The guys were playing videogames in the basement and I was standing against the wall. They kept trying to include me, but I’m not into videogames.
“Go home! No one likes you!” Harry yelled jokingly at Louis.
I winced at the words I’d heard so many times before, different variations but always the same meaning from the same person. I slowly walked along the wall until I reached the stairs. I turned the corner, making sure no one was watching, before running up the stairs and out the front door. I didn’t bother to stop and put my shoes back on so I was walking down the sidewalk barefoot.
I continued walking through the neighborhood until I came along a small lake with a gazebo off to the side. I walked into the gazebo and sat on one of the benches built into the wall. I looked up as a flock of birds flew over, my hand subconsciously rising to the paper airplane pendant resting over my collar bone.
I was so distracted by the birds that I didn’t realize someone else had walked up and was standing in the entrance.
“I thought I might find you here.” My head snapped over to face where the voice had come from, my heartbeat relaxing some when I saw who it was. “My sister always came here when she was angry with our parents,” Harry explained stepping into the old structure with me.
“It’s better than other places,” I said. He sat on the bench next to me, facing me slightly, “like where?”
“At the moment . . . anywhere.”
“Even New Orleans?”
“Especially New Orleans,” I laughed. He gave me a confused look so I explained further. “I’m not happy my parents died, no one would be, but I’m happy I left other people there behind. I obviously miss my few close friends, but there are some people I could do without seeing for the rest of my life.”
“Is this person a guy?”
“Yeah”
“Did he hurt you?”
“Not physically, “ I looked down at my hands in my lap, playing with the hem of my shirt.
“You know verbal abuse is still abuse right?”
I felt a tear roll down my cheek. No one’s ever described it as abuse before. I’ve wondered if it was but I always told myself I was being overdramatic. The name calling, the demands, why did I ever love him? What did I ever do to make him hate me so much. That, he never told me. It was probably one of the only things he didn’t say.
*1 year ago*
He walked into my living room after his best friend’s birthday party. He was obviously drunk, I could smell the beer on him. I had just finished a painting for my mom’s birthday and was cleaning up my set up.
He came up next to me and slung his arm over my shoulder making me spill dirty paint water on the tile floor.
“Hey,” he dragged out the vowels, “watch what you’re doing.”
I rolled my eyes slightly and poured the rest of the water down the sink. Bending down to clean up the spill I said “I see you enjoyed yourself.”
“So much!” he yelled. “There was this blonde there, she was so hot!” I stiffened at the mention of another girl. I stood up and he whispered in my ear, “Don’t tell Loren, but I took her to my car and we fucked.”
I stepped back from him, “b-but you have a girlfriend.”
“But she’s such a drag, and a prude. All she ever care’s about are her stupid paintings, and to be honest she’s not even that good.” I felt the tears streaming down my face.
“Get out,” I muttered.
“What? You gotta speak up, darling.”
“GET OUT!” I practically yelled, “You cheated on me! I should’ve been done with you a long time ago, but I always thought you would change. Obviously, I was wrong. It was the last straw and I want you out!” The whole time I was stepping closer, pushing him back towards the door. Opening it I did a sarcastic wave through the doorway, motioning for him to leave.
“I always knew you were a bitch,” he said as he walked through the door.
I slammed the door, turning and running up the stairs straight into the bathroom. I sat on the toilet, crying, until I finally got the idea. I opened the drawer to the right of thee sink and dug through until I found what I was looking for.
I held the thin silver blade between my fingers. I slowly placed it on my wrist, making a thin red line of blood appear. It hurt but it took the pain away from him. I moved the blade to my left hand and cut the fingertips of my right. I did this for 2 months. I didn’t paint for 4. If you look closely you can still see the scars.
*Present Day*
I didn’t realize how many tears I had shed until I felt the wetness drop on my hands.
I blinked the tears away and wiped them off my cheek with the side of my thumb. I felt Harry’s palm rub the top of my back in small circles.
“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but I’ll be here whenever you do.”
I leaned my head on his shoulder. I wanted to thank him but every time I tried the words just turned into a small cough, not being able to get them past my throat. We decided to walk home, him leading the way. We walked in silence, not an awkward one, but a comfortable silence.
When we got back to the house the rest of the guys were gathered in the kitchen. They all looked up when they heard us come through the door. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Harry shake his head and they all pretended to go back about their business. I walked towards the stairs, glancing back over at the guys I made eye contact with Niall but quickly broke it and headed up to my room.
