"Don't wipe your eyes, tears remind you you're alive."
-Ed Sheeran {Even My Dad Does Sometimes}
OLIVIA'S POV
Lyla and I are sat on the floor of our old house, the dust was making my nose itch, I sneeze, earning a shout from my father.
"Shut up, you piece of shit!" He barks from the sofa, where he is sprawled, taking another swig from a beer bottle.
I cringe as I huddle closer to Lyla, although the names don't hurt quite as much as the pounds from his fists, they still make me feel discouraged.
Our mother is at work, usually we were just left alone in the small one-room living quarter, but today our father had joined us.
I notice a deep-purple bruise on Lyla's forearm, I point to it, mentally asking her if it was hurting, she must've gotten it recently.
She shrugs, knowing exactly what I was implying, the unspoken conversations between us could last for hours, we are that close.
After what seems like hours, Dad finally lifts himself off the couch, he makes his way over to Lyla and I. I can hear his heavy breathing and I know what is coming.
He drags his boots across the floor, stopping in front of us, he grabs the back of my shirt, lifting me up slowly, I squeeze my eyes shut.
"Olivia!" Lyla cries, trying her best to loosen Dad's grip on me. "Dad! Stop! Please!?"
I open my eyes to see him raise his foot, kicking her to the filthy floor. I see tears falling down her face, and I know my face mirrored hers. No matter what the situation was, my face mirrored hers. Her happiness always affected my own, as did mine to hers. This is why we sometimes hide our feelings from each other, we know the other won't be able to enjoy themselves if we were hurting.
He then turns his attention to me, I can hear Lyla's quiet sobs from where she sat in the corner, her head in her hands. He lets out a growl as he tosses me onto the ground, nearly on top of Lyla. I cry out as I make impact with the floor, although I feel no pain.
We lay there, not wanting to move since he will probably explode in a fury of anger, don't ask me why, it happens a lot.
I listen to his footsteps recede and the opening of the front door. I sigh in relief, realizing that probably means he's gone for the rest of the night.
"It happened again..." Lyla whispers, not looking at me, she's still curled into a tight ball.
I nod, a bitter look on my face, sitting up and putting my back against the wall.
We never really had much to say after this happened, which was often, mostly we just stayed quiet.
'What did we do to deserve this? Why is it like this?' These thoughts swirled around in my head as I began to feel tired, my eyelids began to feel heavy and, ultimately, sleep took over.
✩✩✩✩✩
I open my eyes, still quite sleepy. I glance around and reassurance comes over me. It was only a dream...no. A nightmare. No, a memory, a bad one at that, but I am home.
My real home, with Lyla and the guys.
Speaking of Lyla, she is currently snoring next to me. It is light outside, so I decide to drag myself out of bed, but not before shaking Lyla, waking her up.
As I'm shaking her, I see her bright-blue eyes flutter open and her scowling, sleepy face.
"Do you want a fist connected to your face?" She threatens groggily.
YOU ARE READING
And Then There Were Seven «1D»
Fanfiction"I bet you weren't expecting any of this when you picked two little girls up off the streets," I say dryly, remembering the first time I met them. "You're probably right," Zayn speaks from in between us, "but we also didn't expect to love those two...
