QUOTES

101 " It was like someone had died-like I had died. Because it had to be more than just losing the truest of true love as if that were not enough to kill anyone. It was also losing a whole future, a whole family- the whole life that I'd chosen…

Mr. Anderson went on in a hopeless tone. ‘I don't know if she's going to get over it-I'm not sure if it's in her nature to heal from something like this. She's always been such a constant little thing. She doesn't get past things, change her mind.’

‘She's one of a kind,’ Olivia agreed in a dry voice.

‘And Olivia…’ Mr. Anderson hesitated. ‘Now, you know how fond I am of you, and I can tell that she's happy to see you, but… I'm a little worried about what your visit will do to her.’

‘So am I, Mr. Anderson, so am I. I wouldn't have come if I'd had any idea. I'm sorry.’

‘Don't apologize, honey. Who knows? Maybe it will be good for her.’

‘I hope you're right.’

There was a long break while Pittsburgh scraped plates and Mr. Anderson chewed.

I wondered where Olivia was hiding the food.

‘Olivia, I have to ask you something,’ Mr. Anderson said awkwardly.

Olivia was calm. ‘Go ahead.’

‘He's not coming back to visit, too, is he?’ I could hear the suppressed anger in Mr. Anderson’s voice.

Olivia answered in a soft, reassuring tone. ‘He doesn't even know I'm here.

The last time I spoke with him, he was in South America.’

I stiffened as I heard this added information and listened harder.

‘That's something, at least.’ Mr. Anderson snorted. ‘Well, I hope he's enjoying himself.’

For the first time, Olivia's voice had a bit of steel in it. ‘I wouldn't make assumptions, Mr. Anderson.’ I knew how her eyes would flash when she used that tone.

A chair scooted from the table, scraping loudly across the floor. I pictured Mr. Anderson getting up; there was no way Olivia would make that kind of noise. The faucet ran, splashing against a dish. "

― , Nevaeh Hard to Let Go

103 " Breath!’ A voice, wild with anxiety, ordered, and I felt a cruel stab of pain where I recognized the voice because it wasn't Marcel’s.

I could not obey. The waterfall pouring from my mouth didn't stop long enough for me to catch a breath. The black, icy water filled my chest, burning.

The rock smacked into my back again, right between my shoulder blades, and another volley of water choked its way out of my lungs.

‘Breathe, Bell! C'mon!’ Marcel begged.

Black spots bloomed across my vision, getting wider and wider, blocking out the light.

The rock struck me again.

The rock wasn't cold like the water; it was hot on my skin. I realized it was Marcel’s hand, trying to beat the water from my lungs. The iron bar that had dragged me from the sea was also… warm… My head whirled; the black spots covered everything…

Was I dying again, then? I didn't like it. This wasn't as good as the last time. It was only dark now, nothing worth looking at here. The sound of the crashing waves faded into the black and became a quiet, even whoosh that sounded like it was coming from the inside of my ears…

‘Bell?’ Marcel asked, his voice still tense, but not as wild as before. ‘Bells, honey, can you hear me?’

The contents of my head swished and rolled sickeningly like they'd joined the rough water…

‘How long has she been unconscious?’ someone else asked.

The voice that was not Marcel’s shocked me, jarred me into a more focused awareness.

I realized that I was still. There was no tug of the current on me-the heaving was inside my head. The surface under me was flat and motionless. It felt grainy against my bear arms.

‘I don't know,’ Marcel reported, still frantic. His voice was very close. Hands-so warm they had to be his- I brushed wet hair from my cheeks. ‘A few minutes? It didn't take long to tow her to the beach.’ The quiet whooshing inside my ears was not the waves-it was the air moving in and out of my lungs again. Each breath burned-the passageways were as raw as if I'd scrubbed them out with steel wool. But I was breathing.

And I was freezing. A thousand sharp, icy beads were striking my face and arms, making the cold worse.

‘She's breathing. She'll come around. We should get her out of the cold, though. I don't like the color she's turning…’ I recognized Sam's voice this time.

‘You think it's okay to move her?’

‘She didn't hurt her back or anything when she fell?’

‘I don't know.’

They hesitated. "

― , Nevaeh Hard to Let Go

105 " I pressed my eyes more tightly shut. I was still dreaming, it seemed, and it felt abnormally real. I was so close to waking… any second now, and it would be gone. All the same and all, I recognized that it felt too real, too real to be good for me. The stone arms I imagined wrapped encompassing me were far too abundant. If I let this go any further, I'd be melancholy for it later. With a resigned sigh, I yanked back my eyelids to dispel the delusion.

‘Oh!’ I gasped and threw my fists over my eyes.

Well, I'd gone too far; it must have been a mistake to let my imagination get so out of hand. "

― , Nevaeh Hard to Let Go

107 " Kristen- So you know I ran… and he got me. He had his belt in hand ready to whip me, and he did repeatedly until I fell to the ground, with him straddling me, his hand touching me, he started pinching me, and that is when he pierced my nipple with an old rusty nail. ‘Honey hush,’ he said as I screamed, even more, the second time; because I knew the pain was picking and nearing. He laughed-

‘Saying now everything matches!’ I recall him saying this- as he pulled me up dragging me by the hair.

‘Good now your bare ass can rub up on the bark of the tree, and then I can smack it later on tonight. You would like that? Wouldn’t you? My little bitch!’

Kristen- I had to say- ‘Yes, Yes- I would!’ I screamed louder than I have ever had in my entire life! For the reason that I knew what was coming! I could see him coming with the cruel tools in hand! I was thinking to myself. ‘Please God don’t let him have a screwdriver.’’ Because knew what he would do with it, and where it would be shoved in! Just for the hell of it, he drew a target on my tummy with my lipstick and started throwing tools like wrenches, trying to hit the same spot. I thought for sure something of his was going to go deep inside me. He looked at me, flashing scissors, and said in a sick way. ‘Look, baby, these are the same scissors your momma used to slit her wrist. He slapped them in my hand, and said it is your choice; you can do the same thing she had the choice of... What do you say? You know these are the very same scissors, that gave your mother the episiotomy that brought you into this world. Now they can be the same scissors to take you out.’

Gasping for breath in being so appalled, I remember saying- ‘What did I do to you?’

He said- ‘It is not what you did to me, it is what they want, and what I was asked to do, and what they will do to me if I don’t!’

I said- ‘Who are they?’ He whispered in my ear, as well as he bit it- my earlobe with his teeth afterward saying. - ‘You are that stupid? I knew it! Will If I tell you, I will have to kill you.’ He said- (In a very paranoid, yet almost cocky tone of voice.)

So, I yelled back- ‘Just do it- you- vain shit-face!’

That is when he did it, one by one. Yes, one toe by toe, all the nails went in and through my fingernails and flesh. This happened to my hand, palm, and wrists one nail at a time. (Bang! Bang! Bang!) Until the point that I was able to suspend from them alone on the tree. The same tree that he carved our names into, saying forever and ever. I have to say at that point I did not want to live, saying get me down!

Then he yelled- ‘Not yet- my baby! "

― , Nevaeh Struggle with Affections

109 " When white angels replenish their
supply they have a puff of glittery sparks, that
expels from their body as they shoot back up into
flight, they do not need to feed off anything other
than the Divine's love, and the love from the
others that they receive, they may die yet they live
on. When falling, angels die in a battle, they
reappear themselves repeatedly, as they catch fire,
and slowly burn down to a black carbon like
powdery ash in crumbling destruction of
disintegration. As well as they just keep coming
back to life also.
They suck the blood of humans like me,
which are on the floor until their energies can be repaired. When they do need to be replaced and
replenished, they steal someone’s living soul to
keep living on, that is what the sisters help them
do. "

― , Nevaeh Struggle with Affections

111 " Kristen, she was like a child prostitute for the clan. Besides, when she did not comply, she would face the wrath of all of them. Ava Amsel liked to pick her up by her matted hair, and smack her bare ass with her hands and other random objects until her butt was cherry red with blood, and she broke open her hymen back then too, as you know. Kristen remembers the blood running down her legs, and her getting all up in there with her fingers, and also being held down, and chained to the wall, and bed headboard.

She was deflowered at the age of four. Way too young to lose her innocence by anyone… Yet that is what happened, thanks to the Amsel’s kids and their whole fucked up, and perverted family, and the other kids that were around her.

I could just kill Ava for this, and smash her faultless face in, certainly to a bloody pulp, and not even blink I hate her that much! She and her other kids in her family used to say that they were going to bury her alive, out in the backyard; so, their three dogs could chew on her bones after they dug her small remands back up. One of their punishments was to spit chewed, chewing tobacco, and also other organic matter into her mouth… and indeed they made her swallow it all, and stick out her tongue to prove it was all gone. "

― , Nevaeh Struggle with Affections

113 " Expression of the bygone

All relationships are going to end naturally or not. It is all up to you and what you want, I choose to stay in this relationship forever, and doing it is too difficult sometimes. Just remember you have choices in life. So, what are you going to listen to? Your inner voice or the ones that are all around you and me?

It is just like we all needed to get off the cyber walls and take our life’s back. The webbed walls were doing nothing but showing names with faces that label others with either good or bad stigmas, it could not be deleted, and it would follow you everywhere you went… even if you had a past that was made up by someone else it remained with you. It needed to end; it was ripping the world apart. I still believe that we all need to find real friends in person if you can in this day and age, we should not spend all of our free time looking at faces on a screen, that are deceiving what true thoughts of friendship should stand for. Please remember they are not your so-called friends… they are not your friends on there at all, if you do not or cannot talk to them in real life.

Then what in the hell makes, you think you can chat with them on the webbed walls of the internet, and not real life? They are just there to look into your business, so stop being stupid. They do not care about you at all. They are stopping you from achieving your desires in your life, by talking or chatting behind your back, and how do you truly know what they are saying if you are blocked out, or who it is that is saying it. They do not care about you! So, I ask why should you care about them by having them on a profile or friends list; it is useless and completely immature? "

― , Nevaeh Struggle with Affections

115 " Sometimes, I lean out my split-pane window that seems to be high off the ground, and I can hear the whistling wind stream through the leaves of the growth of trees, sometimes this reminds me about being in the garden and golden fields when my eyes are closed. But, when my eyes were open, I realized that it is just the wind rushing through the various hills and valleys of ‘The Land of Many Steeples.’ I do not know what it is… but there is just something about letting your hair blow in the breeze, which feels so amazing. I feel that it is just one of the amazing moments in time, which I have experienced. Oh, just the same can be said, about me standing in the rain, freely and naturally on a warm spring day, while I am filling the ground squish under my toes.
Yes, likewise can be said for the winters when I come home from the hellhole, and see the fireplace with its warm glow, from outside the frost chilled arched windows of the tort section of the house that is part of the dwelling. ‘It is amazing also because I know that I will soon be warm and comfortable, and out of this uniform that labels me as one of them.’ In the wintertime, the snowdrifts, the pointed part of the roof along with the weathervane are covered in a blanket of white, ‘The Land of Many Steeples’ sparkles, and soft with an almost spooky light blue cast in the moonlight.
The trees down the lane drip with ice like a crystal cave, but- yet we all carve a pathway down the road that leads to the hell and then back to the emptiness. Snow days are rare, but that does not matter to me either way because I cannot truly share it with anyone it seems, as you all know. So, would you be my friend if I asked you? Would you spend some time with me? Can I depend on you; I would be there for you!
So, on any day in any weather condition, unless the fog is rising from the valley, I can see in the distance ‘The Land of Many Steeples’, a far cry from this country land, where the dwelling of lost and lonely dreams is upon. Then there are some days there are thunderstorms outside my window, and it takes me back to the past, like when I was in that dark room. I do not think anyone gets over their past, the past that haunts me, and a past that the tower uses against me. Yes, you can change your name. Change your hair, and change your style, but the words of slander will remain. The only thing I can do is find someone that does not care about what the words mean or say, or just plainly pray for it to all go away. "

― , Nevaeh Struggle with Affections

117 " Breaking on through to the other side; my life is coming to an end, yet I have nothing to hide, life is a journey that takes you on a dark ride. When you can see, and understand there are the doors of deception in your mind that doesn’t subside, you will understand that life is like a red river that comes in tides, as you try to make your strides.
All I have left are the memories and the people that died.
However, I can at least say that I never lied; I recall all those that cried; all the ones that were denied. At least we can say we tried, and never gave up even after diving into the other side. Now the gates are open deep, vast, and wide.
Yet it is going to be me, a witch walks on the inside? Who and what will deny?
~Neveah~ "

― , Nevaeh The Cursed

119 " She was the only one that we saw out of the fifty or so children in which they took care of. The same can be said for the boy, grant he had light brown hair, with a pinkish undertone. His goldish green eyes faded, with all creativity drained from them, just like them all I would presume. I think he was ten, he always seems to be distracted, he was a chatterbox, yet never said anything that made, you want to overhear, he would stutter a lot saying the words ‘smack’ and ‘bite’ over and over, yet I only saw him once in that house.
I do believe that many erotic things were going on between the kids just by the way they appeared; I would go as far as to say there was incest. I remember seeing Alissa with her after we got back; she would be glaring at me, as most would do in town. Maybe she was afraid I would say something, or maybe she just wanted me back even now, that she cannot have me. I do not know how she feels, or what she feels, I never really did, and I do not care.
Gracie, this girl she was always so pale-skinned like she never saw the light of day much- I believe that she did not see much sun, she didn't even know how to talk to anyone, other than a couple of minor phrases. When I was over at my girlfriend’s home both kids along with most of the others lived up in a dark damp room, that I would call their attic space. With one or two double beds, pushed together that they shared, or so that is what I have come to believe. I was never up there, yet sometimes you could hear the laughter and their tears, and even slight screams.
You could hear their murmurs in the walls. I think I could hear them all being like rabbits and going at it, the thrusting thumps on the ceiling plus all the pitter-patter of little feet above! Yet that is what I was estimating was going on, and no my mind just does not think like that, something was very wrong! It made me nauseated just being in that house with her, it was that vile. Yet the lower parts that they live in were neat as a pin! Like all the girls’ rooms, except for Allison, there was food all over the place. "

― , Nevaeh The Cursed