Our Secret

Chapter 5

Layla's POV

I stared at myself in the mirror that day - well specifically every day. I stare at myself in the mirror, and wonder what makes me the prettiest girl in the world? No I'm not being biased, self arogant, and what not, that's how I was born. That was my natural title. "The Prettiest Girl in the World", but people always forget about my strongest asset, my strength. No. Not the emotional kind where I could handle any types of griefs, or sufferings, but the physical kind of strength. People tend to ignore that fact because they get too distracted by my beauty. I didn't get down on my knees everyday praying that every guy would want to date me, nor did I pray to be envied by every girl who breathed on this planet - I didn't pray at all, yet I was gifted with it. I enjoyed being strong for the most part. It gave me this natural sense of attack whenever it were necessary. The negative part of my strength was that I had to hide it. It doesn't sound that complicated right? Wrong. Every touch I made had to be dainty and delicate. Dainty and delicate to me had the same feeling of a normal person's touch, besides the look. I looked like I could do no harm, but in reality I could probably cause a massive shit storm whenever I felt like it. I saw the reflection of myself in my eyes. "I really am pretty," I sighed. I picked my phone up from off my dresser, and I checked if anyone had texted me, or liked my post from last night. I got a text from Chanty, and around 30 + likes on my post from Instagram.

Chanty: what did u get for #9 on last night's homework?

I blinked to make sure I had read that right the first time. Uh what homework? No one mentioned anything about homework to me.

Me: what homework?

I think it was too late for her to answer. There was one notification I had missed from before. I clicked on it. It led me to a group chat full of guys I didn't know that were in my Dm's. They had spoke a lot while I was asleep. There were 4 guys plus me. I assumed their names by what their account names said: Mathew, Cory, Eli, and Troy. Troy's account was public so I checked out who he was and what kind of perosn he was based off of his posts. He wasn't ugly, nor was he a total hottie. His hair was kinda meh, but his face was kind of not meh. His bio said ... hoes before dames. He looked around 16, maybe older. I scrolled down more carefully on what they were saying in the group chat. They were having a contest on who looked better shirtless, and they wanted me to join the competition. They said they would automatically let me win if I did it in ... I'm sorry I can't. "Oscar!" I called my older brother into my room. “What's wrong Layla?" He ran into my room out off concern. “I don't want to be here anymore," I choked up. I expected him to hold me in his arms like he always did whenever I had bad thoughts. “Layla," he leaned in towards me. “Not everything is about you." "I'm about to go leave for college and you still can't handle being on your own." "What?" I questioned him. “Get. Over.
Yourself," he emphasized every syllable. “Oscar!" I shouted. “You're the only family I have left." "Well you also get a lot of attention from other people why don't they coddle you?" He sarcastically asked me. I didn't feel anything. I felt the harm I wanted to crush him with, but he was family. I can't hurt family. "AH!" I threw myself onto my bed, and threw a tantrum. “We are not doing this," he finalized. "I WANT DADDY TO COME HOME!" I cried. I flung my arms every which way, same went with my legs. “He's not coming back Layla. I'm sorry, " he apologized lightly. “AHH!" I cried uncontrollably. “GET OUT OF MY ROOM!" I screached. I grabbed the nearest object I could get to, my textbook, and put on little effort to throw it at him. “Ow Layla!" He whinched. The glasses on his face were now just frames with broken glass on them, and a bloody scar that I had caused underneath his eye. “GET OUT!" I warned him once more. “Stop," he sternly said as the blood dripped down to his upper lip. I had, had it. I swung my arms neatly, aiming for his bruised face. My eyes were shut as I did this. I may have been hurting him physically, but that didn't mean I had to have the image burned in my head. I had hit something! Something much more boney, and rough. I opened my eyes to see his fist blocking mine, and his face also closed, but in fear. “I'll say this once more," I spoke. “Get. Out. Of. My. Room." "I love you Layla," he said his final words. “Sure you do," I muttered loud enough so that he could hear. He heard, but he would never admit it. This day would be forever engraved in my mind. The first and only day I had laid a hand on my own. My behavior has changed since the last few years. Someone called me ugly. No one calls me ugly. It's not possible. I beat him up. He said I looked hot beating him up, so in reality there really was no point of me kicking his ass. I wasted my precious time on a boy named Chase. Now all he wants to do is have a good time if you know what I mean, but Chanty said something today that made me think ... do I remember what he did to me? How he did me? How he told me I was the most beautiful girl in the world, yet it doesn't even mean anything anymore. Do I remember him? Yes, Chantel I do. He's burned into my memory, and I can't change that. Kyle is still out there.