Therapy- One Direction fanfic

Chapter Ten

I woke up and I felt horrible. I was majorly hungover. I had not been able to sleep as every time I did, nightmares about the evening I had had kept replaying in my mind and my whole body was aching. I got up and went straight to the bathroom so brush my teeth. When I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror I could hardly recognise the person looking back. I had two deep purple bruises underneath my eyes presumably from when I hit my head super hard on the wall last night that prevented me from opening my eyes properly, and a swollen cheek from when Steve slapped me. I felt like crying, but I just choked back the tears, and brushed my teeth. Once I had a fresh mouth, I felt a little more human. I slipped on my over sized Nirvana top and my denim shorts as well as a large pair of sunglasses, which not only relieved my eyes from the bright morning sun, but also covered my black eyes. I curled up on the sofa with my phone, looking at old pictures of me and Eleanor. A lump became apparent in my throat and my stomach churned thinking of our memories together. I knew the funeral was soon, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to go. If I went, I'd have to see the coffin, and knowing that my best friend was in that box was too much. It hurt to think she was gone forever. If I went, then it would have to be real, I would have to accept that Eleanor wasn't coming back. I was so deep in thought that I hadn't noticed that Louis had woken up and was in the living room. 

"Hello" He smiled

I smiled back weakly and gave a little wave before looking back at my phone. 

"What's with the sunglasses?" Lou asked stretching out then rested his hands on his beanie covered head. I shrugged in response to Louis' question not looking up from my phone. Before I knew it, Louis was kneeling in front of me, taking off my sunglasses.

"Oh my God, did he do that to you?" He whispered lightly running his fingers over the deep dark purple bruises.

I nodded my head letting out a shaky breath. 

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't there sooner, I really am..." He whispers, lightly stroking my face.

"I wish people would stop apologising for something that was obviously my fault. He new Mr Smith, the teacher that abused me. As soon as I realised that I should've backed off from him and joined you guys instead, but no. I had to be the stupid bitch I am and go outside with him. It's my fault for talking to him, it was my fault because of the way I dressed, it was just. My. Fault. So I would very much appreciate it if everyone stop apologising. It is completely unnecessary and annoying." I snapped aggravated, I knew that rape is never the girls fault, or their outfit choice, but my case was different. I knew he would be bad news if he new Mr Smith, I new I should've told him to stuff it there and then, but I didn't, therefore it was my fault. Plain and simple.

"How could you even begin think this was your fault? So what if he knew you or your teacher or if you were looking absolutely gorgeous? That doesn't mean he can make you do the things you did, he is the only one to blame for this, for not being able to control his urges. How dare you blame yourself, Amelia, it was all his fault and you know it." Louis responded, raising his voice.

"Well you obviously don't understand do you? Put yourself in my shoes. You never knew your mother, as she died shortly after you were born, but what you did know about her wasn't good. She was a heroin addict, and your father killed himself a short time after that after struggling with major depression. He hung himself in the room across from your cot. You now have to live in a care home with other children, who even though they were in similar situations to yourself they always seemed to stay distant from you and for some reason judge you. You then, as a result, recline into a shell, so nobody wants to adopt or foster you. Despite your early struggles you seem to cope in school, excelling in the subjects of Art, Performing Arts, Maths, Sciences and History and had a promising future ahead of you, you gain self esteem and confidence, mixing with other students, and form your own friendship group with people with similar personality traits and interests as you and you felt your anxiety, that you had all of your conscious life, melt away. That's when a new student teacher came to the school called Mr Smith. He was tall dark and handsome, after a couple of months training, he was offered a job at the school, which he accepted, he had become a permanent teacher. Your teacher. All of the girls fancied him, including you, and made petty attempts to flirt with him, but for some reason, he took a fancy to you. You were still just an innocent teenager who just kept her head down and got through her work, and didn't really notice, until one time while the class were watching 'The Pianist' learning about the holocaust, and having already seen this, you decide to stare at Mr Smith and his beauty, until you notice that he is now staring right back at you. You smile and blush looking down at your desk, before looking back up at him to see him wink at you. You blushed even more. After class, he asked if you could have a word with him. When the class had left, he asked you why you wan't paying attention to the film, you revealed that you had already watched it and how interested you were about the holocaust and he invited you out for dinner to discuss it more. you were flattered. You accept. You both go to Pizza Express and talk about history and most interesting time periods and so forth, he then takes you back to his flat where he takes your virginity. You knew it was wrong, but he had flattered you into it, you didn't really want to but, you did anyway or he would've made you feel frigid. He pinned you down on the bed, lifted your dress up, pulled off your underwear and forced himself into you. He thrusts fast and hard and you can feel tears threatening to spill from your eyes, and you're told to stop being a baby and gives you a slap across your face. he then pulled out of your front entrance and flips you over so  that you're lying on your front, arms pinned behind your back, your face being forced into his bed and you find it hard to breathe. He then spits on you repeatedly and slides himself into your ass and you scream into the bed sheets but he carries on regardless. He carried this on for what seemed excruciatingly long and then pulls out, turns you around, forces you to kneel in front of him and then ejaculates on your face. he then leaves the room making you feel dirty, but you being the naive teen you are believes he loves you and keep going back to him, not telling a soul about what happened." I confess raising my voice now, I saw Louis' face grimace when confessing about the first time we had sex. I decided to carry on: