Identity (Harry Styles FanFic) BOOK 1

Chapter 2: Suspension

Chapter 2:

Suspension

I've been suspended from school for the next week, in which the time I'm grounded. I sit in my room, staring at the ceiling. I was home alone, both parents at work and Darby at school. My parents turned off our wifi so I have nothing to do. Standing up I wander down the stairs aimlessly, humming to myself. Darby would be home soon, so I wouldn't be too bored then. I look around, looking at the usual faded robins egg blue on the walls, the old bookshelves full of old poems, the piano. These were all things I'd gotten used to over the years. When I looked at this house, I didn't see it as my house, just the house I was staying in. My fingers slide of the dusty keys of the unused piano, maybe I could play, maybe I couldn't, but it's worth a shot. Not really in the mood now, I walk to my fathers study. He'd always kept things in there, important paperwork. My fingers wrap around the glass doorknob and I turn it, opening the door. I tip toe in, carefully cracking the door behind me. The room has dark red carpets with my fathers desk in front of the only window. He faced the door, for some strange reason. He had bookshelves lining the walls, full of all kinds of books, old and new. I walk to his chair and sit down, swaying side to side in the spin chair. My hands go to one of the drawers, locked. My hand goes to the next, sliding it open carefully. I pick up the orange folder in it, pouring out its contents. I saw many pictures of our family, Darby as a baby, Mom and Dad younger. I saw pictures of all sorts, but there was none of me before the age of three. All the pictures were the same, fake smiles, cheesy attire, the regular cliché family you'd see in some crappy movie. We weren't real, all of this was for show, fake, but why did we have them? Why'd we have them if they weren't going to be put out and shown to the world because were just some perfect, cliché family who always agrees on everything and has two perfect daughters? Wrong. We were none of those things. We were so much more dysfunctional than any other family I'd ever seen. In my early life my parents neglected me they were always angry and on edge, but I saw through that and saw their fear, the terror in their eyes like they were hiding some terrible secret.

"Darcy!" I hear Darby call out. I quickly shove the papers back in the large, orange envelope, slamming the drawer shut and running to the kitchen where Darby would be. "How was suspension?"

"Shut it Darby, it's a whole lot better than school." She yanks open the fridge and pulls out a soda.

"I bet. Whatcha up to?"

"Um, nothing. Just reading..."

"Whatever Darcy." She sighs, heading up to her room. But I still had a thousand questions unanswered. Where were all the pictures of me? Why was that drawer locked?

***

I had to get in that drawer. It's been killing me.

"Darcy honey I asked if you could pass the salt." Mom says.

"Huh?" I snap out of my thoughts. "Oh...yeah..." I hand her the salt. I look down at the pasta we were eating, uninterested.

"So, Darby, how was school?" Mom asks. I flick around my food, tapping my foot on the linoleum.

"I'm done, so can I go upstairs now?" I sigh.

"Fine Darcy." Mom says gravely. I walk upstairs, frustration suffocating me. I wanted to know what was going on. Where was the pictures of me? I may seem like I'm overreacting but with the amount of pictures my family takes, there should be a good fifty. None of my birthdays, Christmas' or anything. All the first three years of my life wiped out, gone, disappeared. Shutting my room door behind me, I plop onto my bed. Maybe I was adopted. Maybe that's why I'm different. I felt my stomach drop. If I was adopted then who were my real parents? Darby walks in.

"What's with you crabby?"

"Nothing." I lie.

"Your usually so cheeky. What's up?"

"Darby, I'm grounded. What else is it supposed to be?"

"You never react to being grounded this way."

"Suspension." I answer, shrugging.

"Whatever you say Darcy." Darby walks out of the room, leaving me alone. I pull out my empty sketch book, having always burned my drawings after. I don't know why, I just did. Maybe it was because I didn't want to show them to anybody, they are mine after all. I was fairly good at drawing, accurately drawing a person. I open the sketch book, grabbing a pencil. I know what I'm going to draw, the people I've been seeing in my dreams. I start with the woman first, remembering every curve of her face. She was always in my dreams, at least once a week. She had long brown hair and grey eyes, and I remember her always being so nice to me, sincere, generous. I also remember her being pretty. I draw the curve of her jaw, her perfect lips a little above. Her eyes were sometimes filled with kindness, but most of the time they were filled with sadness, her smile forced and trying to cover the pain she would feel. Most the time in my dreams she would be holding back the tears as the man comforted her, and it'd be rare if they ever noticed me. I tear the page with the finished drawing of the beautiful woman, setting it aside as I begin drawing the man. He had brown hair and green eyes, and I also remember him having lots of tattoos. He wasn't some punk though, he was sincere, and even...cheeky. He had the same thing as the woman did, sadness in his eyes, a smile covering his real depression. He had dark circles under his eyes, lacking sleep. Instead of doing their entire bodies I just did a close up of their faces, wanting to see them. I didn't use color in my drawings, knowing I would ruin them if I did. I tear the page from the book, closing it. I pick up the drawings, examining them. My heart hurt for some reason. Carefully I lay the, on top of each other, heading to where we had the fire going in the den. No one was in there, so I walk over to the fire place. Kneeling down I stare down at the pictures. I couldn't burn them. I just couldn't. I don't know why, I just couldn't. Folding them up, I shove them in my pockets, wishing I could know why I saw them in my dreams so frequently. Who were they? Why are they sad? Why do they care for me? Why do I care for them? They may be fake, but I love them anyways. Do I love them? I feel like I know them, like I've known them my entire life.

"Darcy sweetheart! Don't sit so close to the fire!" Mom says. I remember the blazing fire in front of me, singeing me. I back away. "What're you doing?"

"Nothing...just looking." I murmur, walking past her.

"Darcy Gold!" She scolds, grabbing my arm. I turn to her, glaring at her, my eyes like daggers.

"What?" I spit.

"You do not speak to your mother that way! What is going on with you?!"

"My mother?!" I laugh humorlessly. "Don't act like I don't notice how you treat Darby like a princess! You act like she is the best thing that ever happened to you! You think of me as some punk daughter who doesn't follow the rules! I'm sorry I don't fit in this family like the rest of us! I'm different Chime," I call her by her first name, knowing she didn't deserve to be called 'Mom'. "I'm a misfit, I don't belong in this horrible excuse of a family!" I jerk my arm away from her, running upstairs into my room and slamming the door. Locking it, I collapse onto my bed and sob into my pillow, the only one to catch my tears and comfort me.

"Darcy?" I hear Darby murmur outside the door. "Darcy please open the door." I don't answer, letting the tears soak into my pillow. "Darcy, please..." I can hear the pleading and hurt in her voice. I don't move, I just cry. Cry because I'm alone, different, a freak. I hear her walk away from the door, and I continue to cry. I didn't belong here. I wanted them. I wanted the people in my dreams. I wish I could sleep forever.

***

I lay in my bed, awake and staring at the ceiling. Nothing was right. I wasn't meant to be here. Someone made a mistake. I close my eyes, wishing I could just appear somewhere else. Opening them again, I frown. I was still here, not with them. Not with the people I felt really knew me. Tears fill me eyes. I'd never feel right, never feel accepted, and I don't have any idea how I'm going to make it through. Maybe when I'm older I'll move away, far away, forget everything, new name, new place, new identity. But that isn't going to happen. It never could. I'm going to be different for the rest of my life, I just know it. Nothing is ever going to be right, or go right. I'm Darcy Gold. Or so I thought.

AUTHORS NOTE: I know it's short again and nothing has happened yet, but that'll change soon, I promise. Please check out my other Harry fanfics by searching Enscriptor1. Buh-Bye!