Mr Bolton My Possessive CEO

Maria Eduarda

Honestly, I don't know how I managed to get home. I enter silently so as not to wake my sister, and I end up moaning when I accidentally bump into the banister and grit my teeth to keep from screaming, only letting out a small groan of pain.

I go up the stairs, or rather, I go crawling, and at last I manage to reach my room. I close the door and don't turn on the light—I was afraid to see how hurt I was.

I'm walking very slowly, and every step I took was torture, and I was always leaning against the wall until I reached my little table, where I had a notebook and also some books.

I didn't always need to turn on the light in the room, since I had a lamp. As soon as I can reach it, I light it up and see my bruised fingers. I feel the tears already flowing. I open the diary I got from my sister and start writing. Even writing hurts. I start to cry softly.

“Dear Diary, Today was my 18th birthday!”