Deranged [n.h]

Chapter Two

The car ride home was a nightmare. Neither of us dared to speak, or even make eye contact. Completely silent.

As we stopped at a red light, I knew that this should be my chance to talk and figure out something that happened.

"I know I have something wrong with me." I blankly stated.

"What? No. You're perfectly normal." He leaned his head on this window gazing out into the street.

"No, I'm not and you know that too." I turned towards him now. "There's something wrong and I deserve to know."

"Damn it Margaret! You're fine!" He began to raise his voice.

"You're just making all this up." I mumbled.

"Excuse me?"

"I said your making all this up. And you know why dad? Because you didn't get your dream child. You're perfect strait A, popular, cheer squad captain, prom queen you always thrived for. And you know what? I got a news flash for you. It's never going to happen."

With the last bit of my words, I felt a hard pang in the side of my cheek. I clenched it with pain as my eyes flashed him with fear.

Without thought, I unbuckled my seat belt and darted out of the car.

"Margaret! Get back here!" I thought I heard him yell.

I began running - God knows where - until I finally came to a place where I could stop and relax. The Portland town park came into view, and I took a seat on one of the empty park benches.

No one seemed to be here today, which was quite pleasant. That meant I was free to let out all anger and sadness I had trapped inside for so long, without any disruptions.

The first thing I recall doing was completely tearing off my orange band on my wrist that they gave to me every time I came to my therapy classes. I felt disgusted to wear it, they labeled me as some type of sick child when only I felt like I was losing my fucking mind.

It's funny to think that things were never this way. My dad didn't randomly bash out at me, I never felt like I wanted to jump in front of a car, and I never felt so lonely.

I miss her so much. Things could be so different. Why does it feel like it's my fault that she's gone?

I know I couldn't have done anything to save her. I am aware of that, but I just can't help but wish it was me and not her.

My tears began to fill down the side of my tender cheek that had still been red from my fathers unexcused actions. The dam that I had been building up inside has finally collapsed. And all my regret and aching came flooding out.

I probably looked psychotic like this, sitting here in public whining like a baby. I hope no one would see me.

The tears and pants came to a close - after what seemed like hours - but I knew that that wouldn't be enough. I would still need to break down again one day.

I decided that it was getting late and that I should start heading home. My house wasn't too far from here, I used to come here a lot with her.

No. I can't let my mind wander to more thoughts about her. I can't.

On the walk home I decided to think about something else, like school work and stuff like that. School work is probably the only other thing I think about besides her. Well, actually lets put it this way. It's the only other thing I have that I can think about besides her.

As the night grew dimmer, I grew much more colder. I had began to regret jumping out of the car like that, but what else could I have done? Sit there, await an apology that would never come? No.

I turned a corner and I could see my neighbor hood in the distance. It was about a 3 mile walk from the park to home.

I decided to check my phone to see if my dad had called or texted. And, what a shock. He had called once which showed the sign of 'some care' in our family.

As I kept walking and looking down at my phone, I completely forgot where I was, walking on the streets of Portland Oregon, which was filled with people day and night.

So, to my luck I completely run into someone and stumble onto the ground.

"Oh, are you alright?" A voice sounding like a man asked. He started wide eyed at me, with an emotion I couldn't read.

I looked up to see a tall figure draped in jeans and a hoody. He had crystal blue eyes - which even sparkled in the night - blonde brown hair, and a adorable dimple upon his chin.

His voice was something I never heard before... I want to say it was Scottish? Or Irish, im not quite sure.

"Love?" He asked again.

I blinked out of my state of awe and answered his question.

"Yeah, I'm, uh fine." I took his hand as an offer to get up off the ground.

"I'm so sorry, I guess I didn't see where I was going." He said, pulling the hoody over his head.

"No, it's alright. It was partially my fault anyways."

We stood awkwardly, with me silently debating if I should just go. But I didn't want to go. I didn't really want to leave. I wanted to linger in his gaze more, and feel the warmth of his presence.

All the way up to age 18, I can safely say that I have never had a boyfriend. Or someone who chased after me. And I couldn't blame them. My looks weren't too great. My appearance was mostly normal, grey eyes, light dimples, sandy hair that fell a little below my shoulders. You could say I was average.

"Well, I better go." I finally said.

"Oh," he seemed distraught. "Okay."

"I'm, Margret, by the way."

"Niall. Niall Horan."