Forgotten (Harry Styles fan-fiction)

Chapter 2

"Baylee, hi!" The beautified woman beams at me through a perfected pair of bright white teeth.

"Hi Elizabeth," I say through gritted teeth, trying to force the ends of my lips to curl upwards but failing miserably. The woman that stands in front of me seemed a stranger. A complete blank to my mind. I had so many questions that I had planned to ask her, that seemed to all subside as she all of a sudden grabbed my shoulders with her petite hands throwing me forward, swinging her arms around my neck. I was overwhelmed by the gesture and slightly taken back. I didn't know how to react. I just stood there with my arms by my side and a mutual facial expression. The last thing that I wanted to do was hug her. 

Five years ago I wouldn't have even had a thought about her. Not even a bother. I didn't expect to end up here of all places. I had always imagined being with my Grandma.

"Please, I'm your mother!" She sheepishly corrected.

"Well, you haven't been much of one for the last 12 years have you?" I spat, disgusted at the words that seemed to dribble from her mouth. She was a little taken back with my comment, but I don't really care. The amount of grief and pain I have been through because of her, she is lucky I am even speaking to her.

With that Sammy came bounding towards me and jumped up onto my coat.

"SAMMY?!" I shouted as he licked my face quickly, placing his paws up onto my shoulder.

Sammy had been my only friend when I lived with the dreadful women previously. I had been given him by a neighbour and he was the only thing that she had not broken or gotten rid of that was mine. 

"Sam, heal!" She summoned. With this my former best friend went and sat on the crude women's feet. Like a servant begging for forgiveness.

"Wow, even more whipped than him." I said, pointing to the man that had not even looked at me since I had encountered them.

"This is my husband Derek, you know Derek right?" She questioned. Looking rather pleased with herself. Fuck knows why, I'll rip her stupid fucking family apart if she messes with my dog again! Slut.

"As a matter of a fact, no I do not, considering I wasn't invited to the 'glorious' event." I beamed with a tad of sarcasm.

With my comment she didn't really know how to react. Sadness flashed across her eyes then replaced with a hint of remorse. I don't understand how the women can be so nice to me after everything, after all the sleepless nights, endless betrayal. The women hated my life 12 years ago, she used to tell me how I fucked up her life through a brandy bottle. I was forced to wait in the kitchen whilst a string of unknown men came in and out of the house. 

"Please, come in, we can get you set up in your room, I've painted it yellow, your favourite colour right?" She says, sounding rather pleased with herself for remembering a colour that I, for some reason, had taken a liking to in my younger years.

"Actually it was my favourite colour, I despise it now. That was over 12 years ago. I'm surprised you remember to be honest, through all of that drinking that you do." With that I grab my white suitcase, that now has a big brown smudge of mud on thanks to Elizabeth's driveway, and my gym bag and stomp into the house, pushing past the slightly greying man.

"Sam, here boy!" I call, deliberately trying to piss her off. The strong sound of tapping bellowed through the unfamiliar house, my furred friend, was at last, by my side once again. This was not, and never will be my home.

...

As I started unpacking my stuff into the newly furnished room, a call and knock came from outside the door.

"Baylee?" A young boy call came.

"Um, come in?" He sounded like a little boy. Just as I was a little girl in this hell hole many years ago.  

With that a middle aged teen-aged boy opened my door and popped his head over the edge of the door.

"Hello?" I squirmed as his intense gaze stared up and down my steadily heating body.

"Hey I'm um Ben," He seemed shy and timid, rubbing the back of his lean neck as he spoke. Fabulous, another fucking coward that can't speak his mind. I mean who lets there wife take a load of abuse from a girl? A coward. That's who. Like father, like son ay.

"Good for you, can I help you?" What does he want a written invitation to leave?

"I'm Derek's son." The boy seemed nice in his own personal way but he's his son, why would I want to know him?

"That's nice...Can I help you with something or are you just going to become my stalker for the next year?" With that the young boy glanced at the floor and walked out closing the door behind him.

After a while I had managed to put the whole contents of my suitcases into the white dresser. Each individual piece of clothing scrunched to the side with my jumpers neatly folded in the middle draws. Out of my gym bag I took the photograph of my grandma and me, and placed it on the bedside table. I was smashed out of my face at that wedding. The cream dress that I had on was soon after covered by an entire bottle of red wine.

Although each of these things are in the room surrounding me, they are not mine. It would never be home, and never be my stuff.

My home is wherever my Grandma is, nobody could ever take her away from me. Nobody.

...