Some scars don't heal || m.c

0.7

Songs of the Chapter-

Stand up by One Direction

Look after you by The Fray

You found Me by The Fray

How to Save a Life by The Fray

*TAYLOR'S POV*

Michael Clifford. Is here. And I'd just run straight into him...

My face started growing hot, and I'm sure it was a really attractive post-box red colour by now.

"Are you ok?? You're crying..." Michael pointed out as I stood in front of him.

Lifting my hand to my cheek, I realised he was right; I hadn't stopped crying since I got off the phone with Conner. Think about it just made the tears fall harder, especially as I thought of Tia's betrayal as well.

"Hey hey, it's alright. You're ok now, don't cry. Please. Come here." He opened his arms and I stepped into them, openly sobbing into his chest.

He let my stand there for a minute, before bending down and grabbing my hand. He pulled my gently towards a side door near the stage at the front of the store. As we walked through it, I hurridly tried to wipe the tears off of my face; to no anvil, they just kept coming. Michael noticed and squeezed my hand softly as we reached a small room with sound equiptment all over the floor.

He motions to a seat and I sit, using the oppitunity try and wipe away some of the tears; thank goodness I used waterproof makeup this morning, I guess. Michael turns and shuts the door behind us, and sits down in front of me, facing me, looking concerned. He waits until I've composed myself; as much as I can at least, to speak.

"I'm here if you wanna talk about it. If you don't, then that's cool, but if you do, you can talk to me. Please don't cry." His words, for some reason, sent me over the edge again and I started sobbing as I tried to speak.

I don't know why I decided to trust him, but I did, and I felt like I could actually talk to him about it, as stupid as it may seem. He cared. And I needed that.

"It's silly really, um, I don't really know where to start..." I stammered, blushing under his worried gaze.

"Start wherever you want, I don't mind. And it's not going to be silly, I promise." He reached across and squeezed my hand again, reassuring me.

"Urm, well it's sort of a combination of things, and it kinda just all got too much for me to handle. You see, my dad, erm, well he gets drunk alot, and he's not exactly a passive drunk, and I always seem to get in his way when he needs to hit something, if you get what I mean?" I shocked myself by telling him that; I hadn't intended saying anything about my dad. Oh well, to late to take it back now, I suppose.

"He what?! Are you trying to say he hits you Taylor?!" The words flew out of Michael's mouth, anger clear in his tone.

The tendons in his jaw and neck stood out as he fists clenched. The reaction was unexpected, I never thought he'd care enough to get angry, or even annoyed.

"Um, yeah, I guess I am..." Uncertainty clouded my voice, it felt wrong telling him this, like I was betraying my dad somehow, but at the same time, it felt right to let this come out now.

He clenched his eyes shut and took deep breaths, clearing trying to calm himself down before he spoke.

"That's not acceptable. Under any circumstances. You know that, don't you? That he can't be allowed to get away with hurting you?" Worry seeped through his words, causing a warm, fuzy feeling in my stomach. He did care.

"Yeah, I know. It's just hard to do anything considering it's my fault anyway and he's my dad." I mumbled, embarrassed to admit that I wasn't a good enough daughter for my dad.

"No." Michael's voice was hard, persistant. "It's not your fault. I know he probably tells you that, but it's not true. None of this is your fault. It's his, his fault he gets drunk and hits you, and it's not right. But the one thing it definatly isn't, is your fault."

I looked down at my scruffed Vans on the floor, nodding to agree with him.

"Is there anything else? You can trust me." He said, reassuringly.

"Um, my boyfriend broke up with me..." My face was really red now; embarrassment at not even being able to keep a boyfriend, I was that useless.

"What?! Why?! Any guy would be lucky as shit to have you!" Michael half yelled, sounding like he meant it too.

"I... Um... I don't know." I lied, I wasn't going to tell him about the self-harm, no matter how kind he was. "He found someone else I guess. Someone prettier."

"Someone prettier?!" He asked in disbelief. "Can you get prettier than you?! Is that even possible?!"

I blushed and looked down again; the tears had returned. Michael got up from his seat in front of me and came and sat beside me. He took a look at my face and pulled me into his chest, hugging me sweetly. He rubbed my back as I sobbed once again into his shirt. One though was on my mind; Michael Clifford might just be the nicest person I've ever met.

A/N- SORRY IT'S SHORT AND TOOK AWHILE IVE BEEN LACKING IN INSPIRATION BUT I PROMISE ILL GET BETTER ILY BYEEEE xx