Be Mine

Hello, I'm Kendell, and I have a surname that I'd rather be without. Why? Yeah. Let me tell you the drama here! So... I had the beautiful bad luck of the most universal universe in the universe, of being born of the most irresponsible parents in the world. Wait for me to explain this right here. I was born on the slum, coming from some w****s of some d**g addicts, the people who say that generated me, are of the last category of d**g addicts. Of those who spend about 5 minutes without taking drugs, kill themselves at the same time, can you understand? So, the misfortunes incompetent the way they are, generated me, and didn't even worry about me in a moment, and I grew up like this, literally alone and in obvious danger, being born on the slum is already terrible, imagine a newborn in the middle of two folded half bowl? Yeah, right! However, with the help of the older pyriguettes from here on the slum that arranged a basic way to help me, I managed to survive. And then there was my beautiful person! They left home, regardless of whether I had eaten, sick or some freaking of this from there, they would like and return from where they returned altered, little caring if there was a shootout on the slum and if I was alive in the middle of that whole mess. They make out in front of me caring little about my presence, beat themselves there like two animals and everything, in front of me. Handsome? I think so! I think, as I always lived in the midst of confusion I didn't have this trauma thing and all these basic things, but I can't lie that it was a little scary. But well, I never took to heart the fact that my parents were the freaking thing they were. I was worried about taking my shell out of that whole thing. It was then that with the help of the older pyriguettes, I started selling sweets to the kids from my heart from here from the hill, and then I studied until I finished school. Until then, I had already started working there at Dona Rosinha's cafeteria. What was it for me to do what? See if my person can get into dream college. Because, man, I fainted at the registration price, do you now imagine the monthly fee and price of the material I will use in just one year? I died in general when I saw it! And I'm there in the biggest battle to have a minimally decent life, and where the people who made me come into the world? Liking for hell and making out to the veil. I've already said I'm a mega fan of them? Imagine!!! Everything was fine and such, when on a beautiful day of bouncy unicorns and floating fairies, the idionds of the people who say they generated me arrived with a basic chat that now I belonged to the head chef of the slum. In other words, the bastards remembered the bond that unites us to sell me! Why?  Because the bastards had a f*****g debt, because of those things they used to make debts, since not a penny had and needed to pay somehow or died. Actually, I didn't care about them, I didn't care about them, after all, I never felt that basic affection for them. I wanted to resist being taken, I tried, but what strength do I have against dozens of henchmen and a boss who thinks he owns the world pointing weapons at each member of my body? Nothing, right? And it turned out that the little chef, out of the freak ended my virginity, in a painful, brutal and strangulant way. I wanted to have died. However, my vibrations are good, and I must value the life that God has given me, and change the freaking life I led. Don't even think I'd be a s****l slave to a disgusting person like Chris' damn. The bastard decided that for good, in his tiny head, that I belonged to him, he said that I was his. A crazy possessive. He was already creating a little novel costume on his pathetic head. Then, with the help of the pyrigues of my heart, they helped me escape from that huge captivity, which he called mansion. And I had to disappear from the hill for good, since, they were already looking for me and if I stayed there, it was really wanting to be caught, and you know what the i***t was going to do with me. Only me and my backpack that had few things, alone. And my legs, with empty pockets. It turned out that, I just focused on running away from that I ended up leaving in the city. City! I had never stepped on a floor like that, not even. Very high buildings, beautiful, clean people and don't dress a little like the people there on the slum, they seem to have left the 18h and 21h soap opera that I watched there at Mrs. Rosinha's cafeteria. All clean and beautiful, children don't even drip snot... and man, I haven't talked about the cars yet, it seems that they left from television, beautiful, without even a scratch. It seems that I died and raise again in the city of my dreams of rich. Wonderful city, this one from here! Well, I'd appreciate everything better if at least I hadn't been sleeping on the floor, on the stools and on the cardboard, with my whole body hurting, belly snoring, without a roof, without a job, without anything and on top of that with this lot of chilly people. The worst thing is that a week without eating, at least for me it's a suffocation, I can't take it anymore. And I still ran away from some evildoers the other time, who with some basic tricks I learned on the slum, I gave them. After all, there on the slum, if you don't have an open eye, you're r***d in any little drink out there, and I, as always, was alone, so you could capture, right? So I just hope to find something to do, otherwise I don't know what will become of me. • Be prepared for this story full of emotions!