Promising Memoirs | soft h.s.

Chapter 29.

Harry's POV*

I slid back in bed still remembering the beauty of my girlfriend's body. I loved seeing her artistic natural self; curves all around. I remember back when she told me the first time we had our talk about that little non-outfit, about how it wasn't much of a difference until after she was married — she was wrong.

The bathroom door opened again and she still had her hair down, but was wearing a white shirt of mine that went down the midst of her thighs. She quickly slipped into bed, without any eye contact, and moved herself closer to me. I put my arm around her as she settled herself on my chest, squeezing her arms around my waist. Before she could say anything, I hushed her silent, and kissed the top of her head.

"Aubrey." She hummed a reply. "I'm sorry if I pushed you do wear that for me."Her arms loosened and she pulled herself up to face me.

"I did want to, I've been wanting to. It's just hard because I don't like the way my body looks at all. I try to look at myself in the mirror and somedays I see myself pretty, most days, not." My hand cupped her cheek as a tear rolled down on it, using my thumb to wipe it off. "I try to work all the fat off, but it doesn't go anywhere. All I've done is get my legs toned."

"Listen love, I will forever keep telling you that you're beautiful. It's okay to not be super skinny, I'm glad you're not, I don't find them attractive anyway." I saw a smile creep on her face. "We all have imperfections on our bodies that we don't like. Your stretch marks, I love."

"You noticed those?" She hid her face back into my chest and I pushed her back up to face me.

"I saw a lot and mentally noted everything. It's okay, it's normal. Do you believe that those lines and marks make you less perfect?" She slightly nodded. "It's all false. Those girls that don't have them, in my opinion, should. They tell a story. Everything that happens to us, whether it's a body change or not, it's a part of us. Why should we feel embarrassed or hide from them?"

"I-I don't know." Her head fell.

"Rhea, they're apart of you. It's all beautiful, like you." I smiled and brushed a loose hair strand behind her ear. "You know, I have something that you've never seen. One of my imperfections."

I moved her off of me and I could see her head tilt; she was confused. My fingers pulled down the right side of my pants slightly. Her face was starting to flush and I knew exactly why, but I stopped just where we I needed to. A large scar, amongst others, I was told would never change colour back to a normal skin colour.

"Harry, what's th—"

"When I was nine, my dad knocked at our home. He was drunk and was upset about something work-related. I woke up to the sound of him and mum yelling. Their voices were heard until the end of the road. I got out of bed and sneaked down the stairs to see what was going on. There were several empty glass bottles everywhere; I assumed it was everything he had drunk that night after he got home. My mum was telling him that whatever the work problem was his fault. I can't recall what exactly what the actual problem was, all I could remember was my dad telling my mum that she should shove —" I adjusted myself up higher and coughed to try and let out my thoughts. "Basically he ended up saying that he cheated on her because he wasn't getting enough pleasure from being with her."

Aubrey's eyes started to tear up again and she placed her hands on my knees, while nodding for me to continue. "My mum started to cry hysterically at his words, she already knew that he was cheating on her, especially since Gemma was already in the picture. I think it was just the way he said it, made her hysterical."

"I thought your parent's weren't together anymore then." She softly let out.

"They weren't, but he still decided to crash in anyway. My dad had then turned around, my mum picked up one of the empty bottles, and she tr—" My eyes traveled to hers then away. "She was going to hit him with it, her arm was just above his head, when I ran out beside her. My thoughts drifted to remember the tiniest details.