Legacy // H.S

35.

'You spent a lifetime waiting

Tomorrow chasing'

*

Harry

'Atlas, it's so good to see you again!'

Mum pulls her into a hug before she even looks at me, though she's had two weeks around myself and only spent a day with Atlas in the past. It made sense to bring her here today, to have her in the safe place I've been hiding away in since Zayn's dad passed.

In this house, the scariest monster we have is the past. Memories of a man that is not around to hurt us anymore, but they don't taint the walls that protect us here. The house we once lived in is no longer a part of our lives, left for someone else to paint over with their own happiness. Now, we have something that is entirely ours, and Steven Styles cannot find us here.

The moment my father died, I felt relief. Of course, I would. Years spent as a punching bag, watching him treat my mother and sister as little more than objects, until I was forced to do the same. The weight that had held me tightly under his grasp didn't just lift, it entirely evaporated before my eyes like the puddles on the ground as the sun shines after a storm. I could breathe again, though I was terrified to even try, because the lingering shadow of his hand on my throat felt so undeniably real.

Since then, however, it's become something more. Something I still fail to understand. There is the relief, and then there is something else. Anger? Maybe. But that's always been present. Perhaps, it is the longing for a relationship that wasn't defined by fear and violence. Perhaps all I want, deep down, is memories with a father that loved all of us unconditionally. Grief. I think that's what it is. Grief for a father I hated, grief for not having one I needed.

Mum and Cara have already dealt with these emotions. They didn't run from them like I did. They healed together because they were ready to. I'm not sure I ever managed that. Ever sat with the impact of my father and evaluated what it would mean for me. Never worked to stop the way it defined me. I look at them, and they seem so bright and happy, hardly victims of the man we once knew. And then I see my reflection, the way my forehead has deep set creases in it that most my age won't see for another five or ten years. The way my skin looks exhausted in most lights. The way the circles under my eyes are darker than others because I rarely sleep through the night without waking in a fright. I see all these things and I'm haunted by him. A ghost that never leaves me, no matter how I try to cleanse the air or pray to a higher power; it's always there.

I think I've relied on Atlas to help me ignore it. Use her to block whatever faces I see when their hands start to pull me down. And she tries so hard to help me mend the trauma on my mind and heart. She listens and guides and gives me whatever I crave most. She's shown me that perhaps I am worthy of love, and perhaps I am able to reciprocate it. For so long I feared that my father had jilted any chance of showing someone affection or care or even human decency, but when I'm with her I know the warmth in my heart is true and good and would never hurt her.

Her smile has been so wide since I told her where we would be heading today. I suggested it a few hours after I came home, the two of us still tightly wound together like a bow. I said I wasn't ready to leave them just yet, but I needed to see her, and it would make me so perfectly happy if I could have my family and my little gem in one place for a few days. I won't keep her from all the work she's doing, so much that I'm proud of her for achieving, but even leaders need their break. A chance to breathe and live their lives away from whatever they dedicate themselves to.

'I could say the same to you,' she says in return, holding my mum close.

Just like the first time, seeing them together has my heart beating faster, my breathing accelerating, my smile growing. Like it was always supposed to be this way. Like it really can be normal.