Assault With a Deadly Weapon || N.H / 1D

65.

Song recommendation: Brightside by the Lumineers
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I stared at the book in my hands. The leather was so smooth on my fingertips, the smell of old paper filled my nose. Usually, I loved the smell of old books. It was comforting to me somehow, knowing that something had been loved enough to last that long. This book however, was not loved. It was barely even used. This book was forgotten. The smell of its pages resembled deep, long lasting, dread. I don't know if I'd ever love the smell of books again.

"Can I read it?" Niall spoke once I'd lifted my eyes from the pages.

I nodded and passed the book over to him. My hands were shaking tremendously, I almost dropped the book in his lap.

"It's okay Phil." He covered both of my hands with one of his, just to keep me steady. "No need to shake."

He held the book in his one hand, pressing his thumb against the spine, preventing the pages from folding. I swallowed hard, watching anxiously as his eyes traced the lines of my mother's handwriting. His expressions shifted a few times from curiosity, to confusion, to concern. I could see it all on his face. He was about to learn who I really was, and what I'd dealt with when I was a child. With a final sigh, he looked up and folded the cover back on itself.

I still didn't have any words. It was hard to speak in times like this. I didn't know what needed to be said. I needed clear answers from someone, but I knew that I couldn't get them from anybody here. The only person who would be able to explain everything to me would be my Mom, but she wasn't there. She never would be there. I would never get the closure I knew that I deserved.

"So..." Niall spoke quietly, breaking the tense silence. "They left you behind with Gran."

"They abandoned me." I corrected him.

"Only to keep you safe." He reasoned, looking at me as I avoided his gaze.

"Only to keep me a secret." I said in my flat, tired voice.

"How long ago did they... you know?" He dodged the word 'death' as if it were some evil curse. Like Voldemort. He who must not be named.

"Three years ago." I felt the ball in my chest grow tighter with every breath I took.

"And your eighteenth birthday was-"

"Seven years ago." I finished for him. I nodded, confirming his concerns.

"Did they ever show up?" His eyes burned into me, I couldn't look at them. It was too much.

"What do you think?" My voice was monotone.

"I was just-"

"They didn't show up." I answered. "I spent my eighteenth birthday studying for my high school calculus exam, not reuniting with my long lost family."

"And they were alive." He rubbed his jaw, trying to piece together the story.

"They were alive." I nodded, letting out a breath. "They just didn't show up."

They didn't show up. Why didn't they show up? Did something come up where they couldn't leave? Or maybe they tried, but they couldn't find me. Or maybe they just forgot about me. I wouldn't put it past them. They weren't necessarily parents of the year.

"I'm so sorry Ophelia." Niall shook his head.

"I don't like when you pity me." I stared at the ground, trying to avoid all the emotions I was feeling.

"I know you don't." His thumb brushed across the top of my hand. "But I'm here now. Could you look at me please?"

I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn't want to see him all beaten up and bruised. My heart couldn't handle anymore ache.