Overcoming My Limits

At only the age of 11, Blythe Mitchell had been caught up in a terrible situation. One her family recalls as "The Accident." Her right leg was considered paralyzed and all the nerves had died, but Blythe had hope. One doctor she had consulted told her that in several years, she may just walk again.
Now, at the age of 17, Blythe is still wheelchair bound and even more curious about her "accident." It seems as if everyone but her knows what happened those many years ago. Her seemingly over-protective mother keeps silent and no one, not even her loyal maid, Macy Matthews, will tell her a thing. Which lead to another mystery. Why did the Matthews' go bankrupt after her accident? Did it have anything to do with her family?

Questions keep appearing. Can Blythe find the answers? Will she find her past, or will she finally understand the danger she's in?

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9. "before you start a war, know what you're fighting for" -the cab

“Quit moving you little brat!” A harsh male voice demanded.

“No! I don’t wanna leave Brandon!” I squealed.

“Well too bad. Now shut up!”

“No! I’m not going to leave him here with you creeps!” I shout.

“Shut her up.” An even deeper voice said.

“Stop! Don’t hurt her anymore, she’s just a little girl!” a boy yelled at him.

“Just one last time.” He growled.

I gasped, waking up. I ran my fingers through my hair; I was getting really sick of all these nightmares. But one thing in particular nagged at my brain, “She’s just a little girl!” I tried piecing things together in my mind. I was supposedly leaving Brandon, and if I didn’t they’d hurt me. Wait, had they already hurt me? Questions swam through my mind, giving me a migraine. This was just so confusing. Did this nightmare have anything to do with the others? If they did correspond somehow, they most certainly weren’t going in any particular order.

“Macy,” I called, but she didn’t come.

“Macy?” I tried again. Well this is unusual. I scoot to the edge of my bed, but my wheelchair was across the room; someone had moved it there on purpose. I squinted my eyes, observing the darkened room. I also listened hard but heard nothing. Checking the clock, it read 4:35am. If I hadn’t been scared before, I was now panicking. For starters, it was pretty much pitch-dark; I’m terrified of darkness. Secondly, it was way too quiet. This is a big house, things echo. Not to mention, where was Macy? She was always here when I woke up, no matter the time. Has something happened to her? I glanced back again at my far away chair. I was going to have to get it myself…shit. I stood yesterday, I could surely do it again if I put my mind to it. I took a deep breath. Stand in one, two, three…

I opened my eyes on at a time. Realizing I was standing, I looked down at my legs. The left looked relatively normal, the right other hand looked shaky and unstable, but I was going to test my boundaries. Step one….two….shuffle a bit…….halfway there. As I gripped the arms of my wheelchair, I completely crashed into it. Sitting upright, I tried flexing my right leg, but it had given it’s all; it was finished. 

I opened my heavy bedroom door. Looking out into the hallway, all the lights were still dim. I was getting frightened; this house was always so up-and-moving. I quietly wheeled over past the stairs. To my relief, there was a sliver of light peeking through my father’s office door. I was about to push it open, when a certain voice made me freeze.

“You know, Richard, I’m starting to think I need a bit more money.”

“What? We’ve been giving you the same balance for about six years, that was our deal.”

I put my eye to the crack of the door, peeking in to see what exactly was going on. A tall man had his back turned to me.

“Things change. Actually, my perspective has changed. Oh, look. Is this a picture of your daughter, Richard? How old is she now, seventeen?” he ran his hand over the silver frame. My father lay the picture face-down, keeping the man from looking any further.

“She’s older, and very strong-willed.”

“I’m sure she’s a lovely woman. Wouldn’t be nice if we could be reacquainted?” Reacquainted? I’m fairly sure I haven’t met this man in my entire life. Then again, there was something oddly familiar about his voice. Something that put me on edge.

“No. Never again. Who knows what ungodly things your men would do to her.” My father replied. My eyes widened.

“I think I have a pretty good idea.” The other man said sarcastically. I shuddered in horror. His words made my skin crawl in disgust. Not to mention, he looked like a filthy man; not the “dirty” kind of filthy, but the “dirty” kind of filthy. If you know what I mean…

“You are a terrible man. She shouldn’t have been a part of this.” My father sighed.

“Ha, stupid man. You think just because you have money, it’ll protect you? This is a fend for yourself world we live in. You have to learn how to hold your own, and considering you daughter is still in a wheelchair,” he picked up the picture my father had previously put down, “I don’t think she’ll be able to so much of that.”

Anger boiled inside of me, but he did have a point. I’ve just recently begun to stand, and that’s only for several seconds. There is no way I could possibly protect myself from any one. Not even my raging mother.

Once again, a hand slipped over my mouth, shushing me. But when those soft curls tickled my cheek, I knew I had nothing to worry about. That is, until Brandon harshly picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. I was speechless with his actions. Usually he was so gentle and considerate, but not today. He carried me to my room and shut the door. Then he (literally) dropped me onto my bed.

“Uhm, ouch?” I said sarcastically as he paced back and forth in front of me.

“What do you think you were doing out there?”

“I’m not sure, hence the reason I was just sitting in the hall.”

“You shouldn’t have heard any of that.” He spoke a bit more to himself as he ran a hand through his curls.

“I still don’t know what ‘that’ was.” I crossed my arms.

“Good, because it’s none of your business.” He spat. I was taken aback by this. Why was he being so rude? Less than ten hours ago, he was wanting me, and now it seems as if he can’t even stand to be around me.

“I don’t understand. If it’s none of my business, then why am I involved? Why were they talking about me?”

“They were talking about…you?” he asked confused.

I nodded. “They were mentioning some God-awful things, too. Though, I’m not quite sure what all of this has to do with—“ I was cut off by a hug from Brandon, “Me.”

“Promise me you won’t go back out there until,” he glanced at the clock, “at least ten.”

“What? Why?” Like I said before, promises were not my thing.

“Please, Blythe. Just stay here.” He pleaded.

“All by myself, alone, in the dark, for the next seven hours?”

“Can’t you just go back to sleep?”

“Not by myself, alone in the dark,” I grabbed his hand as he got up, “would…”

“Would I what?”

“Never mind,” I dropped his hand, “it was nothing.”

He sat back on the bed. “It obviously wasn’t ‘nothing’ if you already started. So you might as well tell me.”

“Well, uhm….I…I don’t……how…” I stuttered for an answer. He came closer to my spot on the bed, making me lean back and lay down. He leaned over me, our bodies not even a foot apart.

“C’mon Blythe,” he cooed, drawing out the ‘y,’ “you know you want to tell me.” He lowered his head just above mine. Our lips were so close. Every time they almost touched, he withdrew. He wanted to tease me, and I was all for it.

“No, it’s not important.” I tried keeping my voice level.

“It is to me.” He whined.

“Seriously, it was nothing.”

“I will get it out of you one way,” he dipped his head into my neck, leaving little soft kisses, “or another.”

“Go ahead. You won’t get anything out of me.”

“We’ll see…” he smirked.

He left kisses from my jawline, down my neck, and over my collar bones. He put a hand on my thigh just below my bed shorts. My breathing got slightly heavier, but I wasn’t about to let him stop. He moved his hand up my leg. I took in a sharp breath.

“Something you wanna say?” he smirked.

“Yeah,” I looked at the ceiling, “you have really cold hands.”

He laughed before moving farther up my leg. He kissed down my stomach and traced the waistband of my shorts before tugging them down just enough to reveal my pink undies.

“Are these lace?” he sounded surprised.

“Are they?” I sat up, surprising him by helping him with my shorts, “I hadn’t even noticed.”

He just stared at me blankly.

“What? Aren’t you going to help me with my shirt?”

He pulled my shirt off in one swift movement. It made me wonder how many times he’s done this. Judging by how sexually attractive he is, I had a feeling his virginity was far past gone. He played with the elastic of my panties as his other hand’s fingers trailed up my back, giving me goosebumps.

“Awe, a matching bra. I like it.” He ran his fingers over one of the shoulder straps. It lingered there, and I could tell he was debating on whether or not to continue. I put my hand on his and pulled the strap down slowly. His touch was soft on my shoulder.

“No,” he shook his head, “it wasn’t supposed to go this far.”

“But it has,” I moved his hand to the bra buckle on my back, “and it can go a bit further if you want.”

He swallowed hard, letting his fingers feel around the buckle. But in the end, he just pulled up the previously fallen strap. I was now very confused.

“Is something wrong?” I asked, scooting closer to him.

“No.”

“D-did I do something…wrong?” I was choking back tears. I suddenly felt very stupid. I had practically just thrown myself at him, and he rejected me. I don’t know one other situation that could’ve been more awkward. I’m a virgin, no wonder I was making mistakes. I couldn’t hold back one tiny whimper.

“No, no, no, Blythe please, don’t cry.” He held my hands in his.

“I feel like such a, a…skank.”

“Babe, no. Don’t ever think of yourself that way. You’re not like those women.” He held my chin, looking me in the eyes.

“How? I’m half-naked and I basically just threw myself at you and you shot me down. And I mean it’s obvious that I’m not the prettiest girl and I don’t blame you for not wanting me but—“ Brandon cut me off with a deep kiss. He held my face in his hands as he did so. Reluctantly, and I mean very reluctantly, we parted. He looked into my eyes, rubbing my cheek with his thumb.

“Blythe, don’t think I don’t want you, because that’s definitely not the case.”

“Then what is? I don’t understand.”

He sighed.

“Blythe, I want you to wait.”

“Conniving bastard.” I whispered. He laughed, taking no insult.

“I know right now it seems hard—“

“No kidding…” I mumbled, averting my eyes.

“But it’ll be worth it.” He made me look at him. “Trust me.” He hugged me tightly.

“But wait,” I pushed him away, “how can I be so close to you and not kiss you?”

“I never said you couldn’t kiss me.” He smirked, pecking me on the lips.

“Damn you.” I fingered his curls.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and lay me down, him laying to my left. We just gazed at each other in the enveloped darkness, which consisted of playing with each other’s hair or him giving me light kisses every now and again.

“Brandon?”

“Yeah?”

“What I was going to ask earlier was, would you stay here with me? I don’t like the dark.” I explained to him.

“You mean you don’t like being alone in the dark.” He chuckled.

“I don’t like being alone either…”

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