Born Again to Fight

Born Again to Fight

Gavin

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My adopted daughters, Ashley and Emily, were supposed to be our pride and joy. We had given them everything, a loving home, a future. But then, the memory hit me like a physical blow: the boot flying towards my face, the crushing weight on my chest, the screams, the smell of gasoline and fire. I jolted awake, gasping, only to see Mark breathing softly beside me, the digital clock glowing 3:17 AM. My heart hammered. It wasn't a dream. I remembered the whispers turning to shouts: "Child abusers! He got them pregnant!" Mark' s medical report, proving his infertility, clutched in my hand, was ignored, torn from my grasp. The first rock hit my temple. The mob dragged me from our porch, overwhelming Mark as he tried to shield me. They killed me right there on our lawn. And Ashley and Emily, our 'sweet' daughters, stood by, their bellies just beginning to show. How could these girls, whom we loved, accuse us of such a monstrous crime? Why did the world believe their tear-stained lies over undeniable medical proof? The horror lingered, a burning question in my soul. But this time, a cold certainty settled in my gut. I was back. Alive. I had one chance. This time, I wouldn't die. They wouldn't win.

Introduction

My adopted daughters, Ashley and Emily, were supposed to be our pride and joy.

We had given them everything, a loving home, a future.

But then, the memory hit me like a physical blow: the boot flying towards my face, the crushing weight on my chest, the screams, the smell of gasoline and fire.

I jolted awake, gasping, only to see Mark breathing softly beside me, the digital clock glowing 3:17 AM.

My heart hammered.

It wasn't a dream.

I remembered the whispers turning to shouts: "Child abusers!

He got them pregnant!"

Mark' s medical report, proving his infertility, clutched in my hand, was ignored, torn from my grasp.

The first rock hit my temple.

The mob dragged me from our porch, overwhelming Mark as he tried to shield me.

They killed me right there on our lawn.

And Ashley and Emily, our 'sweet' daughters, stood by, their bellies just beginning to show.

How could these girls, whom we loved, accuse us of such a monstrous crime?

Why did the world believe their tear-stained lies over undeniable medical proof?

The horror lingered, a burning question in my soul.

But this time, a cold certainty settled in my gut.

I was back.

Alive.

I had one chance.

This time, I wouldn't die.

They wouldn't win.

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When Love Turns to Ash

When Love Turns to Ash

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4.0

My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

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