ilysamwinchesteer

[ilysamwinchesteer]

My name is Abed.

I’m a survivor from Gaza, holding on to hope in a world that has fallen apart around me. 💔

The life I once knew — my home, my family, my sense of safety — has been shattered by war. Today, I live among the ruins, trying to find a path forward through the rubble and heartbreak. 🏚

Every moment is a battle against fear and uncertainty. What was once ordinary — a safe place to sleep, a future to dream of — now feels like a distant memory. 🕊️

I share my story not to seek pity, but to keep hope alive — to believe that even in the darkest places, kindness can still find a way. 🤍

If my story touches your heart, please consider sharing it or offering support. Every voice, every act of care, brings me one step closer to safety. ✨

Thank you for taking the time to listen. 🙏

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[ilysamwinchesteer]

Writing

since i posted chapter 1 of my unfinished fanfic i was hoping people could give me advice to make my writing and plot better!! i'd appreciate any advice, don't be afraid to be harsh

[ilysamwinchesteer]

Chapter 1 Rosekiller fic

I might quit this fic but if anyone actually wants to read it i'll keep it!

"Bartemius!"

A loud noise coming from downstairs is how I start my morning. I groan and check the time.

11:23. That's not bad.

I was having one of my weird dreams last night. The ones that are actually memories of my own life that I don't remember. There are a lot of things from my childhood that I don't remember but for some reason they come back out when i'm dreaming.

I lift myself out of bed, whimpering slightly as I adjust to my newly aqquired headache I usually get after the dreams. This one wasn't so bad; it was of my friends and I playing at the playground back in our old city when we were all about 10, where my family used to live before we moved from Chicago to Florida. 

Why we moved, you may ask. Well, my father, Bartemius Crouch Sr, asshole rich lawyer, got a new job as a private defense lawyer at this fancy new office. So, now i'm here in Florida, thousands of miles away from my family and friends, not like they'd want to see me anyway. The new school year is starting in approximately 3 weeks, leaving me just enough time to get to know the area and prepare for my new school. 

Last night, my father and I finally got here and started to unpack. Well, I unpacked. He immediately left to go visit the office, even though it was 10 at night. I spent the next 3 hours unpacking everything I could until I found my room and fell asleep.

"BARTEMIUS CROUCH!!"

My fathers booming voice interrupts my thoughts. I scurry out of bed and go down the stairs. My father is an average man with a slightly muscular build, greying hair, and dark cruel eyes that seem like black holes if you look at them too long. He basically lives in his work clothes, a simple grey suit. He's always been so simple and bland, like a white canvas painted grey. He hates anything different and disposes change.

 I, on the other hand, am anything other than basic or bland. Frankly, I dress like any 15 year old would, but he can never see past my shaggy hair and multi colored eyes. I go down the stairs, wearing what i've been wearing since the flight here, a band tee shirt, a pair of ratty old jeans  (even thought with my dads job we can afford new ones), and my pair of busted up converse. Since I haven't changed or showered yet and refuse to accept new clothes bought by my dads fancy ass lawyer money, I probably look like shit right now. 

I imagine what I look like, dark brown hair, long enough to cover my eyes, my wild eyes, long white scars covering both my wrists, walking down the stairs at the slowest pace you can imagine. I enjoy pissing off my dad in small ways like this, it's the least I can do considering he's beaten me since I was 6. Doing small things to make him mad is like my silent form of retaliation.

As I come down the stairs, im immediately greeted by my dads angry face followed a harsh lecture in Spanish about time management and the fact that i'm a useless piece of shit that can even finish unpacking on time. His words, not mine. 

I stay silent the whole time, too

tired to talk back like I usually do. He takes my silence as "attitude" and slaps me hard in the face. As I put my hand to cover my reddening cheek my dad walks away, seemingly satisfied. 

"Hijo de puta." I mumble under my breath, not stupid enough to anger him more. 

He must've had a difficult day at work if he's acting extra irritable, but he was only there 5 hours and it's the first day. He's never made much sense to me. All I know is that although he hates it here because of our past here, he still took the job and I know that he apparently already hates it. I also know that we've only moved here, to where we lived before my mother died, because of the "incident."

Lastly, I know that in a couple days I'm going to some fancy rich people party we were invited to, a party where Regulus Black will be, my child best friend. 

Welcome to Florida, Barty, he thinks to himself, wallowing in self pity as he trudges towards the rest of the boxes so he can finish the job he was assigned.

I suppose this is what I deserve after doing something stupid like attempting suicide and failing it, I though to myself as I finished unpacking. It didn't take long, only an hour. Now I need to figure out what I want to do today.

As I head past the mirror in the hallway, I notice something. I wince slightly as I put a hand to my bruised cheek. Fuck. I head upstairs to grab my phone, headphones, and a box of cigarettes I hid underneath my bed in my small blue box of things I can't have my dad finding. 

I head out the door with no destination in mind. Popping in an earbud, I hit shuffle on my playlist.

I tried to laugh about it

Cover it all up with lies

I tried to laugh about it

Hiding the tears in my eyes

'Cause boys don't cry

Boys don't cry

As I walk, I notice that people are looking at me. At first I wonder if they see my scars, but remember that i'm wearing a long sleeve shirt. Then I remember the bruise on my cheek. Oh. I forgot about that.

Suddenly self conscious, I slouch into myself, hoping to become less noticeable. I retreat into a nearby alleyway, hoping to get a smoke in. Just as I light my cigarette, I hear a smooth voice coming from further down the alley.