Broken: Never Swam in the Sea
By Hanna Grey
()
About this ebook
Look...I am a coward.There.Simple.I don't talk about my past because it's hard.Really hard. There's only very few people who know,but it took me ages for me to trust them
enough to be open...and yet,somehow it never gets easier.Ever!
But after yesterday,I realised,that I just gotta do it.Because you would've found out sooner or later anyway...so it's actually easier if it's sooner...before anything should ever happen between us. That way you can make up your mind...and back out...before anybody gets hurt.
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Broken - Hanna Grey
Copyright © 2020 by Hanna Grey.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
Rev. date: 03/09/2020
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Chapter 1: Email to James
Hi.
Look … I am a coward. There. Simple. I don’t talk about my past because it’s hard. Really hard. There are only a few people who know, and it took me ages for me to trust them enough to be open. And yet, somehow it never gets easier. Ever!
But after yesterday, I realized that I just gotta do it, because you would’ve found out sooner or later anyway. So it’s actually easier if it’s sooner, before anything should ever happen between us. That way you can make up your own mind—and back out—before anybody gets hurt.
I apologize that I’m writing this down rather than talking to you in person, but I’m not sure if I could handle it without being emotional, weak. It’s the last thing I want to be seen as, because I’m a strong person.
I am!
But I’m also just a bit freaky.
If I should say it in a few sentences, it would be something like this:
I have a terrible past. My family is something I would never ever wish for anybody to be a part of. I’ve experienced loads of violence, abuse, emotional blackmail, fear. I’ve seen blood, people dying around me. I was raped when I was four years old. I know the meaning of the word ‘mafia’ personally. I was a refugee when I came to London, and in the end, I didn’t deal with things the way I would have liked as I became ill and depressed and didn’t see the point of life. So basically, I’m nothing you or anybody else would want from a potential partner in crime, lol. I’m trying to be funny here, but it’s not, really.
I am gonna try to explain a little bit at least, because I owe it to you after you were so honest with me. And I owe it to myself, because I don’t wanna push people away from me any more. I’m just tired of it.
I have to start with my childhood, as it wouldn’t make any sense otherwise. So bear with me, please.
As you know already (and as much as I hate the fact!) I was born in the Czech Republic. Yeah, I can pretend to be the perfect English in cyberworld, but in reality, my stupid Eastern European face and ‘weird’ accent let me down every time, no matter how hard I try. I know, I know: we should love our home countries, appreciate where we came from and blah blah, but I guess I’m the great exception, one of those people who would rather forget about their past than celebrate it. Sounds ungrateful and terribly wrong, but hey! C’est la vie.
You asked me about my childhood. Well, erm, ‘not good’ would be the easiest way to describe it. I’ve tried so many times to think about some happy memories from there, but it’s like my brain can focus on everything but that. I had—I mean, I have—a sister who means the world to me. We only had each other back then, as our parents were, let’s say, not great.
My mother was three times married. She went through hell with each choice of partner. Thinking of it now from a psychological point of view, maybe she was just punishing herself. Maybe she believed that she wasn’t worth anything more, so she desperately searched for at least some kind of attention—love, in her words. I can understand that. But it’s not an excuse for treating your kids the way she did. Pretending that there’s nothing wrong going on. Running away from any kind of responsibility. Pretending to try to kill herself on many occasions, and always involving me and my little sister in it. I’m still so very angry about it! I can’t forgive such selfishness and pure cruelty—I’ve tried, believe me. I’ve even learnt to empathize with her, as I was ill myself, and illness makes you open your eyes and stop judging other people. But I could never be so selfish and pull other people into my problems. That explains why I have problems letting people get close to me. It’s kind of easier, some sort of protection from hurting them. Or me. And because of my mother, you can probably understand my choice of not ever having kids, because I couldn’t bear to be the same mother to anybody as my mum was to me. I will never, ever let it happen. They say it’s always in your genes, or you can’t avoid learning some sort of behaviour from your parents as a child, and I believe that. I’d like to think I’m nothing like her, but if there’s even the slightest chance, I’m not gonna risk it. And that’s my decision, which I am not gonna change whether you or anybody else likes