Before we get started I would like to say that most of what is said in this chapter you already know, there are just more details included that may end up being important down the road. Please take this chapter easy, it has many cute moments but there are heavy topics that are discussed. That's all, Enjoy :)
TW: MENTIONS OF CHILD ABUSE
Harry Styles
Our lives are filled with moments; brief periods of time all put together. Moments of peace, moments of regret, moments we wish we could go back and change. There's more to add, but I think the point is clear. We live in these moments not knowing what's to come; whether it's a slap across the face, or a kiss that's shared with a lover, we never truly know what's going to happen... Until it does.
One thing I've learned throughout life is that if you're living in the moment and truly accepting that you don't know what's to come, it's not necessarily a bad thing. Living in the moment means you get to sit back and enjoy the small pockets of peace and joy that aren't appreciated as often as they should be.
This moment, right here, right now, I'm sitting next to the most beautiful girl that I've laid my eyes upon. Tearstains are left on both our faces, as we sit in silence absorbing the truth behind the sad, beautiful, yet tragic life of Alexis Monpettit. I've been watching the waves out in the distance that seem to be growing bigger and bigger, thinking over everything that has just been spoken. I promised her I wouldn't ask questions, despite the millions of thoughts I have running through my head, but as I look over at her, my brain goes mute.
As she turns her head and her brown eyes meet my green ones, everything that surrounds us disappears. I watch a final tear escape from her eye and lift my hand to wipe it away, sliding my palm further back into her hair as she moves her eyes down to my lips. I take this as my sign to continue, leaning in and knowing that this is a moment in my life I won't ever forget.
Two Hours Ago.
She takes a deep breath before turning to look out across the horizon, "I guess I'll start at the beginning," she fiddles with her rings, a habit I've noticed she does when she's nervous. I reach over and place my hand on top of hers, she flinches at first, only to grab my hand as I start to retract my arm, and laces our fingers together. My first thought isn't even that I'm surprised she's holding my hand, it's that her hand fits in mine like it's made just for me.
"This isn't going to be a happy story, I think you know that, and if you need me to stop at any time, please let me know. It's not something I tell people, obviously you know that, so I don't really know when it gets too much for others to hear," she bites her lip, as I nod my head and whisper out an "okay."
"A week after my sixteenth birthday, I came home to find my father sitting in his chair in our living room. We got into an argument over something stupid, our voices raising against each other, it ended when he decided to take his hand and smack me across the face. I ran up to my bedroom and snuck out of my window. That was the first night I had gone to the beach and made friends with the ocean. I didn't have anyone else; I was always the quiet kid with undiagnosed anxiety who sat in the back of the class, and hid behind my books, too scared to talk to other people. I liked it like that though, I kind of lived in my own fantasy by myself. My mom was my best friend, I guess. She would take me shopping, and to get our nails done, little things that made me feel special in a way, at least to her," I feel a light squeeze on my hand, and turn to look at her, "are you okay? This next part is where it gets pretty bad."
I nod my head, fearing that my voice would tremble and the tears that I'm holding back would escape.
"He had a system of when he would hit me. It was either on a Friday or Saturday, that way the teachers at school wouldn't question it if there was a mark left over. Occasionally he would do it during the week, but my mom was around most days which was a saving grace. There were times where we would argue which led to a hit or two, and other times he would just come up to me and throw me to the ground, or hold me up against the wall by my throat with no initiation on my part," she chokes on her next words, as tears well up in her eyes. An overwhelming feeling of sickness washes over me. "He was no longer my dad. A dad is someone who fulfills the responsibilities of looking after their child. Someone who is there for them, in the good times and the bad, and doesn't make their child feel like they don't belong on this Earth. I don't know what happened for him to wake up one day and no longer think of me as his daughter, his little girl." She stops for a moment as tears stream down her face, "I have one good memory left of him, all of the others have been taken over by bad ones. I was about eleven years old, and we were at Disney World. I had just finished meeting Belle and the Beast, my favorite princess and prince, and was clinging to my father's back as I was tired and the best part of the day had finished. He put me down and made me focus on what he was going to say, 'now that you've met your favorite people in the world, you have to live by what they preach; the past does not define us forever. Just because people have done things in the past, it doesn't have to hinder who they are in the present.' I guess he didn't realize when he said that to me that he would end up turning into the cruel person he's become. His past will always have an effect on who he is to me." She chokes on another sob, and this time I'm the one to squeeze her hand.
YOU ARE READING
Beige
FanfictionI was used to being alone. I was always the girl surrounded by people, yet still utterly alone. It was comforting. I had grown immune to the feeling of being by myself. But then, I met him. And despite the voices in my head screaming at me to not l...
