𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍|𝟏𝟖+

chapter five

TALIA

"I know, I know," I say as I run my fingers through my matted blonde hair. I was currently on a phone call with Elisha; Char was also in the background speaking. "You've got two more weeks to get better; we already gave you two last time," she argues.

I roll my eyes and let out a fake cough. "Okay, pray for me to get better?" I ask, and I hear Char laugh in the background.

"Noted," she says before she ends the call. I smile and throw my phone down next to me.

I heave a heavy sigh before I sit up. It's been four weeks; I haven't been to work in four weeks. The same thing was happening again, just like my old job. I really like this job, and I don't want to lose it. I stand up and walk over to the body-length mirror. Usually, my bruises heal within two weeks, and it certainly has. But I wanted to give my body a little more rest. It was quite shocking when I looked in the mirror to check on my stomach bruising.

It was healed, but it still had a yellow tint to it, but that could be covered up with makeup. The bruising on my face healed last week, no bruising spot afterward, which I was grateful for; my lip cut healed as well. A small smile suddenly appeared on my lips. I removed the bandage and threw it out in the trash right after.

I huffed and took a seat on the edge of my bed. I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed. Christopher was at work right now until later tonight, so I had time to go out. Have a little me time. I just had to be back before he came. I threw on a green sweater and a pair of shorts, pairing it with my black vans.

I went out to the rooftop of my apartment. I took a seat on the ledge, but this time was different; it was a different feeling up here. I haven't been up here in three weeks. My spot on the ledge felt cold, instead of warm like it usually does; it was the afternoon so the stars weren't out, and this time no music.

I just sat here, looking down at the busy street and the people who walked them. I swayed my legs back and forth while my eyes were fixated on the down below. I remembered what I told Elisha and Char; I never came up here to think-I hated thinking; that's why I came up here, so I wouldn't.

But for some reason, all I could do was think. Think about how my life would be if I never went to that frat party, how my life would be if I never set my eyes on those blue ones. How my life would be if I never fell in love with the very man who hurts me.

Who makes me cry. Who makes me hate myself.

I hate myself for loving someone so fucked up to the point where they would take their anger out on someone who is nothing but smiles. Or at least was. Yes, I was happy at one point in my life; I loved smiling; it was my favorite thing to do.

I wouldn't be Talia if I never smiled. That's at least what my mother said. My mother. God, I miss her. I miss both of them. Both of my parents died in a car crash, and I was right there with them. It was a typical family Thursday night, the best night; it used to be my favorite day of the week. Every Thursday we would go out to the local arcade in town, have slushes and pizza. But that Thursday night was different; mother and father were arguing, and they tried, god they tried so hard to hide it and avoid it, but nothing was working, and I noticed everything. I saw everything.

My father never laid a hand on my mother, and my mother never laid a finger on my father. I wanted to have a relationship like my parents. Everyone thought they were perfect; I thought they were perfect. But they weren't.

I was too blind; I was a fool. I was a little girl, a kid, who fell for the trick that they were playing; everyone did. My mother and father loved each other; they did, but even lovers fall out. They just stopped loving each other. But they still stayed together, for the sake of me. They couldn't fathom the thought of breaking up a 'happy home.'

That very night mother and father had a disagreement before we left to go to the arcade; I knew something was wrong, but I ignored it; I was too excited. After we left the arcade, the car ride was silent, and it was never silent; me and mother would always play our favorite song and sing as loud as we can, just to annoy father. I had asked if we could play a song, but all mother did was yell at me and tell me she's not in the mood to sing.

I didn't complain nor did I whine like any other kid, but that didn't stop my father from saying something. Her and father argued and argued until father forgot he was driving and let go of the steering wheel; we were on the highway; there wasn't much traffic, but there were still a few cars on the highway. We ran into a large truck, and the car skirted off the edge of the road; the car flipped over into the woods nearby. I had woken up with a stinging pain all over my body; I cried and shouted for my parents. But they were unresponsive.

I managed to take off my seatbelt and climb out, luckily because I was just a small girl. Pedestrians nearby spotted the crash, and they called the police and the ambulance. I was traumatized. I didn't speak to anyone for who knows how long. I had lost both of my parents that day, and I blamed myself every day for it. Because it was my fault. No matter how many people told me it wasn't. If I hadn't asked to play the song, mother wouldn't have shouted, and father and her wouldn't have argued.

And that's why I hate Thursdays.