ANON. || l.s.

Slipping

I don't believe in safety nets
Strung below that make it alright
To let go
You gotta hold on
Or it's gonna
Slip, slip, slip through your hands

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Summary of the last chapter:
Louis got into a fight with his father where he cut his hand on a glass jar that broke. He got kicked and hit by his father and was too scared to do anything. 

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Sunday was always the day Mother and I went hiking. This town didn't have a decent park to hike in so we took the car and rode out into the dense woods an hour from town. It was a completely different world compared to the straightforward blocks of houses with cement walls and dull pavements. She would wake me really early with blueberry pancakes. The smell always lingering in the house, reminding me of our Mother-Son moment. Father worked a lot, but even if he had the day off on Sunday, he knew he wasn't allowed to come. This was our little, perfect, blissful moment. 

We'd wander through the woods, collecting leaves without flaws and comparing them with each other. The best leaf of that day got displayed in the house for that week. A reminder of the seasons with all their unique colours passing by. My leaf was always the prettiest. On our hike, she indulged in all my stories, wishes, dreams for the future. It was only after she left that I realized how important those moments were. Ofcourse, as I got older the weekly hikes turned into monthly ones, but I still felt that excitement if I woke up with the smell of blueberries pancakes. 

Maybe that's what got Father to resent me. His marriage was failing and he couldn't connect with the woman I still had a connection with. It's not like I didn't try to connect with him at first. I always tried to ask him about his work at the airport. He used to tell me all the ins and outs about being a security guard at the dinner table. I then proudly told my teachers the next day that my Father was the one keeping our country safe from bad men invading our country with contraband. It was the one thing I could connect over with Father. I just had to let him talk and listen, and he was the greatest dad there was to me.
There was a switch though, and I still can't understand what exactly caused it. He just closed off one day and stopped talking. I'd ask him questions, trying to interact with him but he just shut them down and told me to stop being so demanding and nosy. Mother blamed it on the cutbacks. I just learned to not talk to Father anymore and keep my mouth shut. Mother got quieter too and the older I got, the more sadness I saw clouding her eyes. He was home less and less, sometimes gone for nights on end, causing Mother to cry in her room. I just got used to it. As long as I kept my mouth shut and didn't meddle in "adult business", Father got less angry and Mother got less sad.

I barely slept last night. For once the tumult on the street wasn't the cause but my aching body. All night I felt a throbbing pain, keeping me up, along with the fear Father could barge in any second to finish what he started. I was on a fine line between not caring if he would beat me to death and scared for what he could do. 

He didn't come home last night. I had peeled myself off of the floor after what felt like ages and cleaned up the mess to my best abilities - with the pain and all that. If anybody would walk in at that moment I'd probably get Tagged right away, with me scrubbing the floor crying and a big ass piece of glass sticking out of my hand. If they were looking for young unstable teenagers to Tag I was the perfect fit.
I had managed to pull the shard of glass out without causing any more damage I think, and just wrapped it up in a piece of cloth. It was throbbing like crazy now but I didn't see any blood on the cloth so I guess I was good.

The house seemed quiet when I hobbled to the bathroom. Since it was already noon, Father was probably still out, God knows where. Something to be thankful for, I guess. The mirror wasn't very kind today. My eye was swollen, already turning purple, and my lip had a nasty cut in it, that cracked open when I moved my lips. Not that I was planning on doing much talking anyway. I fixed my hair and swooped my fringe over my black eye for as far as I could. You could still see the bruising but I figured if I kept my head down and didn't draw attention tomorrow at school no one would bat an eye. 

Fuck. Zayn. 

I promised to call him so we'd meet. I rushed to get my phone and searched through my trousers to find the note he left me weeks ago. There on the note were a few words scribbled along with his number. "Call me ;)" 

I pondered if I should call him right away but the throbbing pain in my lip stopped me. Nothing sexy about a bleeding lip, right? I settled on texting him. After a bit of debating what to send him I typed a quick, short message to not seem too eager. 

To Zayn: Hey, this is my number. Looking forward to hanging out sometime :) Louis.

As I send the message a slam of the front door told me Father was home. I silently slipped back to my room and placed my chair under the doorknob so it couldn't be opened from the outside. Today I would be as invisible as possible.  

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Besties!!😍
How are we all feeling? 

I forgot to mention I put songs above the chapters that go along with the "vibe" of the chapter, either lyrically or soundwise.
Can you already guess what happens on Monday in the next chapter? If you paid attention, you prob already know;)

I'm trying to update a chapter a day btw so see you soon my silent readers :p

As always, I hope you enjoy the story and don't forget to vote/comment (please comment) if you feel like it:D

XXX isa