Scars Don't Heal, They Fade - A 1D Fanfiction

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

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"Sydney!" Dad's voice, filled with happiness, called to me as I strided into my new home.

The layout was large and open, and the walls were made of bricks painted the color of fresh cream. The floor was a light wood, polished smooth and shiny. I was sure that I could probably see my reflection in it. A massive iron spiral staircase swirled up the right side of the room, then there was a TV set on the opposite side of the room. A bare teak coffeetable and chic mint colored sofa set was placed around the huge TV. Beside the main entrance was a wooden coatrack, but otherwise the whole space was quite minimalist. Maybe a bit cool, but this was now home. I was sure I would get used to it in no time. It was still more welcoming than the house I lived in for the past sixteen years of my life. At least this place didn't hold such dark memories. Here, I was free to live without fear.

Dad looked like he hadn't aged a bit since I last saw him. He looked exactly how I remembered him that fateful day, when it was him leaving for London. The day when he was making his escape.

His hair was still all dark brown and smooth, not a streak of grey, and he looked as built as he was before. Even though we were in rainy London, he still managed to have a tan. He was wearing a loose black t-shirt and jeans with no shoes or socks, a typical dad outift. What was different was the brilliant smile on his lips, and the excited twinkle in his eyes, something I haven't seen for years.

I wasn't two steps inside the door when I was swept into a giant hug. I held back tears as I felt Dad's reassuring arms comfort me. I was in London, without Mom. Dad would protect me, he would never let me go down the tubes like I did before. He cared too much to ever let that happen. He loved me. I was finally safe.

When he finally broke away, he sniffed back a few tears of his own. I had only ever see Dad cry once, and that's when the judge ruled Mom had custody over me for two years. He had a reason to cry then.

"You don't know how happy I am to finally have you here" he said, smiling so wide I expected his lips to crack.

"You don't know how glad I am to be here either" I said genuinely. I felt like a kid in a Disney story, one who's dream was coming true. I was in the city of my dreams, away from my wicked witch of a mother. I had an adorable neighbor, and everything was going smoothly. Life couldn't be any better.

"Look at my little girl, all grown up. She's no longer a little girl, she's a young woman" he said. I didn't know if his tone indicated sadness, or maybe pride.

I was wondering what Dad was thinking of me, I mean I have grown up in the two years since I last saw him. My hair was longer, I was taller. I wore different clothes, listened to different music, and really was a different person. I was sixteen now, and I have seen things, done things, that no sixteen year old should. I just hoped he would be okay with that. Dad knew he was leaving me in the wrong hands when he left, but he didn't have any choice. His company gave him an ultimatum; either work for our firm in London, or don't work for us at all. He couldn't refuse, because he loved his job and he was way too well paid to leave it. He made the understandable choice. He just had planned on taking all of us at the same time.

The day he left, he promised he would come for me, that when I was 16 I would finally join him. I wasn't told that I wouldn't have any contact with him during the meantime. I hadn't been told there would be no letters, no emails, nothing inbetween to show he cared about me. There were no christmas cards or birthday presents, not a single word passed between us. While I was ecstatic to be here, part of me was wondering...if he cared so much for me, where was he the last two years when I needed him?

I pushed these thoughts to the back of my mind as Dad led me through the house. Parts of it looked more like a museum than a house. It was weird, because it seemed so much more modern than what I thought it would be like. I had expected leather everything, a roaring fire, typical man-cave style. Instead, everything was light, bright, and airy. Even the light fixtures looked modern. I was deeply impressed; who would have ever thought my father had style?