leather journal / h.s

33

this is it the best part PLEASE inline comment please please please don't be ghost readers

M A R Y

there comes a time where you start to doubt the things that your oh-so-wise parents had taught you growing up. like, for example, if your parents taught you to hate immigrants, and you grow up to realize immigrants are the kindest and most hard working people you'll ever meet-- you start to realize that maybe your parents aren't that wise after all. and they're not right all the time, either.

this is how it was for me, sitting across from harry at this trashy music festival, watching him eat in awe. his eyes glistened, he seemed oh-so interested in his taco, and his head tilted at a strange angle to get a good bite.

growing up, my parents taught me that lying and stealing was a ticket to heaven. lies made people believe things they wanted to, and it made them happy. stealing taught people to keep things they love near and dear to them. that's what i was told, anyway.

but it had taken 17 sad years to learn my lesson-- that all of what they had said was a lie in itself. my whole childhood had been one of their lies.

my parents just loved to lie for the hell of it. they had no reason to. and one of their many lies had been telling jett, lilac, and i that lying was what made the world go round. and all of us but one believed it. and that's why lilac hated me, because i did and she didn't.

i had fallen prey to my parents. and i had to fix it.

i was going to tell harry the complete, honest,

truth.

"mary, are you okay?" harry asked once he finished his taco. he moved on to drinking his lemonade.

my hands were sweating. i was so scared, because i didn't know how to tell him and if he was going to walk away if he knew the truth. "uh- yeah." i stammered. "but there's something i need to tell you."

he put down his drink at once and laced our hands together. "what is it, mary?" he asked, and i could tell he was hopeful that it would be something else.

i jerked my hands away in one quick motion, and harry looked hurt in an instant. that hurt me, too. "you're not going to want to hold my hand after i tell you this." i warned, and he just looked at me sideways.

he rubbed his hands together, even though it wasn't cold. "whenever you're ready." he said with a frown. only then did i notice his one direction t-shirt, with his own face plastered somewhere on it.

he was so genuine, and i was about to lose him.

i took a deep breath and closed my eyes. "ever since i was little, my parents had taught me that lying and stealing was good." i sighed. "and i dumbly believed it because well, they were my parents. who was i not to go with it?"

i opened my eyes and harrys arm was extended. "mary..." he started. "you're shaking. you don't have to say this if you don't want."

"no." i mumbled. "i have to say this."

he nodded and signaled for me to go on. my heart was beating relentlessly against my ribcage and i feared it was going to explode. i could feel my whole body shaking out of anxiety and tears threatened to spill out of my eyes.

"so one day, a few weeks ago, i saw a journal on the ground." i sobbed. "and i picked it up. i saw it belonged to harry styles, but i didn't care. i kept it. and then you came. you bought us drinks, asked for our numbers. i was too scared to give it back then because you'd never talk to us again and i didn't want penny to lose you because of me.