#to protect the innocent - are like. significantly worse than single first name girls. even if they drop one of those names which most do

[mayfriend]

@ people who work in education/with kids: what is the naughtiest kid you know and is their name jayden

[marvxlousqueen]

Warren Worthington- Share My Bed

word count: 2.7K ish 

warnings: small mentions of sex, a little cussing, FLUFF

summary: reader is always getting kicked out of her room and becomes friends with peter (maximoff) and meets warren, his roommate-- also i wrote peter as like a huge ping pong fanatic whoops sorry not sorry 

i’m such a slut for soft warren so :)) enjoy this please

One of the perks of being a student at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters was the opportunity to learn to control your special abilities to better protect yourself and others. One of the cons that (Y/n) had most recently discovered, was having roommates. Since the whole Apocalypse incident, a lot more mutants had enrolled in the school, either they heard about it from the news broadcastings and decided to find it for themselves or their parents enrolled them, fearing that they could get hurt if not trained properly (which is 100% true). (Y/n) thankfully didn’t have to room with any of the newbies, but she did have to move into Jean’s room. It could’ve been worse, at least she was close to Jean, having been friends with her since even before the thing with Apocalypse.

One bad thing about rooming with Jean was the fact that Jean and Scott like to spend time together. A lot of time together. Doing things. Meaning, almost every day (Y/n) was asked (not so politely) to leave the room for an hour or two. She often voiced her opinion on this. “Why can’t you guys go fuck in Scott’s room? It’s not fair! I have homework to do and I need to be in here with all my books and my desk, okay? I don’t care how horny you guys are, just suck it up!” 

(Y/n)’s opinions never seemed to have any impact on Jean or Scott. Scott would always say the same, short apology about how he didn’t want to risk scarring Kurt, Scott’s new roommate, for life (since Kurt was one of the more innocent students of Xavier’s school). Jean would always give her puppy dog eyes and whisper in (Y/n)’s mind, “I would do it for you and you know that.” 

(Y/n) knew Jean was right, she would do it for her, but luckily for Jean (and unluckily for (Y/n)) no boy seemed remotely interested in her. Ever since Jean and Scott had started up their after school fucking sessions, she had started to seek refuge in Peter’s room. Peter Maximoff was... interesting to say the least. He was quick on his feet and even quicker to make sarcastic remarks so she quite enjoyed his company. (Y/n) had first met him last school year when he single-handedly saved the entire student body and staff from being blown up. They had become quite the pair of friends since then, sharing music taste and enjoying a good game of ping pong (even if (Y/n) wasn’t able to keep up). 

Even Peter, one of the older students/trainees, had been affected by the roommate situation, which effectively put a damper on their hang out time. About a week after they started to hang out, Hank had stopped by to announce that Peter would be getting a roommate. Hank briefly described the boy as one of Apocalypse’s minions who was now in need of a new home so that he hopefully wouldn’t wander into dark forces again. 

Peter had not been pleased, at all. Professor Xavier had made him move his ping pong table into the ‘game room’ (which also included Peter’s old Pac-Man game and a crappy pool table) to make room for another bed. 

Two days later Peter’s roommate had showed up while (Y/n) was kicked out of her room. He was absolutely terrifying. (Y/n) immediately recognized him, even though he looked significantly different than he had during the battle. She recalled him having metal wings, which she had seen rip many of her fellow classmates to shreds. They were gone, replaced by feathered white ones. His face was the same, shaved sides of his head and threatening face tattoos, serving as a constant reminder of the things he did. (Y/n) wanted to ask how he had changed his wings so quickly, but was too scared to do so. Lucky for her, Hank had taken the opportunity to explain after Peter had asked a similar question. 

“We were able to remove the metal pieces and he grew his original wings back just fine. He will be on bed rest for the next few days though, still recovering.” He didn’t mention if they attempted to remove the face tattoos, but (Y/n) was too stunned to ask Hank about them. He grew back his wings? Holy shit that must hurt, she thought. 

The boy, Warren (which she had learned from Peter), had stepped out to get a bite from the cafeteria. “So, did Hank really say he’d be on bed rest for a few days? I don’t like that.” Peter had looked up at her, slightly confused, “It’s no big deal. He doesn’t seem to talk much. We can still do our thing.”

(Y/n) shook her head, “He scares me. Sorry, Pete. I’ll find somewhere else to hang for today and the next few days till he’s out and about.”

Peter wasn’t going to take this. First, he lost his ping pong table, then he had to get a roommate, and now he was losing precious pong time with a friend? Nope. Not happening. “Come on, (Y/n)! You aren’t leaving me like this! We have table tennis to play, and he’s not scary so come on!” She shook her head before standing up to leave. 

Peter rushed in front of her, using his super speed. “Nope, nuh uh. Please stay, I’ll get so bored!” (Y/n) rolled her eyes at this. “Peter, you get bored at everything!” 

“Exactly! Come on, I’ll get us pizza and milkshakes as a thank you.” After rolling her eyes once more, (Y/n) finally nodded. Peter quickly slipped on his goggles and gave her arm a quick squeeze. “Stay here, okay? I’ll be back, two minutes-tops.” Peter left before she could get another word in. (Y/n) moved to sit down on Peter’s bed, waiting.

Not even thirty seconds later the door opened (causing (Y/n) to stand up) and in walked- that’s not Peter, she thought. Peter’s roommate, Warren, shuffled through the door, hands full, struggling to fit with his half opened wings. “Do.. do you need a hand?” (Y/n) was hesitant in asking this, worried that she might actually have to hold a conversation with him. She was sure she wouldn’t be able to speak with his cold eyes staring her down. To her surprise he nodded, handing her a plate he was holding. “You know, most people eat in the cafeteria. We’re not really supposed to bring food back into our rooms... attracts roaches.” That sounded condescending, didn’t it? And why would I mention roaches, ew!

(Y/n) waited for a response, but none came. She moved to place his dish of pasta down on the desk that had been assigned as his. 

“I know.” His voice made (Y/n)’s head snap up, “huh?”

“I know I’m supposed to eat in the cafeteria. I was going to sit down, but there were no empty tables. I can’t just sit with people.” 

(Y/n)’s eyebrows furrowed at his statement. “Why-um, why can’t you sit with people?” His eyes finally met hers, moving up from where they were on the floor. (Y/n) had thought she would’ve found nothing but coldness in his eyes, but instead she found a certain warmth that she hadn’t seen in anyone before. 

“No one wants to sit with me. They’re scared of me, everyone is.” His head dropped again and he took a seat on his bed, remembering how Hank told him to keep his movements to a minimum. She felt awful that she was ever scared of him. He just wanted to be liked, get a fresh start. Right as (Y/n) was about to respond, Peter ran into the room, covered in some sort of pink substance, but still holding two boxes of pizza and two shakes, as promised.  

“Hey! Sorry I’m late, spilled a strawberry milkshake while I was trying to get out of there fast.” Peter placed the items on his desk, acknowledging Warren with a small nod. “Why were you trying to get out fast, Peter?” (Y/n) had heard enough about him from Professor Xavier and Hank to know he was quite the kleptomaniac. “I was, you know-just wanted the pizza to stay hot..?”

“Oh god Peter, you stole them!” 

“No! I mean-technically yes, but they were freshly made and the place was going to close without selling them. They would’ve been thrown away! And... stolen pizza tastes so much better.” (Y/n) rolled her eyes. She knew she shouldn’t expect anything less than criminal activity from Peter, but god he was just so damn cheap sometimes. “You have a problem, Peter. Like a serious problem.” 

“Oh shut up and eat your stolen pizza.” 

The rest of the afternoon was pizza and ping pong (on the table that Peter had snuck back in, which took up about the only open space that was left in the room) until Jean spoke to (Y/n) in her head. “You can come back. Scott is gone.” 

(Y/n) bid her goodbye to Peter and gave Warren a quick smile before leaving, tired and not wanting to be awake any longer. 

After (Y/n) closed the door Warren sat back up, trying to appear more friendly before speaking to Peter. “So-uhm. What’s her name? The, the girl..” Warren’s face felt a little hot, still shy talking to Peter. “(Y/n). She’s been a student here for a couple years now. She fought with us last year too, you might remember that.” Peter didn’t mean to bring up last year’s battle, but it just slipped out. 

“Yes, I remember.. I remember all of that. Regret it too.” In a sudden flash of silver, Peter was seated next to Warren, patting his shoulder. “It’s alright bro, no one blames you. I totally would’ve done anything a blue-god-mutant-dude-thingy told me to, especially if he was offering me rewards. I get it.” 

Warren felt his chest lighten, relief flooding him. He liked the idea of no one blaming him. Maybe this place will work out after all, he thought.

The next day after classes, (Y/n) was expecting to have to head to Peter’s room, but was surprised to not find Scott in Jean’s bed. “Where’s Scotty at?” 

Jean looked up from her books, “Special training with Professor Xavier. He’s coming over tonight though.” (Y/n)’s eyes widened comically, “Tonight? As in night time? What-what, just-no!”

“Come on, (Y/n). We’ve been dating for almost a year and haven’t slept in the same bed, it’s weird.” (Y/n) shook her head, still in shock at what Jean was trying to explain to her. “No! No no no! I don’t care how long you’ve been dating, I will not be kicked out of my room at night time! Where am I supposed sleep?” 

“I would do it for you, (Y/n). You know that.” (Y/n) groaned, knowing Jean would do it for her if she ever had a boyfriend over. “Fine... I need to go find somewhere to sleep tonight.” Jean nodded, returning to her homework. 

(Y/n) wandered down the hall to Peter’s room, knocking quickly. He opened the door before jumping back onto his bed. “Hey! Jean and Scott at it already? Seems early.” She shook her head, pushing his legs over so she can sit. “No they’re not. Scott is training and Jean decided it would be a genius idea to have him over tonight, like to spend the night. Can I sleep in here? Please..” 

Warren’s head flicked up at her words. He wasn’t sure how he felt about (Y/n) staying with them. He probably wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing she was there. What if I snored? Or sleep talked about her? What if I woke up with a boner and she saw? He wasn’t sure why his heart was racing so much. He had only known her for a day, but she seemed so.. so nice and carefree. He wanted that in his life, wanted her in his life. 

Peter nodded, “Jean and Scott are kind of assholes, you know, for doing that to you, but yeah sure. We can squeeze you in, right Warren? You okay with that?”

Warren nodded, eyes meeting hers. “Oh thank you so much! Let me go grab some pillows and blankets to make my bed on the floor.” She rushed out and headed back down the hallway to her and Jean’s room. She opened the door, seeing Scott already sitting on Jean’s bed. “You’re here early. Does that mean I can sleep in my own bed tonight?” Scott just looked over to Jean, hoping she would know the correct answer. “He’s still staying the night.” (Y/n) groaned, “Great... I need to grab some stuff.” 

“Oh lighten up (Y/n). It’s a Friday night, it’s not like we have classes in the morning.”

“Shut it, Summers.” She grabbed her pillow before slamming the door shut, already making her way back to Peter and Warren’s room. Their door was still open so she walked straight in and began constructing her bed.. until she realized she had only brought a pillow. She left again, headed down the hall to grab her comforter. As she reached Jean’s door she saw the sock on the handle, which meant they were already at it. Those two are like rabbits, I swear.

She slowly walked back into Peter’s room, feet dragging. “Hey Pete, I can’t make a bed. I don’t have any blankets so can I borrow some?” (Y/n) looked at Peter’s bed, hoping to see extra blankets she could use, but her eyes were met with just a single sheet stretched out. Right, Peter doesn’t use blankets.

Peter generates so much heat at night, he can’t sleep with more than a sheet on him. He shook his head, “I don’t have any, sorry. But you can just share my bed. It’s roomy and I don’t take up a lot of space.”

Warren’s eyes opened, he did not like the idea of (Y/n) sleeping in Peter’s bed. He wanted to offer her his blanket, but with his wings still recovering, Hank told him he needed to keep his body temperature up at all times. 

“Oh.. okay I guess, but if you try to make any moves, Maximoff, you’re dead.” He nodded, slight smirk on his face, “Can’t make any promises.” 

They spent the next few hours in the shitty game room playing pac man before playing an intense game of ping pong. At 10 o’clock, Warren was headed to sleep, body exhausted from regrowing his wings. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep, too busy thinking about (Y/n) being curled up in Peter’s bed, but he might as well try seeing as how he had nothing better to do. 

Since Warren and Peter are roommates, if Warren was going to bed that meant Peter was also going to bed. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, (Y/n) soon followed. Their bodies had a good couple inches between them, but she could still feel Peter’s movements. (Y/n) was woken up at 11 o’clock to Peter kicking her. She sat up and saw Peter moving rapidly. He looked like he was running in his sleep, continuously kicking her. (Y/n) scooted closer to the edge of his bed to avoid his legs, but after another few kicks, Peter kicked her off the bed. 

“Ow, fuck..” She whispered her words, trying not to wake up Warren (but of course he had been awake the whole night and heard her body hit the ground).

His raspy voice spoke out into the darkness, “Y-you okay?”

“No, Peter is a bitch to share a bed with. He literally kicked me off.”

Warren reached up to turn on his bedside lamp, seeing her laying on the floor, shivering. His mouth opened before he could stop himself. “You can share my bed.”

(Y/n) looked up so fast she could’ve sworn she got whiplash, “What?” In the dim lighting she was still able to see the blush form on Warren’s face. “I-I just meant... you know, since the floor is cold and I have a.. bed.”

“Okay.” Warren was surprised, seeing her jump up and climb into his bed. “O-okay. And s-sorry if my wings get in the way. Also they’re kind of hot so if you need to move the blanket we can.”

She shook her head, pulling the blanket over her. Warren saw that she was still shivering so he wrapped his wings around her, not giving it a second thought, holding her between the warm feathers. He felt her hand grab his arm, wrapping it around her waist. Warren’s face burned, but he loved having her so close to him, all his previous worries flying out the window.  

“Good night, Warren.”

“Night, (Y/n). Sweet dreams.” 

[prorevenge]

The puppet is now the puppeteer.

I'm a fairly new to the whole posting on Reddit thing and have just made this alternative account to share my story. Sorry for any weird formatting, obligatory first-time-poster-long-time-lurker warning.

Also, a TL;DR at the bottom since this is gonna be a long one.

​

The Context:

When I was four, my mother had just gotten with her new boyfriend. We'll call him B for Bastard. He seemed nice on the surface, he was an illegal immigrant that worked for a factory and lived in a ghetto apartment. But, just under his exterior was a cruel, evil monster that I knew was going to harm my mother and I in some way or another.

Soon after meeting B, my mother and him bought a house under my grandfather's name since they both had poor credit and wanted me in a good school system. We move in fast and get a little dog just before Christmas; we looked like a modern Hallmark family with the kid and the dog and the happy couple.

That is, until B's vibe changed.

He started to look at me in ways that made me uncomfortable. I wanted to tell my mom, but she was a firm believer in the "innocent until proven guilty" idea and I thought she wouldn't believe me. He started exposing himself around me, encouraged me to join him, even touched me in ways I couldn't understand and hated. I was 6.

When I was 8, we began learning what sexual abuse was in households, and I put the pieces together quickly. I still thought that my mother wouldn't believe me, though, and I grew numb to the habitual abuse.

When I was 9, mom got pregnant with my sister. I was nervous and cried every night knowing that she wouldn't be safe from this horrible, gnarly bastard that my mother called her boyfriend.

B refused to pick up extra hours at work when money got tight, so my mom picked up a second job whilst pregnant and he stayed home to watch me. Things only got worse. Then, the physical abuse and extreme mental stress on my mother started around the fourth month. We lost my sister on Christmas Eve, 2009, to a placenta abruption brought on by stress.

I'll never forget the sight of my mother in her dark hospital room. Sitting in her rocking chair. Empty. Lost. Numb.

B turned to me to let his frustrations out, both sexually and physically.

Mom was blissfully unaware as her daughter went into a downward spiral at the age of 11 and developed a phobia of boys even looking at her the wrong way. I made friends with all the weird kids at school, cut my hair, dressed in all black, started picking fights, got bullied for never speaking to anyone outside my tiny circle, and resented her and her precious B. She loved him despite all the abuse, or more so she was scared to leave him for fear of what he might do to her. If only she knew half the shit he did to her daughter.

In 2012, Mom became pregnant again. On October 22, 2012, my brother was born. From the videos I'd been introduced to by B, I knew my brother wasn't going to be safe, either. He swung both ways.

I became fiercely protective of my mother and brother. At the age of 12, I carried around heavy objects and hid them in my room in case he ever tried anything. Sadly, I was a 100 lbs. girl with the upper body strength of a toddler, and he was a fully grown "man" that could easily hurtle me across the states. He also had a zero tolerance policy with my brother for the sole fact that he was a boy.

My brother was born premature and would need the extra help to catch up. This didn't stop his father from beating him when he cried, yelling at him when he played with his toys, reprimanded him for using his left hand more than his right.

He was only 2.

And don't even get me started on when my brother played with the dog.

The dog, J, was starting to come to old age. She was crotchety and didn't like having her hair, ears, or tail pulled. Brother did this on accident one time, and this led to him getting the beating of a lifetime that left him almost mentally retarded, had it persisted. Ironic, too, because B didn't even like the dog. At this point, he was just looking for excuses to control and beat us whenever he could.

Behind the scenes, he also manipulated and threatened my mother. He had control of the bank accounts, health insurance, social security info, all sorts of papers that he could do with what he pleased. Mom, Brother, and I were puppets on strings in this sick household.

Then there was that sunny summer day.

They had gotten into a fight over who even remembers now, and I hear my door slam and lock. "I'm taking this kid with me back to Portugal, and you can't do anything about it, you stupid bitch." Oh, no. Not on my watch. In hysterics, I called the police and alerted them that my mom's now-husband was trying to kidnap my brother, said he was going to bring him back to Portugal and that we would never see him again. They came in an instant, and I jumped out the window to meet with them. My mother, grandmother, and brother had already been pulled from the house. Mom was still in hysterics, clutching her baby. I told the cops my side of things, despite my mother pleading for me to shut up and that everything was fine. Things clearly weren't fine, but when the police took B's testimony, he simply pleaded that he was just trying to take Brandon for a walk.

B was left off with a warning.

I couldn't take it anymore.

​

This is where the fun begins.

​

When I was 14, I had a breakdown in front of my mom and told her everything. And I mean, everything. She called him and told him what he told me. He came home immediately, and I could see the fire in her eyes. Sadly, he had more control over him than I thought, for she took his side by brute force and I was silenced. However, now I had the upper hand. I had used my voice to speak, and I could use it again. He became more complacent with me, but not towards my mother and brother. Nonetheless, I used this to my advantage.

With age, I learned how to channel the silver tongue that my birth dad had gifted me with. I told my mother as subtly as possible to watch her husband, for he could molest Brother the same way he did to me. Or even better, he could forget about his family entirely and run off with another woman. Anything went with B. She slowly fell under my word, and the traps laid themselves out without me even having to lift a finger.

​

When I was 17, B began a new habit of going to the gym.

In his work clothes.

I'm sure you could already see where this was going.

Mother swore to me that after my senior year she would be divorcing this bastardly, sorry excuse for a man. However, I influenced her to keep her eyes open and her peripheral vision even more open. This is how she found the odd charges on her bank statements to numerous bars and hotels for hundreds of dollars. She noticed one singular pattern in the paper bank statements that were sent to us every month (usually B would rip them up right in front of her and told her not to look at them, but this time she got her hands on a duplicate that had been sent to us on request). A hotel near where B worked, along with a bar that was located close to the hotel. He was too full of himself to take her to a hotel, even saying that he wouldn't want to waste a single week of his life in a cramped hotel room with his fat bitch of a wife.

Using the hotel's name, my mother looked it up and began her detective work. She called them one day whilst at work.

​

"Hi, is this (XXX) Hotel?"

-"Yes, how can I help you?"

"I just wanted to confirm my reservation, it's under '(B)'."

-"One moment, please! ... Alright, yes, you have reservations for the deluxe suite for June XX to June XXX. Anything else I can help you with?"

"Nothing at all, thank you!"

She was seething with pure, unadulterated rage. Turns out he was cheating on her with a husband and wife that he worked with.

She left work early to get me and Brother from our grandparents' house, and she told me everything in hushed tones so that Brother couldn't hear. I told her that I'd told her so, and that she did the right thing. That day, we packed up our shit and said good-bye to the haunted house that we'd lived in for so long. The perfectly manicured lawn and driveway, the white picket fence, and the beautiful shrubs were going to be a huge hit on the housing market.

He tried to hunt us down that day, but we hid out at a church that was far from the town that we had just resided in for 13 years of our lives. That summer, we lived with grandma and grandpa. That was the happiest and most free we'd all ever felt. Too bad J wasn't there to see it all, since we had been forced to put her down due to a severe heart murmur, but trucking her ashes around was enough for me.

That same year in October, we moved into a new house in the boondocks of my mother's old town and made it our own. B was left homeless, drinking himself to death because he had lost everything--his family, his wealth that poured in from my mother's significantly greater paycheck, the house, the luxury cars, the picture-perfect family that he kept on tight strings for far too long. He now resides with his second mistress, since none of his family or "friends" wanted to take his dog ass in. He lives in constant fear, too, because he knows what I did and he knows what he did. He knows that I can get him deported any day of the week, so he treads on egg shells and is as compliant with me as possible. I wish I could say the same with my mother, but I'm not afraid. I know where he lives, and since I've gotten back in contact with my father (he had been locked up for those 13 years due to evading child support and drug dealing), I've learned how to be the one with the leash. No more cowering in fear, thinking that one night he could go on a rampage and kill all of us. No more long nights of staying awake to make sure he didn't go into Brother's room to have his way with him. No more calling the police, manipulating, begging, and pleading with my mother to do the right thing. I have him on a short leash, and any day now I can turn out the real dogs on him: my own pent-up rage, and ICE.

​

Don't get me wrong, I actually quite hate my mother for more recent things she's been doing, however I'll give credit where it's due. I'm so proud of her for taking action after 13 years of being imprisoned by the man she was forced to call her husband.

​

TL;DR: Mom's ex husband controls myself, my mom, and my little brother for years. I gain some control, use it to convince my mom to look into his actions. She soon after leaves and divorces him, and she and I end up running his life back into the mud where it should've remained.

(source) story by (/u/CollegeAnon2022)

[booksbroadwaybbc]

Why the world needs you via /r/selfimprovement

Why the world needs you

"But I am just a nobody..."

How many times have you had those thoughts?

The thoughts that come in right after you have had an audacious goal, an incredible dream, or a world-changing idea that sounds almost too crazy and insane when uttered out loud...

How many times have you stopped yourself from going after what you want, because your fear and doubt tells you that you don't stand a chance?

As an extremely private person by nature, I never had much of an urge to share my stories or experiences.

And until very recently, I didn't think I was ever going to share this story publicly.

But in a world where people are becoming increasingly apathetic to suffering, I feel compelled to share my story, in the hopes that it will inspire you to find the hero within yourself.

I believe that every single one of us, should we choose to, can invoke a powerful spirit within us to transform our lives and help make the world a better place.

So here we go...

Over 4 years ago, while I was traveling in the Netherlands, I met a girl. She was 22 and I was 25.

She was unlike anyone else I had ever met. She had strange, peculiar interests in seemingly-polarizing things.

On one hand, she was deeply fascinated with the occult, she possessed objects like the skulls of animals, a model replica of a human skull, and many other odd symbols of darkness.

On the other hand, she had a strong love for symbols of innocence, such as collecting stuffed toys (rather seriously) and wearing onesies. The many books that she had indicated she loved art, and that she had a very acute visual sense.

She was very gentle and often displayed deep compassion for those who had been marginalized by society.

It soon became clear to me that despite being 3 years younger than me, this girl possessed a deep wisdom about life that I could not yet understand.

Even though she was quiet, reserved, and extremely guarded with her feelings, I was immediately captivated by her mysterious sense of self-expression...

She bluntly rejected me multiple times after I told her I was interested in her romantically.

She listed out all the practical reasons why she wouldn't date me. I was a foreigner (she didn't want any long-distance relationships), I was a regular pot smoker, and I was too much of a "cool guy" (as I would later find out, what she really meant was that I acted too much like a stereotypical douchebag).

It was quite painful the way she rejected me, but still, I wanted to continue seeing her.

So a platonic friendship ensued.

It wasn't long before I noticed the self-inflicted scars on the inside of her arms.

When I did, I held her arm out, ran my fingers over her scars and simply asked, "Why?"

She yanked her arm away and looked away quickly, sharply stating, "I was diagnosed with PTSD."

Sensing her reluctance to reveal anymore, I didn't probe any further.

We continued to meet. Our relationship progressed... We got closer.

One evening, after hours of talking, we slept together.

She continued noting her reluctance to be with me... But she never stopped meeting me.

Pretty soon, I was spending every single day with her in her tiny one bedroom apartment. I extended my stay in the Netherlands to 3 months and for the last 2 months, I stayed at her place.

One day, during a seemingly innocuous conversation, we started talking about the future...

As she started talking about her future, I noticed a deep anxiety setting in...

She started talking about the obstacles in her way and her anxiety started to get even worse. Tears started to form in her eyes as she curled into a ball and hugged herself.

Not knowing what to do, I tried to convince her that her fears were unfounded, but that did nothing.

The expression on her face started to turn into a look of sheer despair. Her eyes gazed past me into the distance as she started crying, her nails digging deep into the side of her arms. She had become so entrenched in a state of absolute fear that nothing I said or did would even get acknowledged.

Desperate to ease her pain but clueless on what to do, I hugged her close and held her tight, repeatedly whispering to her, "It's going to be okay..."

Never had I felt so utterly helpless in my life.

In what felt like years, minutes passed...

She starts getting calmer, and she eventually apologized for "freaking out".

I would later discover pieces of her dark history.

She was originally born in Poland. When she was 3, she was left under the care of her grandfather.

Instead of caring for her and protecting her like he had promised, he sexually abused her for months in secret. He told her that if she told anyone, they would think that it was her fault and hate her for it. Ashamed and afraid, her 3-year-old mind suppressed the memory... Her once bright and exciting world turned dark and frightening.

Her parents divorced several years later, and she was left to live with her father and her sister in Poland.

As her father struggles to cope with the stress of the divorce, he started losing control over himself in fits of rage and would viciously beat her sister. She recounted an incident where she became so afraid he was going to kill her sister that she stepped in to defend her sister during a beating. Fortunately, that act of courage snapped him out of his rage and made him stop. She was 10 at the time.

She eventually leaves with her sister to go live with her mother in the Netherlands.

As the small, strange, foreign and quiet girl who barely speaks the local language, she quickly became an easy target for bullying. School was a nightmare. They threw food at her, called her names, and played pranks on her on a daily basis.

One day, as she was walking home from school, two girls whom she never met pushed her down an escalator and started beating her up. When they eventually left, she picked herself up and went home.

But that incident had made her terrified of going out, and she fell into a state of deep depression. Eventually, she decided that she finally had enough... and attempted to kill herself by slitting her own wrist.

Her attempt failed and her mother admitted her into a mental hospital for rehabilitation.

She was 16. It was during this time in the mental ward where she finally experienced some reprieve. With the help of a psychologist, now 13 years later, memories of her childhood abuse resurfaced and she was finally able to start healing from that wound.

She was also diagnosed as a high-functioning autistic, which helped her understand why she behaved so differently from others. A year later, the mental hospital was forced to release her due to financial constraints.

Not wanting to return home, she got a small job in conjunction with a student loan and rented a tiny room in a shared apartment.

Shortly after, she befriended a man. He was sweet to her at first and they eventually started dating. He took advantage of her vulnerability and gained her trust. But slowly, as their relationship progressed, he became more and more abusive. What started off as emotional manipulation became full-on beatings. He put out cigarettes on her, violated her, and even threatened to stab her while holding a knife.

She would eventually break free from his manipulative grip, but not after suffering emotional and physical scars.

Upon learning of her difficult past, I experienced a powerful mix of grief, anger, and admiration...

As our relationship deepened, I wanted nothing more than to help her see a brighter future. If I could give her hope, that would mean more to me than anything else I had ever done in my life.

The first thing I did was move to the Netherlands to be with her. The process wasn't easy, but I managed to do it in 3 months. We have lived together ever since.

She had always wanted to visit Japan, Disneyland, and a whole bunch of other places, but never had the chance due to her financial circumstances.

At the time when I met her, I was a struggling digital marketer who had just dropped out of college in pursuit of the "internet lifestyle". My income fluctuated tremendously, some months I made a few thousand, some months I made nothing. It was nothing to brag about and definitely not enough to travel and live indiscriminately. So if you have ever been led to believe that particular endeavor is easy... Trust me, it is not.

But, the one thing that it does give you is the freedom and ability to decide just how far you want to take things.

And now I had a powerful reason beyond myself to do whatever is necessary to create a thriving business.

It took a little over a year before things started to take off...

We moved out of our crappy apartment, went to Disneyland in Paris, stayed in Japan for 1 month, and went out on many other adventures.

She had always been fascinated with Chow Chows (a rare dog breed) but she was afraid of dogs because of a biting incident when she was a child.

So together, we tracked the breed down... It took about 18 months and living in Poland for 1 month before we were finally able to get the puppy... But we eventually did and he's part of our little family now.

Slowly but surely, I witnessed how the powerful light of hope transformed her outlook on life... The bouts of despair occurred significantly less frequently... She had less anxiety and she started engaging her interests more actively...

Now, I definitely do not dare claim responsibility for any of that. She was the one who had to go through the fight. And I have not always been supportive... I have made many horrible mistakes, hurt her both intentionally and unintentionally... But having been able to take part in her healing process has meant more to me than anything else.

There's a lot more that I wanted to share, such as how my rage almost destroyed everything and how I met a true warrior who transformed my perspective, but I think this story has gone on for too long...

My point is this...

In a world of ever-increasing apathy, there has never been a time more critical than now that we look inwards upon ourselves to find powerful reasons to do what is right in this world... For there are far too many monsters out there who are looking to exploit the vulnerable.

One of my favorite quotes is from a man named Edmund Burke, who once famously stated, "All it takes for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing."

You may not be able to think of yourself as a hero in the grand sense. But everyone has the capacity to be the hero in their own story... For it is not only through a journey of service that we will create a better world, but its also where we will find meaning and transform ourselves into happier, stronger, and more fulfilled individuals.

Shift your focus to those who need you. Be willing to bear the burden of their suffering, so that you may look past your own insecurities in service of a greater good.

When I say the world needs you, I am being sincere and truthful. The world truly does need you.

Submitted October 14, 2018 at 08:58AM by th_danche via reddit https://ift.tt/2IVHcOA