Authors note:
Hello. I would to thank everyone who takes the time to read this story. I hope you enjoy it (or at the very least a begrudging approval of this story as a not so complete waste) and for those who don't deal with it (it simple just stop reading no one is forcing you to read this, so don't bother throwing a tantrum and just exit the story).
I apologize because I like many of you don't find author notes to be all that entertaining but bear with me. This fanfiction story will include many characters that will appear at some point or another ooc, I might choose to include new characters (but now I have yet to decide on that), or perhaps I will decide to completely exclude another character. This is my first story and what better way to start than with the Powerpuff Girls (I was a fanfiction virgin until I stumbled across some PPG fanfiction years ago and still a fanfiction fan today).
This story will center around Buttercup and her life story. Warning, this story may include abuse, profanity, sexual intercourse, polygamous relationships and other themes some people might feel uncomfortable with. You have been warned.
I don't own Powerpuff Girls, the show or characters and/or anything else that I can be sued for.
Chapter 1
Buttercup POV:
~Sugar, spice and everything else, those were the ingredients for the perfect little girls but Professor Utonium added an extra ingredient to the concoction chemical X and thus, the Powerpuff Girls were born~
And we were born the Powerpuff Girls were born. Blossom, Bubbles and I were born or maybe created is a better word. The Professor created three perfect little girls or at least he tried to. He got Blossom and Bubbles correct but if only I was more like my sisters- at least that's what I am always told. I understand that people think that I probably just want attention or often think I am just jealous of my sister. Perhaps, at some point in time I was or still am but when you have spent your life just trying to be you, the best you that you can be and just being told that the you that you are is not good enough- just imperfect- then I believe I deserve the benefit of the doubt.
It is funny though when I try to think when in life did I reach the point where I came to realize this in my 17 years of life. I try to think at which moment in time did I realize that I was not good enough, that the anger I so bravely wore was nothing more than a mask of the pain I so desperately try to hide. I am often sure that there was not a defining moment when I went from fighting to stand equal to succumbing to my truth, rather it was the many incidences over time. I changed, succumbed as easy as I flicked a light switch. Except I did not switch off my bulb was fused, burned out.
I want to say that at least life started out okay that I was happy for awhile – saving Townsville in my blissful, ignorant childhood- but I would be lying. I came out of that explosion as happy and smiling as my sisters were, if only it stayed that way. Many people don't realize how real people are when they say that words can have the most lasting damage but I believe them because something as simple as a name started the downward spiral ~…and I will call you Buttercup because it also starts with a B…~