Disclaimer: I own this story. It is mine. If I find it anywhere else posing as someone else's, I will SUE. Got it? Good :) Also, I may have some name brand items listed in my story, I don't own those. But I'll still sue. Enjoy ^_^

Summary: I have the beauty. I have the body. I have the money. Yes, my life seems pretty ideal. You know, the type every else envies? But to envy my life means you haven't lived yet. The way I see it, you start living by making mistakes. But if that's the case at all, I've been living for a while and because of it, I'm counting down the days to my death. I'm confused right now. I have no idea who I am. I won't truly understand myself and my purpose until my death. That's something worth looking forward to, right? I've always wanted to meet the real me. Get to know me, hang with me, learn to love me. But until then, all I know is I'm Brielle Cordaroy. And here's my story.

Chapter 1:

I didn't know what was more irritating. The sour sound of his voice harmonizing an unfamiliar tone or the screeching sound of piano keys piercing holes into my ear drums. Both of which sounded so sweet to me, once upon a time and caused a tingling sensation throughout my body at one point in my life. Just looking at him, alone, made me sick. The same sickness I felt when I found out I was pregnant. And the same sickness I felt when I terminated the baby. Because of him. He convinced me. And I was too weak to make my own decisions. I've resented him ever since.

"Do you mind?" I spoke in the nastiest tone my voice was able to find. So he could soak in my frustration with him and possibly become frustrated with me, too.

"Look, this is how we make our money. So yes, I do mind. If you wanna watch TV, go upstairs."

Our money? He had to be joking. I never touched the money, let alone looked at it. He was selfish in that kind of way. Promised me the world, then locked it up into a safe that only he and his best friend knew the combination of. The only proof I would have to show that he attempted to give me the world was the rock on my left ring finger. It symbolized his commitment to me. His love and admiration for me. His willingness to spend the rest of his life with me. I used to hold this ring to the sun, proudly, hoping to stir jealousy into the souls of older women who waited for that same rock all their lives and girls my age who's dream is to one day own a rock as big as mine. But that's just what I used to do. Now I hide my ring in embarrassment, hoping not to receive questions from curious minds about my engagement. Them asking me if I'm in love and me having to tell them no.

I reluctantly went upstairs only because I had an idea that would put my mind at ease. I could feel his gaze on me as he watched me pass his way, not even bothering to make so much as eye contact with him. I could care less if he wanted that moment of connection and emotional affection. I just wanted to escape the living room which would soon be filled with deadly hostility. I was halfway up the stairs before he continued with his annoying music. It drove me crazy. But that's the punishment I receive for dating a guy my parents disapproved of. For having sex before marriage, moving out at 16, dropping out of high school, aborting the only child I may be physically able to have and becoming engaged to a control freak of a musician. All at 17 years old.