Page 1 of Crybaby

Firstly, I’m dedicating this book to my co-author, Monica James, because without her, I’d be lost.This book was inspired by a conversation we had regarding a sexual assault I experienced during my high school years.

The feelings and words expressed are all those that came from the heart and then rolled into a wild fictitious story with satisfying revenge elements. Monica’s character, Rev, will forever be my crush, and he is living and breathing in my heart and mind.

I’m grateful to have gone on this journey with Monica and cannot wait to begin book 2.

For anyone who has experienced sexual assault, I stand by you with strength and compassion. You’re not alone.

I hope you enjoy this dark little tale as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Much love,

Michelle xoxo

This goes without saying, but this book is for my partner-in-crime, my soulmate, the love of my freaking life, Michelle.

This book wasn’t easy for either of us. But it helped us heal. It helped us escape the darkness which threatened to drag us under. It was therapy. And I am so blessed to have shared this crazy ride with Michelle. This year has tested me in every possible way, and Michelle has held my hand for every step of the way.

So my little monsters…welcome to our deliciously dark world.

MJ xo

There’s something about the force of a kick to the head that lets you know you’re human. The blood rushing in your ears, pulsing to the beat of your heart. Everything sounds like it’sunderwater. Like the water in my brain sloshing around, realigning synapses.

I was reborn that night.

In the dirt, in the grass, amongst smelly guys with their cheap aftershave and wet cocks. Their voices barely broken and cheering as if it’s a homecoming game to egg each other on.

“Fuck her harder.”

“Hold her down.”

Words that will forever echo in the deep recesses of my mind.

I was dragged by my arms across a football field that night,as if I’m not light enough to carry.

The floodlights blinded my eyes as they rolled back into my head, which hit the edge of the bleachers at one point. I still have the scar on my scalp.

War wounds.

I thought God would save me and just let me pass out. My parents taught me that God was our Savior and Heavenly Father. But life is cruel, and survival instincts made me stay awake to watch and witness every moment.

Did they know they were creating a monster that night when they used my body like a fun park? Deflowering me as my naked ass kissed the night sky.

I broke my fingernails clawing at the dirt just trying to dig my own grave.

They tore at my clothes and used me like a fuck toy for their own amusement. Was it power, lust, or revenge? I’ll never know, and I don’t care.

I found something within me that night, with every thrust and beating…I got a taste for havoc. I knew then that I’d be back for him, and him…and him too.

A wrath so bittersweet…I could taste it mixedwith the blood in my mouth as I screamed silently into the night…Forgiveme, Father, for I will sin.

Three days.

72 hours.

4,320minutes.

259,200 seconds.

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