Hidden Identities // H.S

Chapter 8

TW: Few mentions of domestic abuse

  "Nothing interesting is happening," Zayn whispers to me. I nod in agreement, my eyes never leaving the monitor showing us what the rest of the viewers watching see from their tv.

I'm scared of how this is going to turn out. Everyone around here is waiting for a reaction. I can tell the cameramen are starting to get annoyed listening all about Becca. Even the interviewer is getting impatient. She's trying to poke at Harry with hundreds of questions until one question finally hits his mark. So far, none haven't.

Harry looks offset, his eyes roaming everywhere. One of the cameramen moves over which gives Zayn and me a clear view of Harry and Becca on set without us looking through the monitor.

"Harry, how hard was it for you to deal with your grief after your brother's death? Especially with all of it being put all over national news?"

Becca sucks in a breath, knowing that her brother can snap at any minute now. "How hard do you think it was, lady? Your brother is murdered and you have to hear his last words? Do you have to listen to the last moment of your brother's life while you sit there hopelessly? How the hell do you think it felt like lady?"

I gulp, feeling my own heartbeat start to pick up. I hate when a guy raises his voice. Harry's loud voice is similar to Christopher's. Strict eye contact and words that make you feel like you're on the edge of a cliff. Any sudden word can make you flinch and fall over. Then the ground hits you, but in reality, it's your fiancé's hands smacking your face. The stinging sensation disappears after a while after your face starts going numb.

How do you think it feels having a wife who's a whore? Who's sleeping around with every man in her office? Huh, Avalon? You fucking whore!

Before you know it your crouching into the nearest corner. You're stuck. There's no escape. He has you cornered and yelling all types of horrible words at you. All until they finally hit your weak spot and everything comes crashing down.

Do you think your dad liked having a whore daughter? God Avalon! Look at yourself. Why the hell are you crying? Whores don't cry.

Your mind is begging for him to stop. You're begging that he doesn't leave another mark for you to cover up the next day. You can only put on so much makeup before it starts becoming noticeable.

"Is that all you have to ask? My grief? Well, guess what lady it sucked. Living with the grief sucked. Is that what you want to hear? Is that what you're going to put on headlines tomorrow? Is it?" Harry is nearly yelling at the top of his lungs. It snaps me back into reality for a moment. It isn't the ideal way to be brought back to reality.

"Jane? Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost." Zayn puts his hand on my shoulder. His sudden touch makes me gasp and nearly flinch away from him.

He furrows his eyebrows, with a sudden flinch back. His face says it all. He's confused why I flinched at him. "Jane?"

I don't even feel myself get up from the chair but I did. "I have to go." I choke out. I could care less about the interview going on. I run out of that set and into the fresh air outside. The breeze hits me like a fish going back into the water after being out in the air. I'm gasping for air as if there isn't enough around me. I lean my back against this hard wall, squatting so I'm nearly sitting.

Breathe in breath out, Avalon. You're away from him now. He doesn't know where you are anymore.

My breaths come out shakier each time and as the minutes pass they start to go smoother. I made a complete fool of myself in front of Zayn. He's going to know about Christopher and I'm going to have to tell him everything.