Philophobia ||l.h||

IX.

||All||

The really funny thing nobody ever tells you about love is that you can fall out if it just as quick as you were pulled in. You can trick yourself into believing that you deserve better, or that you could live happily without the other person.

It was a pretty valid point that her mother made, yes, but Luna didn't want to admit that she disagreed.

She watched her mother do it with her father. After she walked in on him making love to another woman. A college student, at that.

She said she didn't love him anymore, and that she hated him for what he did to her. Her mother said she cut off communication as soon as possible because every time she looked into his eyes, she saw that horrid scene in front of her. After she opened that damned bedroom door.

Luna knew she was really lying, though.

Luna watched her mother after the split, and she saw the pain behind her mothers once happy eyes when she said her fathers name. When he was brought up in conversation. She heard her silent sobs at night, and she knew better than it being because of a single memory.

It was because she couldn't block out the old ones. The good ones. When they were in love. She knew those cries were wordless pleads to God, because she wanted to know how to get that feeling out of her. To forget about him. She knew about how she really felt, she felt alone. She knew about the picture of them in her mothers wallet, that she promised she threw out after Luna saw it.

She still sees it every time she pays for something.

She knew the reason for it being there, and it wasn't because she hated him.

"You've never been in love, Luna, you don't know! It's more complicated than you will ever know! Stupid girl."

When her mother would strike Luna, she never paid any mind to it. She would cry and be hurt yes, but Luna convinced herself it was all out of aggravation at her father. At her situation.

But she didn't think about all the other times. Those didn't have explanations.

Luna knew her was mother abusive, but she didn't care enough about herself, or anybody, at that matter, to tell. Because that was her mother.

And no amount of blows was going to change that.

Luna had felt empty for the last few days, thinking about these sorts of things.

It's been 4 days since Luna had spoken to Luke, and she couldn't hide the little feelings of guilt creeping up her spine when she heard his name. She hadn't spoken to Calum or her parents. She's been spending her time up in that attic. Playing small tunes on her guitar and pondering life.

He made her think, and express emotions. She despised that. Being numb was better. She didn't have to listen to her conscious then.

She would buy small distractions, such as marijuana or a tiny amount of alcohol. But she was short on money, which was just another thing she had to worry about. It didn't make her situation any better. It gave her mother another reason to hit her.

Luna studies her reflection in the mirror, her dainty hands feathering over the surface of the black and blue bruise that painted her face, right below her eye.

Luna hadn't ate. Without any chemicals to twist her perception, she had to deprive herself of something.

She looks at herself from the side, and runs her hands over her stomach and under her arms, feeling the soft pieces of skin that resided there. She sighs, disgusted by her own reflection.