LA to London (Liam Payne fan fiction)

Chapter 9:Ella POV

Hi all! I think this is a rather quick update and its quite long :) Enjoy and please vote comment and share!

“Fine, I’ll talk about my mum and you’ll understand.” What am I doing? How do I even talk about it? The only person I have ever told is Cassie, but it wasn’t like this, not just blurting it all out. Why do I feel comfortable enough to tell him? Oh shit, he’s waiting.

“My mum, Jeanine, she always wanted to be a mum, or that’s what she told me. As soon as she was definitely pregnant, she quit her job. When people asked why, she just said that her job could never make her as happy as her child would. She never wanted a nanny or anything, she wanted to raise me. Everything was great when I was born. My mum was always with me, keeping me entertained. She never even dropped me on my head like most mums.” I pause as I chuckle at the story I was told when my dad dropped me once and my mum took me to the hospital. No, I’m not going to cry, no matter how much I miss her.

“She cared about me so much. My first day of school was hard for her. She had invested the last five years of her life into me and I wasn’t there for her to make her happy anymore.” Liam hasn’t said a word so far, but his stare is all the comforting I need. I take a deep breath, look up to the sky, blink a few times, close my eyes and lower my head. Before I open my eyes I feel Liam rubbing his hand up and down my arm. It feels as if I am a frozen body who didn’t understand warmth until Liam’s hand was against my skin, a fire warming me up. It takes everything I have not to cry when I open my eyes. 

“My dad was still around, but with my mum not working he had to work late most nights and go away a lot to make enough money. My mum tried to cover up how empty she was feeling in front of my dad and me. It worked, I was so oblivious to my mum’s pain. However about three years later, during my first year of school, my mum found something to help with the pain. My mum used to have a glass of wine at the occasional dinner party, but that soon turned into a glass of wine at every meal. It progressed from there and soon enough you can imagine where she was.”

I have to take a break, the images flashing in my mind are too much. My mother slumped against the wall, slurring to herself, a bottle of vodka in her hand. Completely shut off from the world and me. These images visit me a lot, so it doesn’t sting too much, but it will always hurt.

“My dad thought she only drank late at night when he was home and I was asleep, he thought I was protected from it all so he didn’t take drastic measures to stop her. He obviously tried to help, he hid the alcohol, tried to get her help, even staged an intervention. She drunkenly rampaged through all of his ideas.” I could end here. He doesn’t have to know what came next. But he knows there’s more, I can see on his face he knows. I can’t cry, I must not cry.

“On the 19th of December in 2000, my dad had come home earlier, because he was almost done with his last case before Christmas. My mother was already drunk and while I normally spent this time in my room, I knew she wasn’t cooking dinner for me tonight and without the knowledge that my dad was coming and I was hungry, so I went into the kitchen where she was as quietly as possible. However she saw me. She turned to me and behind her drunken glassy eyes was a red-hot rage. She started yelling at me, telling me it was my fault that she was like this. If I were never born she would still be at work and still be happy. I was six and being told by my own mum that the reason she drinks herself numb is because I was born. I was six.” I didn’t realise I was crying until Liam wiped one of my tears away with his thumb.

“My dad came home when she was in the middle of yelling at me with her stupid bottle in her hand. He came and took me away and sat with me in my room. We talked through everything and it actually did help, he helped me realise she didn’t mean what she was saying and how it wasn’t true. I still sucks though, it still hurts. The next day, on the 20th of December 2000, my mum was sent off to rehab and I haven’t seen her since. That Christmas was the most painful one. My dad was just moping around, missing his love.”