My Sunshine (John Lauren's X Reader)

Prologue

YOUR P.O.V

Your name is Y/N Valéry Y/L/N and you're 19 years old. You got your second name from your mother, whose name also was Valéry. You were born when your parents were both sixteen. They were very young but did everything in their power to keep you safe. They had a very loving relationship and everyone always dreamed of having a relationship like them.

When you were two, you and your parents moved to Costa Rica in Spain. You were a very bright and smart kid of your age. You learned your first sentence when you were only eight months old. You could write letters and words when you were two, almost three. You grew up bilingual: Spanish and English. You were originally born in the very east of London, where your father was born too. Your mother was born in Costa Rica, what made her move back later with you and her husband.

They were married as soon as they both were eighteen and immediately moved. Your parents met at school. Your mother was an exchange student and your father helped her in her time in Britain. Your parents loved you dearly and stayed up full nights, just so they were awake when you woke up. Making sure you still knew that they would always be there for you.

Of course all good stories have to come to an end, and unfortunately this end came sooner than expected. You and your parents were in an elevator. You were only four years old but you can remember that day better than you want to. The elevator stopped halfway, which caused a shock to run through the cabin. You were stuck with two other people. An old man and a pregnant woman. Your parents told you to stay calm and so you did. You were always a wise kid, and knew to listen to your parents. So you stayed calm and tried to close your eyes, hoping that if they opened again you would be safe.

You were stuck in the elevator for two hours when the firefighters arrived. The door was opened with great force and the pregnant woman got helped out quickly. She was close to passing out and had to be moved to the hospital immediately. Then they helped the old man get out. When he got out, the elevator started shaking. My mom quickly ran to the firefighters and handed me over.

I asked her what was wrong, but she told me to just stay calm. She had tears in her eyes and I knew something was wrong. When the firefighters finally had me, the elevator fell down and landed with a loud crash. My parents fell fifteen stories down. We heard the ambulance emerge in the room but it was already to late. They both had died. And they were only twenty.

I was given to a foster family in Madrid, since the rest of my family lived in Australia. At first the foster family was nice, but the longer I got there, the worse it got.

They forced me to clean the house, or they would beat me. They gave me little to eat and I slept on the ground. I worked day in, day out. It was a big family so I had no breaks. The children of the parents were bratty and told me to do whatever they said. Like parents, like children. I would cry myself to bed every night, hoping my parents survived somehow and came to save me from this horrendous place, but it never happened.

When I was ten, they started abusing me. It wasn't uncommon for me to break bones every once or twice in a month. They wouldn't let me go to a hospital so I found a way to sneak in medical books and take care of myself. They didn't give me a lot of new clothes, so I learned myself sewing and creating new clothes with old ones.

When I was twelve, an old woman knocked on the door of my foster family. She claimed to be my grandmother and told me my parents left me a fortune, but I could only get it when I turned twelve, which was exactly that day. She took me under her wing and bought a huge mansion in Costa Rica. I lived there with my grandparents. When I was sixteen my grandfather passed away. I was devastated. He always made me laugh when I was sad or was having another nightmare about my parents. It took me a long time to get over him and depression got the best of me. I started cutting myself and eating less. When my grandmother found out, she talked to me everyday. She studied psychology, so she knew how to talk to people. Also, she was my grandmother and I learned to always listen to my family and always let them come first. I stopped cutting and started eating again.