Title: Ugly
Author: Margaret McHeyzer
Genre: YA/NA
Release Date: October 26, 2015
Blurb
If I were dead, I wouldn't be able to see.
If I were dead, I wouldn't be able to feel.
If I were dead, he'd never raise his hand to me again.
If I were dead, his words wouldn't cut as deep as they do.
If I were dead, I'd be beautiful and I wouldn't be so...ugly.
I'm not dead...but I wish I was.
I'm not dead...but I wish I was.
REVIEW
* * *5/5* * *
* * *5/5* * *
It was never like this before. Ever.
I'm twelve years old and I can remember when Mom, Dad, and I were all happy. But that was years ago. It's been a long time since there's been any happiness in this house.
If this book doesn't make you a crying mess, there is no saving your soul. I cannot begin to explain how deep this story touched me. I'm not trying to be cheesy or cliche but without having too many expectations of an author who I haven't read their work before, UGLY moves past the dark and sad. It pushes the boundaries in everything that might make a book, a book. It doesn't follow any rules and when it comes to the readers sanity? Well let's just say Margaret McHeyzer shows no mercy.
"I'm sorry," I say again. Tears are falling hot and fast down my cheeks. My head hurts from where he was pulling my hair, but I don't dare try to rub the spot.
"You ugly fuck." He kicks a boot into my leg.
The pain is instant and my leg feels like it's shattered. "Please, Daddy," I beg again, burying my face into my hands.
But 'please never seems to work.
Nothing does.
I've just got to take the beatings, because that's what stupid, ugly girls do.
Jesus. I'm crying just having to relive the moments.. I knew writing this review would be hard. But I didn't expect that it would hurt my heart this much, just by going through those saved passages.. Fuck. I'm a mess..
A review will NEVER be able to do an ounce of justice to the sheer gorgeous way this dark, hair raising and boundary defying book has done.
Lily has been called 'ugly' almost all her life. She has been living a childhood and many of her teenage years with a father that not only doesn't deserve that title but shouldn't be able to get away with those unbelievable acts he has done.. Lily has a strong mind, she knows what is happening to her. But the sad truth that comes with many abuse victims, nobody can understand what you are going through or why you are still in that situation but you.
I don't have friends at school..they may see the bruises.
Not the bruises on my skin, no, those are easily concealed. I mean the bruises hiding deep down inside me. The pain and sadness that's with me from the moment I wake, to the moment I go to sleep.
One day she meets a boy who despite her better judgment shows her what a 'normal' life is like, what she was missing out.. and in general, Trent is just moving in on an emotional wrecked, bruised soul that would see a compliment with a different eye compared to most others..
Lily and Trent's relationship flows easily and soon enough, they are together.
Lily is happier than she ever was in her life. She still doesn't understand what a guy like Trent would want from or see in her, when he could have any girl he wanted. It also doesn't help that he alcohol ridden father doesn't fail to voice his opinion when it comes to resenting that she should have died instead of her mother. And if that wasn't a low enough point or a soul crushing moment, you won't like what comes with the rest of the story..
I always say, never trust a smile that doesn't reach the eyes. Can this be said about Trent or his father and his uncle? Trent's mother was another reason that my heart broke into a million smaller pieces..
At one point I thought I couldn't take anymore of this heartbreak, this torture in having to endure a darkness within a book I don't think I have ever witness before. I've read dark and heart shattering books before. I've even read a couple that make me anything but smiley for the next couple weeks.. UGLY is one of those stories.
BUT, just when you think it couldn't get any darker and deeper into the pits of insanity, it gets worse at the same time that we slowly see a flicker of hope..
The way he winked at me, it was as if he noticed me. Saw past the ugly exterior, and the broken interior. From a distance he didn't see the damage, he saw a girl...
I'm crying again. Damn it!
Could this be Trent she is talking about? Is it someone else? Who could have brought this sense of hope into her life??
I cannot tell you how much sympathy I had for ALL the bullshit of a life that Lily has. It's never fair that while we laugh and smile at the smallest of things, another breathing soul if going through something like this. I mean, how can we ever think that this is okay? What kind of monster would put someone through this, let alone child that LOST their mother?
How... why.. I can't. I am honestly at a loss of words, as I always seem to be when it comes to stories like these that trigger something deep inside, something that makes my chest ache. I can't explain it but all I know? All I truly know is that these bloody tears that have started to cloud my vision, these tears scream emotions. They are too loud for their own good, but at least you can know how much this book has affected me.
Me. The girl who is far beyond being fixed. Someone who read so many dark and fucked up books that I sometimes wonder what could be wrong with me. But a girl that wholeheartedly wishes anyone like Lily's character would be strong enough to move out of their life in hell.. HOPE. That's the only thing that might get them through..
HOPE
SECOND CHANCES
END
DARKNESS
SOULFUL
EMOTIONAL
HEART-WRENCHING
DEEP
INSANE
ADDICTIVE
DIFFERENT
BRILLIANT
I can't say any more before I start to breakdown or spoil anything.
THANK YOU Margarer McHeyzer for not only providing an ARC but for creating something that without a ounce of a doubt, will forever hold a big piece of my messed up heart. If this review didn't say it or if my tears didn't try to explain it, I ABSOLUTELY LOVED every single word of your book, UGLY. It deserves it's own shelf for a book that twists the readers heart into a 360 of an emotional, dark roller coaster that never quite makes the turns you expect..
Thank you for creating UGLY.
<3
xx
Purchase Links
$2.99 for a limited time only
Price will change to $3.99 soon after release
Trailer
Prologue
It’s days like today I wish I was dead.
“Lily Anderson, you get your ugly ass out here right this minute. Don’t make me come after you,” Daddy screams.
He’s so angry. I knew the moment I heard him come home from work I was in for it. I was in my bedroom, lying on the floor trying to do my math. He slammed the front door so hard the windows in my room shook.
And then I knew, I knew I was in for it.
“Lily Anderson!” he yells again.
As soon as I heard him yell I ran to my hiding spot. I’m inside the closet in the hallway, wedged as far into the corner as I can get. Mom’s old coat hangs in front of me and I can still smell a faint waft of the perfume she used to wear.
“Lily Anderson!” he shouts. I can hear the anger in his voice and I can already feel the pain he’s going to inflict on me when he opens the closet door. I know what’s coming.
I close my eyes tight, scrunching them up so no light can seep through. I put my hands over my ears so I can’t hear him.
“I swear to God; if I have to find you, you will not sit for a month.”
My knees are folded into my chest. I’m trying to make myself small, invisible, so he forgets I’m here. I’m rocking myself, trying to block out what he’s saying.
School is safe. School is safe. School is safe. I keep repeating the mantra because in a few short hours I’ll be back at school. Maybe tomorrow I can go to the library after school, stay there until it closes and then sneak in after Dad’s passed out, because he’s had too much to drink.
It was never like this before. Ever.
I’m twelve years old and I can remember when Mom, Dad, and I were all happy. But that was years ago. It’s been a long time since there’s been any happiness in this house.
Well, before Mom died anyway, and not a day since.
Mom died when I was nine. I don’t remember much about her, except I remember her telling me how ugly I am. How life would be better if I was taken away from them. How I’ll never be anything, because I’m stupid and ugly.
Sometimes I dream happy things. Like me, Mom, Dad and a little blond-haired boy all going for a picnic. The sun beamed down on us as we played outside and laughed. We’d eat yummy sandwiches Mom made for us, and we’d drink homemade lemonade. We’d spend hours outside, laughing and talking and just having fun. Mom would tell me how pretty I am, and how much she loved me. She would play with my hair, braid it, and then we’d go and pick bright flowers to take home and put in a vase. Dad would smile and call us “his girls”, always kissing Mom and hugging me. Dad would put the little boy on his shoulders and run around the park, trying to catch the clouds.
I love those dreams, and I hold onto them; wishing they were real. But I’ve never had a mom like that, and my dad doesn’t talk much unless it’s with his fists, or to tell me how ugly and useless I am.
I feel him walking around the house. The floorboards creak and the vibrations from his footsteps come through the floor to where my bottom is. I close my eyes tighter and try and breathe as quietly as I can.
Please go away, Daddy. Please go away.
My heart is beating so fast. My hands are shaking and I’m trying really hard not to think about what’s going to happen the minute he opens the closet door.
Shhh, it’s so quiet. The only sound is my heart thrumming in my ears. Nothing else. Not a whisper, not a rattle…nothing.
Maybe Daddy’s left. Maybe he’s gone to the pub to have a few drinks. Maybe, just maybe, he’s left...forever.
I take a deep breath and just relax for a moment. My shoulders drop and I finally stop rocking.
Slowly I take my hands down from my ears, and I’m so happy because I can’t hear him yelling at me. I can’t hear him at all.
Gradually, I begin to unscrunch my eyes from the way I’ve tightly closed them. But something’s not right. There’s light coming into the closet.
I don’t even get a chance to open them fully before a rough hand reaches in, latches onto my ponytail and yanks.
“I told you it’d be worse for you if I had to find you,” Dad says, as he drags me out of the closet by my hair.
I’m desperately trying to hold onto my head so he doesn’t rip my hair out. My feet are trying to find traction on the dirty floorboards.
“Please, Daddy. Please. You’re hurting me,” I begin sobbing as I plead with him.
“Then your ugly ass should’ve come when I called you, you stupid bitch. You’re fucking worthless, you ugly idiot,” he says. But now his voice is calm as he continues to drag me toward the family room.
That’s when he’s most scary. When his voice is low and his eyes are filled with hate.
He throws me against the side of the sofa and takes a step back to look at me.
I look up and can see he’s the angriest I’ve ever seen him. “You dumb, ugly piece of shit,” he says, as he paces back and forth in front of me.
“Sorry, Daddy. Whatever I did, I’m so sorry.” I cower into myself, trying to make myself as small as possible.
“You’re just too fucking stupid, aren’t you?” he spits toward me as he brings his hand up to scratch at his chin.
“I’m sorry,” I say again. Tears are falling hot and fast down my cheeks. My head hurts from where he was pulling my hair, but I don’t dare try to rub the spot.
“You ugly fuck.” He kicks a boot into my leg.
The pain is instant and my leg feels like it’s shattered. “Please, Daddy,” I beg again, burying my face into my hands.
But ‘please’ never seems to work.
Nothing does.
“Lily Anderson, you get your ugly ass out here right this minute. Don’t make me come after you,” Daddy screams.
He’s so angry. I knew the moment I heard him come home from work I was in for it. I was in my bedroom, lying on the floor trying to do my math. He slammed the front door so hard the windows in my room shook.
And then I knew, I knew I was in for it.
“Lily Anderson!” he yells again.
As soon as I heard him yell I ran to my hiding spot. I’m inside the closet in the hallway, wedged as far into the corner as I can get. Mom’s old coat hangs in front of me and I can still smell a faint waft of the perfume she used to wear.
“Lily Anderson!” he shouts. I can hear the anger in his voice and I can already feel the pain he’s going to inflict on me when he opens the closet door. I know what’s coming.
I close my eyes tight, scrunching them up so no light can seep through. I put my hands over my ears so I can’t hear him.
“I swear to God; if I have to find you, you will not sit for a month.”
My knees are folded into my chest. I’m trying to make myself small, invisible, so he forgets I’m here. I’m rocking myself, trying to block out what he’s saying.
School is safe. School is safe. School is safe. I keep repeating the mantra because in a few short hours I’ll be back at school. Maybe tomorrow I can go to the library after school, stay there until it closes and then sneak in after Dad’s passed out, because he’s had too much to drink.
It was never like this before. Ever.
I’m twelve years old and I can remember when Mom, Dad, and I were all happy. But that was years ago. It’s been a long time since there’s been any happiness in this house.
Well, before Mom died anyway, and not a day since.
Mom died when I was nine. I don’t remember much about her, except I remember her telling me how ugly I am. How life would be better if I was taken away from them. How I’ll never be anything, because I’m stupid and ugly.
Sometimes I dream happy things. Like me, Mom, Dad and a little blond-haired boy all going for a picnic. The sun beamed down on us as we played outside and laughed. We’d eat yummy sandwiches Mom made for us, and we’d drink homemade lemonade. We’d spend hours outside, laughing and talking and just having fun. Mom would tell me how pretty I am, and how much she loved me. She would play with my hair, braid it, and then we’d go and pick bright flowers to take home and put in a vase. Dad would smile and call us “his girls”, always kissing Mom and hugging me. Dad would put the little boy on his shoulders and run around the park, trying to catch the clouds.
I love those dreams, and I hold onto them; wishing they were real. But I’ve never had a mom like that, and my dad doesn’t talk much unless it’s with his fists, or to tell me how ugly and useless I am.
I feel him walking around the house. The floorboards creak and the vibrations from his footsteps come through the floor to where my bottom is. I close my eyes tighter and try and breathe as quietly as I can.
Please go away, Daddy. Please go away.
My heart is beating so fast. My hands are shaking and I’m trying really hard not to think about what’s going to happen the minute he opens the closet door.
Shhh, it’s so quiet. The only sound is my heart thrumming in my ears. Nothing else. Not a whisper, not a rattle…nothing.
Maybe Daddy’s left. Maybe he’s gone to the pub to have a few drinks. Maybe, just maybe, he’s left...forever.
I take a deep breath and just relax for a moment. My shoulders drop and I finally stop rocking.
Slowly I take my hands down from my ears, and I’m so happy because I can’t hear him yelling at me. I can’t hear him at all.
Gradually, I begin to unscrunch my eyes from the way I’ve tightly closed them. But something’s not right. There’s light coming into the closet.
I don’t even get a chance to open them fully before a rough hand reaches in, latches onto my ponytail and yanks.
“I told you it’d be worse for you if I had to find you,” Dad says, as he drags me out of the closet by my hair.
I’m desperately trying to hold onto my head so he doesn’t rip my hair out. My feet are trying to find traction on the dirty floorboards.
“Please, Daddy. Please. You’re hurting me,” I begin sobbing as I plead with him.
“Then your ugly ass should’ve come when I called you, you stupid bitch. You’re fucking worthless, you ugly idiot,” he says. But now his voice is calm as he continues to drag me toward the family room.
That’s when he’s most scary. When his voice is low and his eyes are filled with hate.
He throws me against the side of the sofa and takes a step back to look at me.
I look up and can see he’s the angriest I’ve ever seen him. “You dumb, ugly piece of shit,” he says, as he paces back and forth in front of me.
“Sorry, Daddy. Whatever I did, I’m so sorry.” I cower into myself, trying to make myself as small as possible.
“You’re just too fucking stupid, aren’t you?” he spits toward me as he brings his hand up to scratch at his chin.
“I’m sorry,” I say again. Tears are falling hot and fast down my cheeks. My head hurts from where he was pulling my hair, but I don’t dare try to rub the spot.
“You ugly fuck.” He kicks a boot into my leg.
The pain is instant and my leg feels like it’s shattered. “Please, Daddy,” I beg again, burying my face into my hands.
But ‘please’ never seems to work.
Nothing does.
I’ve just got to take the beatings, because that’s what stupid, ugly girls do.
Author Bio
Possibly it's the fact there are 26 letters in the English alphabet, and they can create something so beautiful or so empowering they're capable to change our lives.
How important is it that we break suit and stretch our minds?
I like to think of myself as 'unique'. My stories aren't for everyone, and sometimes I may push what you believe to be 'normal'.
Normal is subjective.
I prefer to be known as a person who's never been 'bound by custom' but is 'unique by choice'.
I hope you do read and enjoy my stories.
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