i see you // h.s.

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{ note:  this is a work of fiction. names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the authors imagination or are used fictionally. any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead are entirely coincidental besides the facts that this is a fan-fiction about harry styles }

      Emma's   p.o.v

Right now, right at this moment I see my life as if I had already lived it, an endless parade of parties always the same narrow people, the same mindless conversations, like I'm breathing a breathe I've already taken. I feel invisible, that I could scream at the top of my lungs surrounded by a crowd of people and no one would even hear me, no one would notice or care.

I just sit there, my eyes held only  to my clear porcelian plate barely listening to the chatter going on around me. I have zoned out completley that if someone were to come up and talk to me I wouldnt even notice. but its ok my subcouncious says because nobody notices you anyway. I am so lost in my thoughts.. in my feelings. I feel so alone...so lonely. There's no words to describe what I am feeling, but all I know is that I want to run far away and hide and never come back. 

I hope this is just all a nightmare and in the morning I would wake up from this bad dream to a perfect happy life where everything would be a fairy tale. But I know that wont happen. Miracles dont happen over night. I was only hopeful, hoping that one day I would live a happy life and rid myself from these chains that are holding me back.

I dare to look up but I do anyway. I slowly lift my head up from my plate and look around the room. My parents mahogany table has been transformed. A white lace table cloth drapes over the the dark polished wood, expensive cutlery and china dishes are placed in front of the guests,  two big bouquets of red roses are set in the middle of the table and In between them is a large tin looking jug filled with ice to keep the beverages cool. Even the napkins match the tablecloth. Of course my Mother would go all out trying to impress these arrogant rich people. I find that somewhat amusing at how pathetic she really is. I try to compress my laugh but it gets caught in my throat and I cough.

I turn my head, the chattering stops and its quiet, all attention has been diverted to me. The total opposite of before. The guests give me a strange look. Have they never heard anyone cough before? as for my mother she slowly turns her head from the lady she was talking to and stares at me. I keep my eyes fixated on her and pretend its only us in the room. I have to show her she has no control over me.

My eyes scan her, her  pale  face looks exhausted, I can clearly see the purplish colour tone of bags underneath her cold, hazel eyes. Deep lines are indented into her face,around her mouth, underneath her eyes. Her wrinkles stand-out more now than ever. I hope I never turn out like her, she reminds me of a bug I want to squish underneath my foot. Her thin red lips are pressed into a hard line. I cant remember ever seeing her smile or laugh genuinely except to my father.  To me she has always been this cold soulless person.

I thought that maybe after my fathers death she would change, both for me and for her. That the loss of my father would make her look to me and notice I'm the only thing shes got left, we could get to know each other like normal mothers and daughters do and be happy together. But all the change she has made is for her own benefit. Its like she hadn't realized that he was my father and that I actually cared about him. She never asked if I was OK during those tough times after his funeral. She never treated me right, all my life shes treated me like a doll. I guess I was just naive to think she would just change like that. 

I held the stare for about a minute until she broke her gaze. I could tell the guests were getting quite uncomfortable. She turned her head to the lady next to her and then looked around the people at the table. Then she finally spoke up.

"My apologies, shall we continue?" 

The heads turned back to the table, their eyes no longer starring at me. Except one, my mothers eyes gave a quick ice cold glance at me before she returned speaking. I could hear everything in the room .  The babble had fired up again, voices speaking over one another, bottles of wine being poured into wine glasses, the sound of  music playing in the background. The sound of laughter . Everyone here seemed to be enjoying themselves.

I could feel all the life around me. So why did it feel like I was the only one not living?