MOST YOUNG GIRL'S mind's nowadays were occupied with various different things that were around them in their lives. Most would assume that they'd be thinking about things like their beloved family, their friends, their toys, maybe even their favorite tv-show too. All normal things, right?

Well, in Rosalyn Fairchild's case, she was peculiar from that normality, as she spent a majority of her whole childhood wondering if she was meant to be abused for the rest of it.

A part of her knew she wasn't, but convincing herself otherwise became more difficult with every day that passed by. Times occurred when she felt like giving up, though in her naïve little mind, she didn't even know what they would look like.

Other times, she'd wish to God, or to any higher beings that existed in her world, to take her away from her parents; her ghastly mother and father whom she couldn't bring herself to call parents at this point.

The girl might've only been nine-years-old, but she already understood then that parents weren't supposed to leave you sleeping in dried tears every night. They weren't supposed to remind you on the daily that you ruin their lives by just breathing. They weren't supposed to do any of that at all.

She knew what a true parent was supposed to be for a child, and they certainly didn't fit the criteria.

Then again, their abuse was all she ever really knew when it came down to it. Yes, she yearned to escape them and their absurdity, but she was also apprehensive about what the aftermath would be. Thinking that this wasn't the worst state that her life would be in. That perhaps life will take a more awful turn if she tried to take a chance to change it.

All Rosalyn Fairchild really knew that was definite, was that she was just really, really tired.

She was eight-years-old now, and today seemed like any other weekday. Boring, tiring, and utterly draining. She was laying in the middle of the small backyard her house had. Mindlessly in her own thoughts, gazing at the night skies above her.

Some would say that looking at the sky during this time of day was therapeutic. While for Rose, she would've said the complete opposite, saying that it was actually quite boring, and a little stupid.

But as if the universe could sense Rose's boredom, a shooting star suddenly flew across the sky, driving her mouth to shape into the letter "O" in a small fascination.

She heard of the idea of wishing on a shooting star from Tara: a new friend she's made since moving from Georgia to Maryland only two months ago.

Apparently, she liked to go outside in her backyard at night just to look at the stars, like Rose was right now. She said her mother saw one right before she gave birth to her, which was a core reason as to why she was named Tara; because it means Star.

So naturally, she grew this natural curiosity about it growing up. Tara even told her that she'd scavenge the sky some nights for a shooting star, hoping to witness one and make a wish of a lifetime with it.

Meanwhile to Rose, she was utterly incredulous to this at first. She had already lost all faith in wishes by then, but she thought, "What harm could a simple wish on a star do?"

It probably wouldn't come true, anyway.

So with a soft exhale of a breath, Rose drew her eyes to a close, wishing to universe itself, "I wish that something—or someone can just take me away from them... from my parents....or I just wish that I could be happy. Like really, really happy for once."

And when Rose's eyes opened, the sky went back to looking the same before the shooting star appeared. Not much to her surprise.

She sighed again, cringing at the thought of her wish.

Rose despised having any sort of hope at all, even if it was the only thing tugging her to live. Hope was useless in her mind. Because what's the point of having hope when the world spent her entire life giving her reasons not to have any, right?

The brunette girl would soon be yanked out of her thoughts when the back door abruptly opened to a vehement-looking Elena Fray coming outside.

"Hurry up and stop dreaming in that damn backyard, you brat," Elena barked, her voice reeking of bitterness as she later went back inside, roughly slamming the wooden door shut.

This left Rose with a wave of tears pooling her eyes. Probably for the third time that entire day. Which was how much times she'd usually cry every day, actually.

And even now, she's still evermore haunted by it all. The yellings, the beatings, all of it still lingers in her being. Like a scar that isn't physically visible, only something you can see in one's soul.

But little did she know, some wishes actually do come true, and that even just having a little bit of faith, can change one's world by a whole—lot.

devil's talking!

love starting this story on a sad ass prologue 😝

my girl already deserves the world and she WILL get it (hopefully 🙃) lool

also can we just take a moment to admire my growth in writing since WDYLY, like it's improved SO much and im genuinely very happy about that

like comparing this prologue to WDYLY's, this is astronomically better ngl

but anyways, thank you sm for reading, ily all byeee <333