Half a Heart (Louis Tomlinson)

Chapter 1: Cruella Deville

"That's my baby girl," Daddy said, grinning from ear to ear.

He wrapped his sturdy arms around my shoulders and pulled me in for a bear hug.

I could smell his strong cologne and feel his bristly, unshaven cheek against mine.

"I am so proud of you Val," he whispered.

"I love you, Dad," I whispered back.

"Love you too princess."

He pulled back and I could see the happiness etched in his eyes.

"And I always will."

I continue flipping through my messily put together scrapbook.

These pictures bring back beautiful, but painful memories.

 The picture of my dad and I standing side by side in front of the Washington Monument. The one at my high school graduation, where he handed me a bouquet of colorful roses and the key to my very first car.

The one at my sister's wedding, where the whole family stood together, smiling and laughing.

That was before though.

No one ever smiles around here these days. 

"Valerie!"

I hear my mom's muffled voice call my name from downstairs. 

I quickly scramble to put away the albums. I look into the mirror and straighten out my light pink skater skirt, ridding it of creases.

I walk down the stairs and into our spacious living room. My mother is seated on the leather loveseat, looking through a bundle of papers.

Rodrigues, one of our servants, is massaging her feet, looking sullen.

"Good morning, mother," I say quietly.

"Valerie, please speak up. You know I hate it when you mumble," she says sternly.

"Good morning," I say slightly louder.

"Yes, good morning dear," she replied, her eyes fixed on the files.

"You called for me?"

"Ah, yes. I wanted to talk to you about something very important," she says, signaling for me to take a seat beside her.

I approach the couch and sit down, keeping my eyes glued to my black flats.

"I wanted to inform you that we will be having guests this evening," she starts, blatantly.

"Okay," I continue, unsure of what to say.

"The Tomlinsons will arrive sharp at six o'clock, and I would like you to be here to greet them."

Wait, what? Oh hell no.

"THE TOMLINSONS?!"

"Yes--"

"MOM YOU CAN'T INVITE THEM HERE!"

"Valerie, they are in town--"

"MOM PLEASE," I literally beg.

"Young lady, lower your voice!" she screams. 

The atmosphere is silent for a few seconds, and she sits up straighter. 

"Valerie, they are our guests whether you like it or not. And you are going to be here with me to make them feel welcome, and that's that," she says, slightly clenching her teeth.

"I'm sorry for yelling," I say, looking down.

She studies my face for a minute. "Apology accepted."

"Cruella Deville" I thought to myself.

"Now, Johannah and Mark are friends of ours, and we will treat them and their family with respect," she continues.

"Yes, mam."

"And Louis has just returned from his tour of Europe. You remember him, do you not? Lovely boy," she says, admiring her nails.

"Yes," I say, looking away.

"Splendid. They'll be staying for a week."

My jaw literally drops to the floor, and my stomach churns at her words.

One week? Oh god no.

"I'm glad we've understood eachother," she says, waving me away.

I get up and start walking back upstairs. Do I even have any say of what goes on in this house? Oh, right. Of course I don't. 

I entered my room, feeling faint. Collapsing on the king-sized bed, I stared at the intricate pattern on the ceiling chandelier. 

"Miss Matthews, shall I draw you a bath?" Margeret, another one of our servants, asks, sashaying into my room with a mountain of neatly folded towels in her hands.

I nodded slowly, lost in my thoughts.

The same name that thousands of teenage girls swooned over, made my heart clench.

Louis Tomlinson.