Remember Why (Larry)

Part 1

Today was my birthday, I was entering school next year. I'm 5! Mommy doesn't seem to be happy, but then again she never smiles when I'm around. She said I'm only a constant reminder. She never said what I reminded her of. This morning I'd woken her up excitedly but she accidentally kicked me off the bed. She said it was on purpose but I know she was joking, she always is. When she got up she sent me to my room and said she'll get me later when she was ready. It's been a few hours but I know she'll come soon! She did this last year, too. I don't get it but she says today is a curse for her and a blessing for me. Every year on February 1 she leaves me in my room so I don't remind her; of whatever I remind her about. The only other day she can't look at me is in August on the 17. It's an odd number, I'd be sad, too, except I didn't dislike odd numbers that badly, yet. 

Today was the first day I learned hatred, and it all went to myself. Mommy came home six hours after she sent me to my room and when she came in she was wobbling a lot for some reason. She smelt weird, too. She looked around my room until she saw me, stretched out on the floor because I'd been looking at the stars that'd been here since I was born. I don't think mommy put them there, she never answered me when I asked. Her words that day were eye-opening, revealing, and the truth. 

"Devils child," she had muttered before making her way to me, "you're bad, bad boys get punished."

I didn't know what I'd done wrong so I pleaded, "I'm sorry mommy, I didn't mean it, please don't punish me!" 

It was a pathetic cry for mercy, sympathy, something to get her eyes to look like the normal spring leaf green color and not that dark, dull green. They were almost a dark grey. 

I tried to use my birthday against her to get her to stop, "Mommy its my birthday! I'm a big boy now! Please don't hurt me!" I was sobbing and thinking back on it, that's maybe the main reason she didn't sympathize with me. 

"You were a mistake, a child I never wanted, I should've let you die, or put you up for adoption. I don't want you! You are turning into his clone! That cheating bastard! How dare he leave me with this pathetic brat! Always crying! Can't you see? Are you that blind? I hate you." and it was in that moment I learned to hate myself, mommy was never wrong and if she hated me then I did too. 

"I wish you would die!" She screamed as she laid the first kick, straight on my stomach. Her heel dug in and she twisted it around as I pulled my knees up and covered my head, trying to push down the pain but it was hopeless. How could a 5 year old even begin to hide pain as excruciating as this? She didn't stop there, as the next kick went to my arm, I tried not to scream loudly but it hurt so much, I've never hurt this bad. 

She was then kneeling next to me and said, "Look at me." I didn't want to but I couldn't say no to my mommy so I did and the ring on her finger left the first scar of many I'd ever had. That one punch and the sentence, "You deserve all this pain, bastard child," sealed my fate.

*

Today is a result in that day, but that wasn't my only mistake. I was a mistake in the first place but no, the second mistake was the first day of school. That was was day I realized I was alone in the world.

*

It was August 24 and I was happy, mommy hadn't hit me in a week! I must be being good! Maybe I will be good to the teachers, too! Or will they hate me too? Do they know I'm a bastard child? Or that I was born only to die because no one wanted me? What if they hated me too? And with these thoughts, my anxiety started. As well as my panic attacks. It first started with wide, quickly wandering eyes, and then heavy breathing as the world started spinning, I fell to the ground and couldn't even see straight as I wrapped my hands around my neck in attempt to open my lungs but oxygen wasn't seeming to come down no matter what. There was an adult voice telling me to breathe deeply but my body was going numb, my sight growing dim, and I had no more energy. 

That day was the first time I saw a school nurse and far from the last.

No, today was the last time I went to the nurse and today was the last day I'd ever need it.

My mommy had to pick me up and I never did go to class on that first day. So, really, my mistake was the first day of school but it showed on the second. When I came in, everyone was in groups, laughing.

"You better behave brat," mom had whispered harshly into my ear. I nodded and looked down, I was a bad boy again. Mommy punished me last night like I deserved. The first guy who came up to me immediately asked my name but I didn't know mine so I didn't answer and looked down. 

"Well I'm Louis, can I call you curly? Because of your curls?" He had giggled, "How are they even that curly?" He curiously touched one. 

I didn't answer him and soon he got bored of me. I didn't know that that was my main mistake, making Louis bored. No one else approached me because they had all made their friends yesterday, and Louis was telling them all I was boring, anyway. I sat down all day and did the activities the teacher, who's name I've forgotten, handed out and when it was play time I just watched from my seat as Louis and a bunch of kids played something call 'house.' 

They assigned roles of the son, the mommy, and the daddy. "What's a daddy?" I asked Louis, since he was the only one I knew. 

He laughed at me and told everyone, "He doesn't have a daddy, he doesn't have a daddy, he doesn't have a daddy!" 

After that I realized I was different. More different than I thought. After that day Louis always called me fatherless, he said it was better than curly because my curls weren't even cool. I agreed because mommy said that once, too. 

That night I asked mommy what my name was and she laughed, "Idiot, your name should be idiot." And she continued laughing before she said, "Your name is Harry, Harry Styles." 

I smiled, "and do I have a daddy?" I asked. At this my moms eyes went back to that dark, dull color that I have defined as the eyes she gets when I deserve to be punished. 

"How dare you asked me that! You don't have a daddy, bastard. You're fatherless!" And mommy called me fatherless and so had Louis, Louis was right about me twice today! That means he knows how bad I am. It was that moment all the trust in me went to my mommy and Louis' words. 

That was the day I started to believe everything they said, especially if they both said it.