His Inspiration (A Justin Bieber Fan Fiction)

Chapter 4

(Felicity's POV)

"You fucking slut!" I heard when I opened the door.

I made my way towards the kitchen to see my dad holding my mom up against the wall choking her.

I ran over to her and yelled "get away from her you fucking bastard!"

I totally regretted saying that when I felt a sting across my face and then a punch in the gut and I flew across the room.

"You don't talk to your father like that you son of a bitch!"

And again I felt a solid punch at my left eye. He was drunk again. He's always drunk. I fucking hate him I wouldn't care if he died and went to hell for all that I care. I want him out of my life. I want to leave this town.

I got up and walked to my room, I didn't want to deal with this. I don't want him hurting my mom though. What guy hit's a woman? Oh that's right, that monster that my mom married that's my so-called step dad. I miss my real father, I need him. He's the only guy I could ever trust.

"To trust anyone else, you must trust yourself first." My dad always told me.

Losing thought I noticed an awful image in the mirror. I had a black eye and I was bleeding from the mouth. How God damn perfect. My father did this to me, ugh I despise him so fucking much. I sat crying myself to sleep.

_____________________________________________________________

I arose to the sound of my alarm clock for school. I did not want to go. Yes, I know i'm popular and you probably think that popular people always want to go to school. Well i'm not that type. I'm normal. People at school think i'm perfect, but i'm really not. If they only knew...

I made my way to AP art and saw Justin, I couldn't help but put a smile on my face.

"Hey what happened to you?" Justin asked.

"What?" I said.

"Y-your eye, what happened?" He stuttered out.

"Oh nothing." I said.

"Felicity, that is not nothing." He said.

"I just don't feel like explaining it right now okay." I said firmly.

He turned to face the teacher and we sat and listened for the rest of the hour.

(Justin's POV)

I was shocked to see the urgency in Felicity's face as she left. I opened the door for her, and she mumbled a soft "sorry" as she gracefully jogged through the double door enterance of my house.

"Thanks!" she yelled as she put the car in reverse and sped out of my driveway. She left me standing there confused and disappointed that she had to leave.

We hadn't even started painting yet. I walked slowly back to the house.

I sat back down at the table while the family sat there also confused.

"What was all that about?" My father Jeremy questioned.

"I only know as much as you do." I said. "It has something to do with her mother." I restated the facts.

"Oh. Well alright. She seems like a nice girl, it'd be nice to see you socialize again. I think it would really benefit your..."

"Can you just stop, I don't want to hear this right now." I interrupted my father.

"Who said you could be this disrespectul towards your father?" He said and arose from his seat.

Fed up I went to go into my room. I honestly didn't need to start with him right now. I didn't look at him and to save me from trouble I put my head down and began to walk out.

"Where do you think you're going?" My dad asked while he tugged on my forearm to get me to come back.

I winced because he grabbed my arm with all the cuts. I informed you that i tried to commit suicide by cutting deep, it doesn't mean that I still don't cut on a daily basis. More or less the pressure on my arm was unbearable. I had to appear as if nothing was wrong. It hurt so bad as we stood there waiting for myanswer. I did this to myself though because i'm worthless, and nobody needs me. Tears starting to form from the thoughts, my head shot up.

"I said where do you think you're going?" My dad repeated firmly.

"Just to my room, so I wouldn't bother the family." I said, my voice cracking.

"I don't like this behavior at all Justin, it needs to stop, did you ever think that we want to see you? Or that we want you to be happy?"

"Well i'm not." I stated simply.

I finished making my way down the hallway to my room. I'm pretty sure that left him distraught, that was the first time I had let my depressive behavior show through in front of them. Some of the teachers had confronted them about me seeming to be depressed, and they respond with "no not our Justin, just going through a rough patch after the death of a family friend." They don't realize that it just wasn't her death, it was everything that I realized that was wrong about me after it happened.

When I arrived at school the next morning, Felicity's eye was bruised. I asked her about it, and she didn't want to talk. So we went to class and sat in our seats.

Once the teacher was done, I looked over at her project (we had paper mache assigned this week) and it wasn't that bad.

"I guess your paper mache isn't as bad as your painting." I teased.

"Haha funny." She faked and looked down. "Sorry I left like that, is there another time we can paint?" She suggested.

"I'm free Wednesday." I said.

"Perfect." She replied. "I want to get some skill to at least get a decent grade at the end of the semester, and I want get my paintings done."

"I understand." I agreed even though I didn't. I don't paint to get finished. I paint to express feeling and to enjoy myself. The bell rang and I walked out of the classroom satisfied.