A/N: This story will have lots of triggering subject lines covered I will try to give warning for chapters that are extra triggering but you should expect this to be very triggering and you may want to avoid. This story will include; F/F, Rape, Self harm, and abuse. This will not be an exact take on Hannah Montana. Miley will not be famous but will still be a singer just only as a hobbie. Billy ray will also not be famous. Jake will still be in the story, only he will be Jackson's much older friend and he will not be famous. No one famous will be in the story. Jackson will be 2 years younger than Miley. This story will have several different writing styles and formats, as it's my first solo project and I am not sure what style works best for me yet. *opinions are always welcome, even if negative, can't get better if you're only told you are awesome*
Ps: still looking for a beta reader, reply in comments if you'd like to do this for me. Also this is based on my life to an extent so please be gentle with the comments on the content.
Disclaimers: I do not own or have legal rights to Hannah Montana but if the owners want to give me legal rights I am okay with that.
Prologue:
Dear Journal;
I said, I would write about this when I was ready. . . I don't think I will ever truly be ready. I just figured I would try now. Mom has been dead 2 years as of tomorrow, we moved out to Malibu just over 18 months ago. I made a few friends really fast, Lilly and Oliver. Jackson made friends fast too, though I sort of wish he hadn't. I am not trying to be mean, it's just, well, I guess it's story time. Get comfy. It was the best of times it was the worst of times, just kidding, eh… It was about 2 weeks after we moved to Malibu, Dad had to fly home to take care of a couple of things, and Jackson's friend Jake from camp, was in town. Dad asked Jake to stay with us, he wasn't so bad, like a more annoying version of Jackson, who thinks he is better than everyone. It was the second night that dad was gone, I had nothing to do. Jackson felt bad so he invited me to watch 300 with them. I was sitting on the floor, and they were on the couch. A little bit into the movie, Jake asked if I wanted them to make space on the couch, so I informed him with all my blankets, it was more comfortable on the floor. A little while later, Jake moved beside me and stole some covers, he said he was cold. It made sense to me, so I figured since he was a church friend and older than us it would be okay to share covers. I didn't say anything. All of a sudden his hand was on my thigh, I looked at him, confused. He winked at me and put his finger to his lips signalling to be quiet. He isn't a little guy by any means, he is tall and big. The look on his face said don't fuck with me. So I stayed quiet. It was just a hand on the thigh right, maybe it was just me and it meant nothing. The movie was kinda scary, there were a lot of guys fighting on the screen, but I wasn't super scared. I noticed he was sliding his hand upward on my thigh, but I thought maybe he just wasn't paying attention to his own hand, he was staring straight at the screen but no. The next thing I knew, his hand was inside my pants, and he was … you know "playing" with me. I grabbed his wrist, and said stop quietly. I didn't want Jackson to notice, he was only 13 he shouldn't have to deal with this crap, he was to little. Jake used his other hand to move my hand off his wrist, and he whispered in my ear, "make a sound and i break your arm." I didn't know what to do, so I turned back to the movie, . . I tried to ignore what he was doing, but my body wasn't listening it liked how it felt. How does that even make sense? I didn't want it, I didn't like it, yet it felt… good? I felt like my body was lying to me, trying to trick me. My brother said he was gonna go to bed, and Jake stopped. He gave my brother a hug goodnight, and went into the bathroom. I sat there frozen. He came back into the room, I was scared of what would happen next. He looked at me and said; "I finished in the bathroom, you can go to bed." I was really confused, what did him finishing going to the bathroom have to do with anything? I knew better but I had to know, so I asked "why does your going pee have to do with me going to bed?" He laughed, it was a laugh I will never forget, he answered the question though. "I didn't go pee, God you are so dense, I finished as in I blew my load" I didn't ask, I wanted to but I didn't ask I got up to go to bed, really confused. What the hell did "blew my load" mean, was it something bad? Was he okay? . . I got to the doorway, before he grabbed my arm. He looked at me, and said, "Do you really not know what I mean, or is your face frozen at stupid?" I was hurt, I looked at him, and said "Just because I don't know what that term means doesn't mean I am stupid, we can't all be pervs" He let go of my arm, and I ran upstairs to my room and slammed the door. I thought it was over. He came upstairs, and into my room where I was in bed hiding under the covers. He said, "don't make a sound, and listen carefully." so I did. He told me blowing your load, means getting off for guys, and that he did that. He asked me if I had ever had an orgasm, and I didn't have an answer, I didn't know this word either. I decided that if I had one of them, I would know what it was, so I said "no and I don't want one" He laughed and told me I clearly didn't know what it was, because everyone wants them. But he said I didn't deserve one yet. He took off his pants, got into to bed, grabbed my head and pulled it to his dick, told me to suck it. It was so gross, it tasted and smelled, . . weird. After a while, he said I sucked at it, and then he grabbed my arm and twisted my wrist behind my back and pulled up hard. Tears started to roll down my face, he said tell anyone and I will hurt them. He put his pants back on, and walked to my door, before turning back, and saying "this may have been the first time but it wasn't the last, and you better be worth my time next time." It happened every night for the rest of the week til dad got home and he left. But Jake made sure to come back at least once a week, he still does. . . I met Lilly and Oliver a few days after he left. I was sitting at this spot on the beach where no one really goes, it was nice and quiet, I went there to write. I had tears spilling down my face while I was writing. Lilly came up to me sat beside me and asked if I needed a hug, and we have been best friends ever since, but I still can't tell her or oliver anything about it. They know someone hurt me but not the ins and outs.