I’m the Silver Swan.
And now? Now I’m just the remnants of the broken puppet they all used me as. Everything human inside of me has been taken out and replaced with nothing but cotton and fake love. There’s no coming back now—not ever.
The End
(For Now)
I’m always terrified that I’m leaving someone out when I write my acknowledgements, because there are just so many incredible people who have contributed to my writing career one way or another, whether it be their friendship, their advice, or their eyes. This doesn’t go in order. I’m totally winging it (surprise, surprise). I want to start with a huge thank you to these girls: Caro Richard, Andrea Florkowski, Franci Neil, Michel Prosser, and Amy Halter: my beta team! Thank you for caring about my stories enough to tell me when something is shit.
Isis Te Tuhi & Anne Malcom: my girls. I adore each of you, thank you for being there for me every day—no joke, I hit them up every single day. Nina Levine, for being your sweet self and being there for me for anything, I adore you! My Wolf Pack, I can’t shout out how much I love these girls. They’re my tribe, at times my rock, and above all—my girls. Jay Aheer for the beautiful cover, you talented little human. Kayla Robichaux for being my top bish, my soul sister, and my editor! Barbara Hoover for polishing my words at the very end and always doing it in such a respectful way. The girls from Give Me Books, for all the hard work they put into promoting authors like me! You girls are the real MVP. To the bloggers, I can’t express how much I admire and love you all. Thank you for all that you do! My loyal, amazing, sassy readers: I love you HARD. None of this would be possible without all of your undying support, thank you! Last but not least, my little family. There have been times where you’ve all had to live on Weetbix (hey, kiwi kids and all that...), toast, and leftovers. There have been times when I’ve had to lock myself away and ignore you, because I had either found my flow or I was on a deadline (they never come at the same time. Oh no, that would be too easy). Love you, munchkins! For us! Think this is long enough? I think so.
Jason Derulo “Stupid Love”
The Weeknd “Or Nah”
Dead Prez “Hip Hop”
Avenged Sevenfold “Hail to the King”
Machine Gun Kelly “Bad Things”
The Game “It’s Okay”
David Guetta “Where the Girls At”
Cheat Codes “No Promises”
Redman “Cisco Kid”
Cypress Hill “Tequila Sunrise”
Kendrick Lamar “Humble”
Tash Sultana “Jungle”
Tsar B “Escalate”
Tsar B “Myth”
To the girls who have been through hell but come out with its fire burning through their soul, its crimson bleeding from their heart, and the devil as their side bitch.
This one’s for you.
For us.
Straighten that crown.
Deuces.
MOMMY? I DUCKED BEHIND MY closed bedroom door.
As I peeked around the corner, my mom started raising her voice, stabbing her finger into the man standing in front of her. “No, this wasn’t part of the plan!”
The man smiled in a way that made me clutch my teddy, Puppie, tighter. “You don’t call the shots. She’s a Venari. You will have to run, and run fast if you don’t want this catching up with you.”
My mom clutched the locket on her chest. “She…,” my mother whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks. “She’s just a kid, Lucan. She… she—”
“Is the Silver Swan, Elizabeth. You must run. Now, before Hector finds out.”
My mom sucked in a breath just as I stepped backward, quietly running to my bed. Slipping under the covers, I wiggled into the warmth and clutched Puppie closer. It was my birth present from a close family friend, and I’d slept with her since. She had ballerina slippers, a loose dress, and her hands stuck up in the air when the puppet strings were attached. When my door finally cracked open, my eyes slammed shut as I began to scratch one of the button eyes on my teddy. The material was worn, and the puppet strings were now broken. I was seven though, so I should’ve been too old for Puppie to be sleeping in bed with me. But I know why the man was here.
He comes here every Friday.
I know what he does next.
Bleeding echoes reverberate around Madison’s bedroom as sobs wrack through her body. Clutching her knees up to her chest, she scrunches her eyes closed, attempting to block out the familiar memories that assault her every night. Like a murky walk down a cold, damp road, alone, unable to break free from the confinement of which she’s constricted to.
“This is part of who you are, Silver.”
Goose bumps break out over her flesh at the slithering invasion of that voice. And then everything changes, as if she’s watching herself from the outside as a different person.
“No!” Madison tossed and turned in his arms, attempting to break her wrists free from the tight grip strapped around her.
“Shhh, Silver, you’re not your own.”
“What?” Madison gasped, tears streaming down her cheeks. “What do you mean I’m not my own?” The hand that was around her wrists went to her loose ponytail, and he tugged it down slightly. “Please don’t. Not tonight,” Madison pleaded, her throat constricting through the pain, and the betrayal.
“You best get used to this, Silver. This is only the beginning of your life.”
“But I’m little.”
“This is better than being dead.” Then he gripped onto Madison’s pajama bottoms and tore them off, flicking them across the room. She closed her eyes and dreamed of a day, a better day, where her family secrets and ties weren’t coming into her bedroom every Friday night. Black Friday was what Madison called it. She feared it, despised it, and one day, she hoped to put
