Fighting the Stars - A Jack Harries Fanficton

Chapter 3

-Flashback-

I sat on the soft grass in my backyard, digging circles into mounds of dirt. The soil was clogged up underneath my small fingernails. I had plenty of toys, but I wanted to be a normal kid. Normal kids play in the dirt, right?

“Sophie!” my father yelled. “Get in here!”

He sounded angry.

I got up and brushed the dirt of my pants and blouse before running inside to the kitchen. My father stood there, a vain buldging from the side of his neck. He was holding his pager, which had droplets of water dripping down and descending to the ground.

“What the hell is this?” he asked, his voice hard. 

“I’m sorry,” I said, having trouble making my ‘R’ sounds. “I didn’t mean to!”

“You’ve ruined it, Sophie! Now I have to explain to my boss why I need a new pager!” he screamed at me. His cheeks were flushed red in anger.

“It was an accident,” I told him, hoping he would forgive me. I had wanted to play with it, it was something I hadn’t seen before. I didn’t mean to drop it in the toilet. I got it out right away. I didn’t think he would notice.

Suddenly he threw the pager on the counter and grabbed my arm with painful force. I whimpered, but he didn’t seem to care. He shook me violently.

“You are in big trouble.” he stated. He jerked me into the living room. He forced me down on the sofa. Tears were welling in my small eyes. I didn’t want him to be angry at me.

Suddenly he slapped my cheek so hard I thought my neck would for sure snap. I squealed in pain as the crying began.

“Never,” he said firmly, grabbing my arm and pointing his finger, “touch Daddy’s things again. Got it?”

I nodded my head, holding my hand to my cheek. He walked away without another word, leaving five-year-old me to whimper helplessly on the couch.

-End Flashback-

And that was the day it all started. The first domino to fall. The reason I find it so hard to put trust in anyone.

I was scared to tell my mom, so I didn’t. She found out, of course, a few years later. The bruises were far too difficult not to notice. But, much to my surprise, she did nothing. I deserved it. I deserved to be hit and humiliated because I was a burden. She blamed it on the stress.

But secretly in the back of my mind, I’ve always had the thought that she gets hit too. But she knows that there’s nothing she can do. She has to be strong, for money’s sake.

It only got worse when we moved to London. Some days I couldn’t even go to school. My eyes would be too black to cover up or I would be in too much pain. It never seemed to stop.

Then I found James.

He made it all go away. When I was with him, I was a whole other person, someone more like myself. My parents adored him - mostly because he was rich as well. My dad was so pleased with my new boyfriend, he didn’t consider me as much of a disappointment. I was treated like a human being, for the most part at least.

But here’s the thing, when you grow up an abused child, you grow up different. You grow up feeling unwanted, useless, even worthless. But when your parents have big names you still have to put on a pretty face for the world and pretend to be someone you’re not. Even going to school I put on a mask.

I never went to sleepovers, because I didn’t want to risk anyone seeing my scars. I would change in the bathroom stalls for gym class. I never went swimming.