𝗳𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝘁 ✰❤︎ 𝗹𝗼𝘂𝗶𝘀 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗴𝗲 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

| 29 |

Chapter Twenty Nine

~

The tears hadn't stopped running down my face when I arrived home. In fact, they'd been falling even faster. I'm lucky to have the whole place to myself.

I slid my backpack off my weak arms and instantly dropped to the floor. I know that this wasn't all my fault. But honestly, the drive home made me realize that much of it is.

It's my fault that me and my mom aren't on good terms.

It's my fault that Louis and I have- well... "broken up."

And it's my fault that I'm here right now, crying on the floor only one step into the house. I can't believe myself. And I can't believe everyone. How can one get into a fight with everyone they love, and lose them all in a time span of ten minutes?

I don't know. But I did.

I take a deep breath and wipe my nose with my sleeve, carefully standing back up. My legs felt weak. My body felt heavy.

Legs trembling, I carried myself slowly across the house, until I arrived at my bathroom to clean myself up.

I stared at my image in the mirror. She was disgusting. She had lost the people she loved and blamed it on them, rather than herself.

"Who are you?" I tremble, tears running down my eyes as I stare at the girl in the mirror. Mascara smeared, heart broken because she knows she disappointed everyone. Everyone.

"Fuck you!" I scream at the top of my lungs, frustrated with the girl. My hands began to shake.

"You're fucking stupid! You ruined everything! No wonder everyone hates you!" I yell again and try to catch my breath. There's a moment where it felt like she was just staring back at me, with pained eyes.

And I realized I was hurting myself too.

I couldn't bear to stand her and grimace at myself any longer. I quickly hurried out of the bathroom and instead brought myself to the comfort of my bed.

I forgot how amazing it is to lay down and sink into a mattress. Today it felt 100 times better.

My once aloud cries dimmed to muffles in my pillow. I didn't even bother to turn the lights on (which is normally habit for me).

The silence of my house mixed with my quiet sobs topped this all off.

I don't remember pain being this strong.

Picking my face up from the pillow, I grab my phone and even if I know it'll destroy me, I go to snap memories.

3 years ago, today.

There was Noah, holding my phone and running around my house. In the background I saw and heard myself yelling for him to give it back.

I remember that day. It was the first day back from break, freshman year. Noah looked so different. So little. And we looked happy.

Eventually I caught up to him, tossing my short statue around his waist, which caused the boy to fall down and start laughing like a maniac.