i hate you | l.h

twenty one

my mother was the epitome of strong. she held her head high after my father left, and the details of it all were blurry, like a painting that had been left out in the rain. their fights were smudged, the hurt smeared, and yet the only vivid image that i had was my mother standing tall.

she never talked about it. the only image she let people see was the successful, independent, intelligent version of herself. people weren't as beautiful or strong as they looked.

she threw herself into her successful job, saving lives from left to right, but the one thing she neglected was me. so, i learned how to grow up in a "broken" home.

she didn't deal with her emotions in her darkest times, and neither did i. like mother, like daughter.

"lydia? lydia? where are you going?" called out molly from behind me, confused. she grabbed my arm, causing me to turn abruptly around to look at her.

"home." i said, forcing a grin. "i'm going home."

"is luke driving you home? didn't he drive you here?" the look of confusion on molly's familiar features deepened. her blonde hair was blowing around in the wind, and she brushed the stubborn strands back against her forehead.

"oh, right." i didn't dare look at the fire, where everybody was sitting around, toasting marshmallows. i didn't want to see if he was there.

i knew that molly could tell something was wrong, but i also knew that she wouldn't pry for details. "i'll drive you home." she gently grasped my hand in hers, squeezing. "let's go home."

-

molly had dropped me off at my house, but not without giving me one of her infamous glares that told me that if i didn't tell her what had happened, she'd hurt me.

i was now laying on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. there were marks from where i was younger and i used to have those glow in the dark stars that you stuck on. a few that never came off were scattered across, and they still dimly glowed if it was dark enough.

i reached underneath my covers, because in all honesty, all i wanted to do was sleep. pulling the white sheets aside, i saw a glimpse of a small object laying underneath. a globe.

i remembered when luke had given it to me. "one day, when we're older and financially stable," he had said, when giving me it, "we will travel to the destination that you land on."

i had rolled my eyes at the time, but i still put my pointer finger on the tiny plastic globe hanging from the metal keychain. it had little countries in different colors with bright blue oceans, and i spun it. it whirled for a couple of seconds, the colors becoming one big colorful blur until it stopped with my pointer finger above it.

"paris." i had said.

he looked over at my painting and smiled back at me. "paris."

but that was then, and this was now. i picked up the globe, opened the drawer underneath my desk, and tossed it inside. my phone was perched on my desk, and instinctively, i reached for it.

i was definitely not going to be upset, or cry about what had happened this night, but i needed to talk about it. and the only person that i knew that would help me was molly. she would probably insult me, and call luke and i stupid, but she would always make me feel better.

i dialed her number, waiting for her to answer.

"hello?" she answered after two rings.

"so, did michael care that i stole you away from the bonfire?" i asked, my phone jammed against my ear. there was a point in a relationship where you cut the small talk, and go straight to the conversation. molly and i had gotten to that stage years ago.