Behind The Lens (A Harry Styles FanFic)

Chapter 4: Its hard to get to heaven, when you're falling hell bound.

 *2 years later*

                                           I’m sitting at a long table in a conference room where I got the same excuse for the millionth time.

 “I’m sorry Miss. Cross, but I just don’t think we can use your photos.” Says Mr. Somerfield.  He looks at me with disappointment as he takes in my sulking expression.  This was what I was used to hearing, so I don’t know how it still upsets me.

“But I don’t get it. I mean, these are the photos you said you wanted. Why can’t you use them?” I demand. At least if they weren’t going to use my pictures, I wanted to know why this time. Any other time I would have accepted it and thanked them, then left the room hoping for another miracle, another day. But this time, I wanted information, and I wasn’t leaving until I got it.

“Miss. Cross, I don’t want you to get upset. I did say I wanted these pictures. But, you fail to capture the real emotion in the picture. And-“

“How the hell can you capture emotion in a picture when the pictures are trees!?” I yell, slamming my fist on the table. Mr. Somerfield’s eyes grow wide at my sudden outburst. Then his eyes look understanding as he walks over to me and places a hand on my shoulder. I wince at his touch.

“Skyler, I’ve known you for a long time, yes? I’m sorry, I really am, but I simply can’t use them. I want my pictures to inspire my readers to want to do something when they look at them. Take a hike, go exploring in the woods, that sort of thing. I’m really sorry, but I just can’t. I would if I could, but I can’t. Now, I think it’s time you leave… Maybe next time.” He says, taking his hand off my shoulder and returning back to the chair at the end of the conference table. I nod my head in understanding and grab my portfolio off the table and open the door.

“Have a good day, Mr. Somerfield.” I say before exiting the conference room.

I don’t even care about how cold it is once I get outside. The cold wind rolls down my arms and neck, causing me to shiver, but at this moment a jacket is the last thing on my mind. Thoughts such as; “I’m not good enough. I need to get better. Capture emotion. I’m a failure… I’m a failure…” overtake my mind. This was the 7th company I had visited in a month and I hadn’t booked a single job. No one wanted my pictures, just like how no one wanted me.

As I walk I can feel my eyes stinging, threatening to spill tears over my face. I could handle rejection, but when you never get good news, everything gets harder than it was before when someone tells you no.  As I walk I feel a tear slide down my cheek. I quickly wipe it away, not wanting to make a scene.

As I open the door to my apartment, I slam it shut and throw my portfolio in the trash. Walking into my bedroom, I throw myself onto my bed as I begin to sob. Nothing I ever did was good enough. Nothing good had happened to me in a long time. My whole life was a reck. And it was all my fault. The familiar pain comes back in my chest as I rethink my life. Especially the last 2 years, on a certain night. Just thinking of the memory makes me cry harder. I missed my sister more than anything in the world and I would give up anything for her to be here with me to tell me everything would be okay. But she isn’t, because of me. The last thing I think of before I fall asleep was my dad and I at a daddy daughter dance.

**

“Daddy, look at that girl over there.”

My dad looks over to a girl in a red dress, talking with another girl.

“She is very pretty.” I tell him. He nods his head in agreement and bobs his head to the beat of the music.

“Daddy?” I whisper, he looks down at me and smiles.