The Other One {Harry Styles AU}

37. Then

I was finally free. Independent. The free and independent state of Madelyn Turner. So said the family court of Los Angeles County.

Emancipated.

The trial process had taken almost six months. My mom fought it, obviously. But I don't know why she bothered. She had never behaved much like a mother to me.

And boy, did the media have a field day with all of that testimony. How I was drunk for six months, and she didn't even notice. At any point. How she agreed for me to do a graphic scene in a film without asking me. For the money. (I backed out of that immediately. And by the way, where did her fucking church morals go in that moment?). How my money was disappearing from my fucking accounts. Into hers.

Like, you couldn't just ask? It was bad enough that I was supporting her. And my dad. My fucking worthless father and my cold, pushy stage mother both still took a percentage of all my income. But to embezzle on top of that. To steal from your own kid. That was the last straw for me. I had taken her insults, her lack of affection, her pushing and demanding. But this, I would not take.

I was fifteen when I first filed the petition, just barely sober, sixteen by the time it was granted. And in between, my trust purchased a sprawling home in the Westwood hills. It was huge. And empty. I had no furniture the day I moved in, just my suitcases full of clothes and boxes full of books.

I sat on the floor of the empty living room, looking out at the pool and patio in the backyard, eating a sandwich from the delicious deli down the hill. And I felt free.

And alone. So utterly alone.

I hugged my knees and cried until I fell asleep on the floor.