alaska • harry styles

Chapter 1

I remember running down the stairs, knowing the exact time when my father would come home. I remember embracing him in my little tiny arms and being hugged in return. I remember our deep conversations about flowers and bees and everything life offered, as well as our talks about my best friend replacing me with someone new, someone prettier.

I remember every little detail that would have taken part of the moments we shared and I remember him telling me that I'll always be his baby girl, no matter what.

Well, he obviously forgot that promise.

I clung onto the bench like it was a lifeline and I didn't have the chance to survive without keeping my strong grip around the in ocean blue fabric covered edges.

There were tears burning in my cold eyes, but there was no way I would start crying or even show any kind of weakness in front of my so called mother.

My lungs were clouded with hate; not only directed towards myself but anyone who dared to breathe in this second of silence. I hated everyone and everything, including myself. I wanted to destroy something, I wanted to scream until my chest felt tight and my throat was sore. I wanted to throw punches against walls until I would no longer feel this goddamn numbness inside my body. But I didn't move. I didn't do a thing. All I did was scream.

"I can't believe! You're lying, admit it!" I yelled. My voice was nothing but a grumble, scratchy and raspy as those words left my throat.

My mother's jaw dropped, there was a clear emotion shown on every inch of her face. And that emotion happened to be anger.

"How dare you?!" she gasped. Her eyes were full of pure amusement, she enjoyed seeing her worthless daughter upset and reckless.

But she was wrong. I wasn't upset, not even close to it. I was numb and when you're numb, you don't feel anything. You don't feel sad and you don't feel upset. You feel like an empty hole.

My mother never really cared about me, she clearly showed me since the day that she gave birth to the two of my younger siblings. It wad true to say that I was used to being the less appreciated daughter. I wasn't surprised by her cold acting around me, but she usually wouldn't go to the point where she started insulting me, she would always just let me know how unappreciated my presence is. Or existence.

"You won't make yourself any prettier by telling me I'm not, you know?" I said, staring right into the grey pair of eyes that belonged to my mother.

"At least, I won't be as ugly as you are" she laughed harshly, but put her concerned face back on seconds later.

Clearly, my own mother was ashamed of having the daughter that gives a shit on society's idea of perfect.

I am too sensitive to live with company, but at the same time I am too sad to be on my own.

I was afraid of getting hurt, but I knew if I was alone, I would be the one hurting myself. I tried my hardest to stay away from anyone, because I couldn't stand someone leaving me. Yet I've already lost the only person I would let in. Into my world; the world I've built a wall around so it would keep anyone from hurting me.

"I'm sorry for you. I really am. Isn't it depressing to be unable to miss? Unable to love? Instead of pointing out your own flaws, you keep on searching for everyone else's. You ain't even sure about your own disability, but you keep on laughing over mine. I hope you'll realise one day" I said strictly, ready to feel her hand colliding with my cheek.

I knew that she was about to hit me when she lifted her hand, but she let it sink a few seconds after.

Instead she glared at me, saying some words that really made me wish she would have rather caused me physical pain.

"We'll be moving to Canada in a week."

And with that, she turned on her heel and walked out of the room. I heard her going upstairs, giving me the opportunity to let the words sink in.

I closed my burning eyes, leaving them shut to take a deep breath and let one of my rubber bands hit my icy cold skin. That was just some bad habit I had; it somehow happened to calm me down and keep me from freaking out. But back then, I was just so angry. I had to repeat her words for a thousand times in my head to even get what she just said.

Was she just serious? Move to Canada in a week?

I really knew that my mother could be a beast, that she could be a heartless person, but I didn't expect that she'd do such a thing. Simply forgetting someone after only two months? Someone you loved, someone you cared for and wanted to share your life with?

You can't just forget a person you've been thinking about all day, it's like trying to remember someone you've never known.

I clenched my fists, jumping up, nearly throwing over the table but not caring because all I really wanted was just to reach my room and slam my door the hardest I could.

I didn't care if my mother would freak out or just slap me, if that would make her day then she should just do that. But she better not expect me to stand there watching her breaking what's left of our broken home.

I ran upstairs, slamming my door behind me and immediately throwing my weak and limp body on my bed.

The familiar fragrance of icy sea breeze and fresh pure snow laid in every room of this entire house, the cold, blue and white walls of my kingdom matched the image of our own winter wonderland. My father always tried to give us as his children the best and only the best, he wanted us to be happy and able to enjoy life.

I couldn't really imagine a life without him in it, but now that we were told he was dead, we even had to give away his house to make new memories and start a new life.

Well, who even said that I wanted to start a new life? Because I clearly didn't.

A new life meant new people, new experiences, new surroundings and new pain. And I wasn't ready for this. I knew I was never going to be ready for this, because I was a complete wreck. I was a hopeless mess that couldn't get fixed anymore and therefore I stopped trying to get better. I didn't want to get better.

I felt tears slowly tumbling down my face, leaving behind wet stains all over my cheeks and a pair of red puffy eyes. I don't know why I actually started crying. I just laid in bed while tears were tumbling down my face, yet feeling as empty as always.

My eyes were bloodshot, my curly brown hair in a total mess while the make-up on my face started to drown in my tears. I usually never wore make-up or covered anything up, because my real friends shouldn't judge me by my look anyway, but there were still times when I felt like I needed to hide myselt a bit. I wasn't really shy at all, I actually turned quite confident and cold to people, but I didn't want to show that much of myself.

Most girls in my age cared about nothing but their clothes, their shoes, their nails, their hair or their make-up, but I rather sat there in silence and read some books or listened to some music.

In the last two months I've been keeping me more to myself, I wouldn't open up to people no more, neither would I always be friendly; mostly because people wouldn't appreciate my politeness anyway.

Well, I don't know if they actually do, but since my dad, the guy that has always been my number one friend, has been gone, I just broke a little.

Or rather my heart broke a little. And I filled that hole with ice, so I would no longer have to feel broken. And it worked, even though I might have hurt others by the way I acted. But I think that's what makes us all human. We all make mistakes, we all have our flaws and that doesn't stop us from being perfect, because as simple as it is, perfect has no definition.

Even if I end up heartless, I still am the way I want to be. And I wouldn't change that for others, I'm going to get criticised anyway, so I might as well do whatever I want.

I didn't want to get heartbroken again. I wanted to stop caring.

Because a heart of ice is so much stronger.

A/N: aye this is the first chapter! thank you so much for reading ily (this is dedicated to @xlinaxstylesx because she's amazing)