Midnight • (Zayn Malik)

smoke

It had been years since my mother and I actually spoke. I don't know why but somehow, in a book of explanations I'll never find, my mother was able to comfort me. We didn't mention Cassie, or how she slapped the skin off of my face, or how my father was never home. She didn't try to buy me something or take me somewhere or ask me too many questions.

She simply said, "If you feel love it isn't true-feelings are fleeting. You have to choose love, and thus, all the pain that comes with it."

The thing was, I wasn't ready to choose yet. I took comfort in knowing I had a choice because before it felt as if someone was crushing my ribs beneath their feet and my head eternally underwater. At least with the option to choose I can breathe properly. And as of now I was laying in my bed with the rain beating against my window and thoughts of school far away in my head.

I had no desire to draw or listen to music or even move from my position. The only thing I wanted to do was exist. To become aware of the soul beneath my skin and bones and listen to what calls to it. At the moment I was strangely peaceful and even more strangely, I had my mother to thank for it.

All of those years of hating her had taken a toll on me of which I hardly noticed. While I carried around a heart with holes in it, the biggest caused by Cassie, I neglected to realize the second biggest. I had taken all of the sadness, confusion and anger and channeled it all into hatred for my mother. It would've been divided between her and my father but he was never around. And maybe my mother had a very horrible way of dealing with what happened, but maybe she didn't deserve what I put her through.

At around 11:24am Violet called me.

I ignored it.

At 12:51pm my mother came in with a sandwich and a bowl of strawberries. I told her not to let anyone in if they came to the front door unless it was a boy that looked like this (I showed her a picture of Louis).

At 3:13pm the doorbell rang. And again at 3:22pm. And two more times after that. But no one came up and I didn't come down.

At 6:18pm my phone exploded. There were multiple calls from Violet, texts from her and Monte, one text from Louis saying if I needed anything to call and one call from him. I didn't reply to anyone.

The next time my mother came up, I asked who all had come to the door.

"Violet twice, Monte once and a boy who looked familiar but nothing like the picture you showed me," she reported.

My chest tightened and my stomach twisted, "Did he look like this?"

I showed her a picture I took of him on the way to Disney World without his knowledge.

Her blue eyes that mirrored mine brightened, "Yes that's him."

"Oh," I managed.

She seemed to notice something about the expression I was wearing, "So this must be why he looks so familiar."

I thought back to all of the times he had been here. Some to stay with me in my room or to watch movies, others to take me somewhere. The memories altogether were overwhelming and I tried my best to shut them down.

My mother wiped the tear from my cheek before it hit my pillow, "Would talking about it help or just make it worse?"

I blinked the rest of the tears in my eyes away and looked at her for a moment. Then I told her absolutely everything.

She couldn't possibly catch all of the tears before they fell this time and so the steady stream successfully soaked my pillow. When I finished she stared down at my white comforter, picking at a loose thread for a minute.