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Ruby Taylor

I'm a 15 year old girl and I've always loved reading stories and writing them. I have written various stories in the past. I want to start writing more because I'm very interested in the topic and I decided to use Opuss to do this.

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  • 01-01-70
  • Vivre dans United Kingdom

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Ruby Taylor
Traduire   12 années depuis

Neglect 1950 The anxious, frail young girl moved awkwardly down the dingy, narrow corridor of her apartment, focusing on her every footstep which, if worse came to worse, could awake her parents; along with any other strange men whom were bunking at her house for the night; or to participate in strange activities with her mother and father. She edged her way into the dirty, damp-walled kitchen, avoiding every area of the worn floorboards that would let out and almighty creak if she were to walk on them. She had been used to creeping around her house at night on the search for food for so long that she knew exactly how to walk around without making a sound. She was constantly terrified of her parents waking up, because with their drugged-up frames of mind, they could badly hurt her; or worse. Sadly, the girl come to know this very well. The sights and smells of the kitchen disgusted her. The scent of strong whiskey and strange chemical substances entered her nostrils and second-hand cigarette smoke filled her weak lungs. The cracked dirty dishes and cups filled the sink, piling high. Cigarette butts littered the floor. On the worktops was an odd collection of small plastic bags, some filled with money, and others filled with things the girl did not know of. Dirt and dust covered the surfaces and the slight draft caused the ghostly cobwebs on the ceiling to sway back and forth. The door of the small, cheap fridge in the corner had been carelessly left open, displaying a very unsightly view - flies ate away at the remains of month-old cheese, and the milk was mouldy and well past it's due date. A cockroach made its way out of the crack in the fridge door, causing the girl to shudder and turn away. All she managed to find was a small bag of peanuts, probably picked up from the local pub, which the girl devoured quickly, barely satisfying her excruciating hunger. She prayed to god that her father would not find out before swiftly making her way back to the room in which she slept upon the hard wooden floors with a tatty cushion to rest her head and a thin, threadbare blanket to cover her skinny, shivering body. She lay there dreading their return- especially her father's; as she knew he would beat her. Neglect was all the girl knew.

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