Her's abandoned

Third-person POV The three-year-old little girl sits in her room. She is cold, hungry, and thirsty, but most of all, she is scared. She is scared when her mother and stepfather come home. She is afraid they will remember that she is living in the dark attic room and will remember to bring her down. Her body is still hurting from last night. She does not know why they hurt her like this. She knows that she is shivering from cold and is too afraid to get into her bed and sleep. She knows she will not get food tonight and the tap in her tiny bathroom has been turned so tied that she can not open it to drink a bit of water. She lies underneath her bed on the hard cold floor, hoping not to hear the car come in. Tonight she is lucky as they do not come home, and old Mabel brings her a hot cup of soup and a piece of dry bread. She knows that is all Mabel can steal from the kitchen without her mother or stepdad realizing it. She eats it hungrily, and then Mabel helps her to the bathroom to quickly bath her sore body and put her some warmer clothes on so she can sleep warm tonight. The little girl has an older brother and sister, but they are the children of her mom and her stepdad. The little girl dreams of the day her birth father will come and save her. She was conceived when her mother and father broke up for some time, and when she returned with her mother, her stepdad hated her. Her mother does not care about her either. She does not know what a mother's hug feels like, and her grandparents called her the bastard. "Your parents will not come home for a week so you can heal, little one," Mabel says, and the little girl goes and lies on her bed. Her stomach is full, and she feels safe knowing they will not come home soon. She falls asleep, sucking her little thump. Jennifer's POV "Are you ready, Jen? The crowd is worked up and waiting for you," My assistant asks me. "I am ready," I say. I don't talk much, and I don't make friends. I do not trust people. In real life, I am shy. On stage, I am Jennifer Preston, the Rock Star, and everyone loves me. In real life, I am still that three-year-old girl afraid that her parents, who are famous because her stepdad is a drummer in a favorite band and her mother's father is the King of Country, will come home. I don't care about them anymore as they do not know who I am anymore. I ran away from home when I was nine. They did not even look for me or report me missing. I walk to the stage. I never show emotion, and I never cry. I promised myself that day I ran from home I would never cry again. I only trust one person, and that person is the only person on earth that knows the real me. That knows my story. Mabel. She ran away with me but could not look after me, so I ended up in an orphanage, and Mabel got work there to be close to me. Mabel is old now and stays with her children in a house I bought them. I will still visit her when I get the chance. I walk out on stage, and I wear my signature armband. It covers the whole of my left arm. There is a reason I wear it as I have an ugly scar on my left arm. It reaches from my pulse to above my elbow. The last scar my stepdad gave me. The people start screaming my name. Well, my stage name as I never use my real name. It is also the name I gave the people at the orphanage as I did not want to reveal my real name. I liked that little girl to be forgotten. I am not her anymore. I will never be her again. I start singing, and the crowd sings every word of my new hit single with me. They see me as a rebel as I never mix with Hollywood, and I never talk to journalists. Nobody knows where I came from or who I really am. That makes me mysterious and unique, the people in the industry say. I also did not sign with a big-name record company. I signed with a small company, and that is the way I like it. I have been singing since I was sixteen in bars and clubs, and that is where the small company got a hold of me. I made them rich and myself, but my main goal is to become a doctor, studying in my free time. After the concert is over, I go to the limo that is waiting to take me home. I am tired, but I am also afraid to sleep because of the nightmares and the hurt. As I get home, I go upstairs to take a hot shower. I do not shower or get dressed in public places because of the scars on my body. I dance with my backup dancers, and therefore, I am very sweaty after a show, but I always drive straight home or to my hotel where I stay. Tonight my show was in my hometown, so I came home. I stand under the warm shower. I am lonely, but I have my dogs, and I love them as my children. I will never love and never open myself to get hurt again. It has been twelve years since I ran away from home. That night he wanted to kill me. I could see it in his eyes: my stepdad, Norman Steward. I hate him, and I hate my mom Lola Steward. My grandfather is Lionel Morgan, the King of Country music. Yeah, I know who my family is, but they do not know who I am. I smile as I look at my ice blue eyes in the mirror. I have my birth father's eyes. I know he is Steven Martin. I know everything about all of them. They were all addicted to something in their lives. I don' care. I was not meant to be loved, and I know it. Mabel says it is bullshit, and one day, the right person will come my way, and I will fall head over heels in love, and he will treat me like the princess I am. I just laugh at her. I do not believe in love or that humans are good. I do my fair share of charity. For example, I give money to orphanages and the homeless. I do not go out much as I do not have friends. I have Mable and her family. I clean and cook for myself as I do not want others to be in my house. My house is the one place where I can stay out of the public's eye and away from reporters who always want to ask me questions I do not want to answer. After the shower, I go down the stairs and to my music room. This is where I write my music. I never sing covers of other people's songs as I am an artist and not a karaoke singer. My dogs lie on the ground near me. Their food bowls are full, and I get busy with my work. I work until I fall asleep on the piano in front of me. "The little girl wakes up as she gets dragged downstairs by her hair. She cries in pain, but the drunk stumbling man does not care. Instead, he is angry and needs to take his anger out on someone. That someone is the child that reminds him of the pain his wife cost him when she cheated and fell pregnant with the man he thought was his friend. The little girl cries as she knows what is coming. She is five by now, and when she lands at the bottom of the stairs, the man pulls her up by her hair and drags her to the sitting room. She stands in the middle of the sitting room, waiting for him to tell her what to do. At last, he tells her to get him a beer in the fridge, and she runs as fast as she can to get a can of beer. As she hands it to him, he hits her in the face. "What took you so long?" He asks. "I ran as fast as I could, uncle," She says. He takes the cigarette and puts it out on her back as she tries to get up. She screams in pain, and he kicks her. "Shut up! Do you want the whole neighborhood to hear you?" He asks. She tries to cry softer as she is afraid he might kick or slap her again. She is so scared she feels herself wet her pants. Then, as he sees it, he takes off his belt and starts hitting her. She rolls herself in a little ball as the blows rains down on her tiny body. " I wake up screaming and in a cold sweat. I wouldn't say I like it when I get these nightmares. My dogs lie close to me, and one licks my hand as he wants to reassure me that I am okay. I get up and go to the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee. I do not like to sleep. I know what happens when I sleep. I get nightmares, and I hate it. I remember that I forgot to eat again today. I did not have time for breakfast as I was running late for my martial art class. It is a private class as I can not stand people around me, but I have mentioned that before. I make myself a sandwich and sit in front of my piano again. I started working again, and I forgot about the bad dream I had. I always live in the dark. I stay up all night, and after my martial art class in the mornings, I come home and sleep. I do not have trouble sleeping in the day as much. Sometimes I do not get time to sleep in the day when I have to fly to another city for a concert. Sometimes I do world tours, or I have to study for tests. I have a busy schedule, and I go to medical school classes when I can.  I finished school at the age of sixteen as I was clever and skipped classes. Well, with medical school, it is almost the same. I learn fast, and although I am not always in the classes, I always pass my tests and exams. My professors know who I am, and when I go to school, I am allowed to sit in a private room and watch the class. I do my practicals also in that class with the professor. It is almost dawn. Today I do not have classes in martial art. It is Sunday, and I can relax. I make sure that my dogs' bowls are filled with water and enough food. Then, I walk up the stairs. Maybe I can get a few hours of sleep and then cook myself something to eat. This is my life. This is how I am. I am a loner. I am not depressed, just skeptical about humans and the way they treat others. Maybe it is me. Perhaps it is my past. I do not know, but I know one thing I have this terrible habit. When someone says something hurtful to me or hurts me, I touch the scar on my arm to remind me that humans are cruel. I walk into my dark attic room, where I sleep. I am used to sleeping in the attic. I am the shadow child, after all.