco pálida, o que não é novidade.

Tenho que ir antes que seja tarde demais.

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