Rejection Denied
Finally My Story

A/N Some of you have been wanting to know more about Aviry’s past. So here you go. The language is EXPLICIT. And Her tone is LOUD when it’s capitalized, she’s not shouting. I want you to know how she feels. I hope this helps with understanding her a little more.

“Are you finished?” Cay asked, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “It’s my turn to have fun on this date. “

He held his hand up, “Wait, not that I’m not having fun. I’m really enjoying myself. I just want to—”

“It’s fine, Cay.” I placed the peanut butter and jelly into the basket. “But before we go, it’s only fair that I share a part of me with you. And listen, no aww, Aviry this and that. Fuck that shit, I control my life, so zero pitty, ok, Cay.” He nodded and turned to look at me.

I huffed and laid back on the blanket. Where the fuck should I start…

Well, fuck, there’s not much to say about my birth years. According to my social worker, Hattie, I was abandoned as a baby. Someone found me in the woods and delivered me to the hospital. From there, I went to my first foster home. And according to the files that I stole from Hattie. That home holds the title for housing me the longest, coming in at two years and three months.

I don’t have any pictures from when I was a child. But my earliest memory is from when I was eight. My foster mother, Jane, was a DEVOUT Christian. She dressed me in white dresses and white shoes. And every single Sunday, we attended her church. The only music she allowed was gospel and the only book she read was the bible.

Whenever she punished me, I took ten hits of a ruler, she read a bible verse to me and sent up a prayer for me to be good. But little did she know, I was the demon that she should’ve prayed against.

I played a little prank on her, and it was funny as hell. After reading the verse on hell’s firey pits, I took a hair spray can and sprayed it at a lighter. I shouted, “HAIL, SATAN!” As she screamed. She sent me away after her prayer room caught fire, yelling and screaming about me being the devil’s child.

I shuffled between homes for the next five years. And when I turned thirteen, I got my boobs. That opened up another realm to this fucked up world. The horde of perverts in my foster homes and the lack of care from the system, made me realize that I had to rely on myself for protection.

So I kept my doors locked, and I slept with a knife under my pillow. Ready to defend my innocence, every single night. And when I tried to tell my “Guardians,” they brushed it off and told me I was overreacting. Can you imagine how fucked up that is at my age?

So let’s skip to my “rebel” years. At Sixteen years old, I was fighting for my life against a group of horny teens. I was sober that night, so how the hell did I end up drugged and nearly rapped? Here’s a hint, they did it.

I was able to come out of my daze, and when I did, I beat some ass. And guess who caught a case. BOOM! Aviry Mills did, aggravated assault times three. But here’s some “good” news. Their attorneys offered to drop the case if I apologized to their clients. And….

I told them to go fuck themselves purple.

So, I served four months in Juvie. I celebrated my 17th birthday behind bars. But my cellmate made me a prison cake: the one and only cake I’ve ever received. After Juvie, I had to spend two months on house arrest. This was hard to do since my foster family saw me as a criminal now and didn’t want to taint the younger children’s minds.

So I went to a group home. But, no one seemed to care about notifying the police of this change. So once again, I was back in court, trying to defend myself since my lawyer could care less.

“ONE MORE HOME MS. MILLS.” The judge shouted. “ Never in my life have I encountered such a disobedient, violent, reckless child.”

I wondered to myself. Is that how these people see me? Aren’t all teens a little disobedient? And I’m only violent when I need to protect myself. And I’m not a reckless child. I had to grow up a long time ago, and everything I do has a purpose.

But hell, why waste my breath? They’ll just brush me off as a delinquent any way! They’ll say I’m just young and dumb and push me further into misery. They’ll all shout, “Hey, she’s just another kid overacting to the system; her problems are imaginary!”

HA, SO FUCK IT! WHO THE FUCK CARES ABOUT AVIRY MILLS? THEY WANT TO SEE A MONSTER, THEN I’LL SHOW THEM THE DEVIL. THEY WANT TO SEE ME FAIL. BITCH, I’LL PERSEVERE IN LIFE. AND PROVE THAT THEY’RE THE FAILURES. I’LL SHOW EVERYONE WHO I AM, AND I DON’T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT HOW YOU SEE ME.

YES IM A TOTAL BITCH. BUT, MY LIFE STORY DOESN’T FEATURE RAINBOWS, AND GODDAMN UNICORNS EATING POPSICLES ON A SUNNY DAY WITH THEIR BESTIES. NO, MY LIFE DOESN’T MAKE THE CUT FOR CHILDREN STORIES. IT GET’S BURIED UNDER A HEAPING PILE OF SHIT, FERTILIZING THE GRASS THAT THE “PRIVILEGED” AND THE “GOOD” STEP ON!

FUCK! IT FEELS SO GOOD TO FINALLY BE ABLE TO SPEAK OUT LOUD. FINALLY, THAT’S MY STORY. IT’S A LITTLE SHITY BUT WIPE THE SHIT OFF AND UNDERSTAND ME.

THE REAL ME, AVIRY MILLS.

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