AMARA WARNER.

"I've repeatedly told him to quit, but he never listens. He refuses to listen and it makes me lose my literal mind," I complained to my siblings, pacing back and forth in my room.

"Yeah, we can tell," Jenna, the youngest, mocked, but when she saw my serious expression she quieted down.

"What's happening between him and that girl, anyway?" I asked them, but they just shrugged. "Why is she so interesting? Does she have sweet-flavored nipples or something?" Jenna and Xander grimaced and pretended to gag. I rolled my eyes. "Oh, grow up."

Xander cleared his throat. "I'm eleven..."

"And I'm nine."

I raised my eyebrow at them, confused. "Okay... and I'm twenty—what's your point?"

"Our point is that you don't talk about nipples with eleven and nine year olds, Amara!" Jenna exclaimed, gesturing dramatically. She had always been the most animated and expressive out of the four of us. "That's, like, basic knowledge."

Right, 'cause we're so normal, huh.

But instead I said, "Let me complain some more, will you?"

"I'm bored." Xander whined.

"I'm hungry."

I sighed. "I'll let you stay up one more hour if you let me talk."

My sister suddenly interrupted me, jumping into my arms. "Thank you! Thank you!" Her eyes shimmered with a sudden light. "We'll listen to you calmly now, right Xan'?"

He nodded, but I noticed concern on his angelic face.

The kids had to follow many rules, and one of them was to go to sleep at 8:30. Every night. Without any delay. Jenna and Xander weren't too fond of the rule, but they had no other choice but to follow it because Father insisted, even when he wasn't home with us. If they disobeyed, the soldiers would report it to our father.

Paris Anderson was informed of everything we did. Down to a T. From what we ate, what we drank, what clothes we put on, who we talked to, to even the conversations we had. The smallest mistake, and we were done for.

There was no forgiveness or leniency.

A while ago, I had the terrible idea (just like now) to allow my brothers and sister to play outside, in our former garden, for half an hour. Of course, some soldiers informed Paris Anderson about it. Things didn't turn out well for me, in the end...

I allowed my siblings to rebel against the rules and stay up past their bedtime because I needed to vent about how completely stupid our brother was. Mentally, I was already bracing myself for the inevitable consequences if our father discovered what was going on.

My siblings and I hadn't been treated kindly by anyone in our family, or just anyone for that matter. There were very few days where I was actually happy and not faking it. I tried. I tried so hard for my siblings, but it was getting harder to find something to be happy about in my life. Father being present on base or not didn't matter because either way I wasn't happy.

My life was miserable.

Aaron and I had grown accustomed to our shitty lives. We had decades of abuse on our backs, and minds, but not our younger siblings. Jenna and Xander, still so young, deserved a life far better than ours.

Talking about my brother, I was still venting all my frustrations to the kids, recounting how I repeatedly warned him about Father's peculiar obsession with Juliette Ferrars. But, he decided to ignore my warnings.

Stupid, stupid boy.

At one o'clock, the door to my room creaked open, sending a shiver down my spine. I felt my siblings rush past, gripping my hands tightly, seeking comfort in our shared fear. Though I suspected it was Aaron, there was a lingering dread that it might be Father returning unexpectedly. Despite my apprehension, I stood tall, placing my hands protectively on my siblings' shoulders, determined to shield them with whatever strength I could muster.

Aaron Warner, his imposing figure filling the room, strode in, immediately calming all three of us. But I didn't back down. No, I crossed my arms, shooting him a glare, expecting the kids to mirror my defiance. Yet, to my surprise, they betrayed me. They rushed to him, hugging him as if he had returned from a long voyage, even though he had only been gone for three hours.

Aaron stooped down, hugging them with a contented smile.

Traitors, all of them.

"Aaron!" Jenna exclaimed as she jumped into his arms. "I almost succumbed to death without you."

"Dramatic much?" I murmured quietly, but my brother seemed to have heard me because he sent me an amused look.

Aaron chuckled and ran his hands through her blonde hair. "Did you now?"

"Yes!" She nodded excitedly. "Death, cough Amara cough, almost got to me but you arrived in time and saved me."

"Jenna, keep talking and I'll lock you up somewhere with no food, no water, no mirror and no lipstick." I threatened, with a playful edge to my tone.

She gasped and pointed at me. "See?! Death wants me!"

"Jenna, I swear to—"

"Xander, buddy," he said, moving away from Jenna and me to approach Xander, who sat quietly on the bed, a small smile playing on his lips. "Hey, I missed you."

"You did?" His eyes lit up with genuine surprise and delight.

"Of course I did. How could I not?" He kissed Xander's cheek, then ruffled his hair. "Did the girls treat you well?"

Did he think we were some sort of annoying teenage girl, or what?

Xander shook his head. "They treated me well, as always. Jen played with me, so that was fun."

"Are you sure? They weren't a bother or agitated?"

Jenna threw one of her dolls at his face. "We can hear you, idiot!"

Aaron dodged the throw with an ease that almost amazed me. "That's precisely my point." He focused his attention back on our brother. "I wanted you to come with me today but I was afraid it might be dangerous for you."

Xander blushed. "I would have been happy to be with you."

I didn't have to be my brother to know, or see, that his heart melted at our brother's words. Aaron's gaze softened as he gently touched Xander's cheek before redirecting his attention to us. The tenderness in his eyes swiftly dissipated, replaced by amusement.

He took off his black jacket and put it on my bed.

"You look like a fucking psychopath," I remarked, my voice tinged with a touch of disdain.

He smirked in response. "Well, thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment, asshole."

"Wasn't it?" He moved closer to my sister and me, taking a seat on the floor, his gaze fixed solely on me. "Why the hostility?"

Despite the urge to stand up and walk away from him, to make him truly think about his actions, I clenched my fists and forced myself to remain seated, locking eyes with him in silence.

"You haven't uttered a word to me throughout the entire day."

To an outsider, my brother's words might have seemed like a simple observation, but I could hear the undertone of hurt in his voice. He had noticed my distant attitude, and I imagined it lingered with him while he was gone. Yet, I pushed aside my guilt and remained neutral.

"Are you going to continue your petty behavior?"

"I don't know, Aaron, am I?" I finally caved in. "Whose fault is that?"

He studied me intently before replying, "I wouldn't know considering you're not sharing anything with me."

"Are you genuinely unable to know why I might be upset with you today?" His silence spoke volumes, indicating his obliviousness.

"Have you been drinking?" he inquired, causing my eyes to widen in disbelief.

"Why would you think that?" I attempted to mask my hurt beneath a furrowed brow.

"Because you're behaving irrationally," he responded matter-of-factly.

I raked my fingers through my hair, attempting to rein in any impulse to act impulsively. "Being angry is not an irrational behavior, Aaron."

"Perhaps not for most people. But for you, it is."

The kids appeared to sense the tension in the room and retreated, likely to their bedroom. Right now, I was unable to focus on them. I had a sibling to confront, and he happened to be the oldest among them.

When they closed the door, I finally erupted.

"You screwed up, Aaron. Big time."

"I can tell by how you're acting," he pointed out and it somehow angered me more. "But I can't tell why. I wasn't even present today to provoke you."

"It's your absence that provoked me," I confessed, my voice full of emotion.

His brow furrowed in confusion. "Are you upset because I visited Juliette Ferrars?"

I shook my head, my frustration boiling over. "It's not about her—"

"Then what is it about?"

"Your sick relationship with Father," my words laced with a venom I didn't possess. "That's what it's about. Your constant need to do what he asks, even when I try to warn you about it."

The room falls into an eerie silence, so profound that a pin dropping would've sounded deafening. I meet his gaze, his expression shifting into a mask of hardened resolve. My words clearly struck a nerve, but they were never nothing short of the truth.

If we need to argue, which I despise doing, then so be it.

It's time for him to open his eyes about his change of behavior whenever Father is mentioned, or simply around.

Aaron stands up, smoothing out the wrinkles in his attire before crossing over to my bed to retrieve his jacket. With a nonchalant tone, he remarks, "I'm not sure what you're referring to, Amara."

"You know exactly what this is about, Aaron. Let's not play dumb here," I said, frustration lacing my words as I confronted my brother.

"Don't mistake me for you," his words pierce through. "I'm not the one with a twisted relationship with Father here. I am simply executing what he asked of me, as always. Now, if you'll excuse me—"

But I couldn't let him walk away. I stood my ground, positioning myself firmly in front of my bedroom door.

"Amara."

"I'm tired of watching you play Father's lap dog. It hurts me," I confessed, my voice cracking with emotion.

"There's nothing to be hurt about. I don't have any kind of relationship with Father. Don't worry, I'm not you," he replied coldly, his words like icicles in the air.

His attempt to wound me fell short, though. I knew his tactics well, for I had mastered them myself. Words were our weapons, our shields against the pain.

"Exactly. Don't be me. Be better," I implore him with my eyes, hoping he'll comprehend my plea. I wanted him to grasp the gravity of his actions, to realize the path he was treading led only to darkness.

I had walked that path before, seeking love from a father who could never give it. Each effort, each sacrifice, only deepened the despair within me. And now, I watched my brother follow in my footsteps, blind to the trap he was caught in.

But I couldn't bear to see him suffer as I had. I couldn't bear to watch him drown in a sea of disappointment and resentment.

"I am better," Aaron's response was firm, resolute, as he gently pushed past me, heading towards the door.

I stood there, defeated, as his figure disappeared.

'How pitiful you are, girl,' my father's mocking voice echoed in my mind, a cruel reminder of the pain that haunted me still.

I shook my head vehemently, a desperate attempt to fend off those relentless thoughts—that voice that clawed at my sanity. With a deep, shuddering sigh, I stumbled toward the small refrigerator tucked away in the corner, its cold presence a stark reminder of my solitude. Inside, stood the only solace I could find: vodka.

'You're nothing but a disappointment,' his voice continued its assault, echoing in my mind. I clenched my teeth, fighting against his cruel words, but they seared into my consciousness like branding irons on flesh.

I hesitated only for a moment thinking about my responsibilities, about my younger siblings, before seizing it. I needed my mind to shut up. The sharp scent of alcohol filled the air as I lifted the bottle to my lips, allowing the fiery liquid to wash away the bitterness that clung to my soul. A third of the bottle disappeared in a single swallow.

'I regret having you, fucking useless girl! Just like your mother.'

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

I downed another gulp of vodka, desperate to drown out the poisonous whispers that haunted me. The burn of alcohol was a welcome distraction.

With unsteady steps, I made my way to my bed, seeking refuge in the darkness that enveloped me, if only for a moment because in darkness there was no judgment, no condemnation—just nothingness.

WHAT I WANT TO SAY !

🎀

hello. i'm back and this time i'll try my best to update as much as possible. but i've got a couple of things to say and it's pretty important so just bare with me.

as much as this is a shatter me fanfic, there is also my own twist to it which means that i'll stick to the main plot but i've changed multiple things because i thought it would fit better.

the first act will be taking place for four to five months unlike a couple of weeks like in the books.

this book contains strong topics like domestic abuse, addiction, death, and so on. if you are comfortable with those then don't read. i am not responsible for what you read so don't come at me.

amara is a complex character. she is not easy to understand and will make dumb assumptions decisions but she's just a girl 🎀

and i've decided to rewrite the book because i fucking hated the writing like why did no one tell me how horrible it was???

anyway.

hope you enjoyed this first chapter.
no kenji. aaron asshole. depressed fmc. cute siblings. yea this will serve cunt.

written. 2nd february, 2022
posted. 5th june, 2022
rewrite. 24th april, 2024