What Was Lost // (Harry Styles FanFic)

Chapter 2

Lilly's POV

    I wake up with a pounding head and a woozy stomach. I drank way too much at that party last night. How I even got home I'm not sure, and I don't try to remember. I sit up in my bed and cringe at the bright light coming through my window. Another night spent wasted that I have no recollection of. But that's the whole point of drinking until you can't stand.

That's what I'm aiming for.

    I get up and go into the bathroom, and when I look at myself in the mirror, I cringe. My hair looks like I had it hung out of a car window, my make up around my eyes is smeared, and I have a quarter size hickey in the center of my neck where everyone can see it. Thank you for that Denny. Not that I even remember us doing anything, but I know he has to be the only one I did anything with.

    I brush my teeth and jump in the shower to wash away as much evidence from last night as I can. I dry myself off, get dressed in my works clothes for my shift that starts in an hour, apply some make up to my face so I don't look like a zombie, and a little on my neck to try and cover that god awful hickey. I head downstairs to face the wrath of my parents. They'll yell and scream like they actually care about what I do, but we all know they don't. Everything is for show.

    When I walk into the kitchen, my mom is at the kitchen counter making my dad some lunch, and he's sitting at the table looking over some paperwork with a cup of coffee. My mom looks at me and disappointment washes over her face like it always does. She looks away and continues what she was doing. I guess at least she didn't yell at me. I walk all the way into the kitchen and get everything I need for a bowl of cereal, and sit across from my dad. Im not even done making the bowl before he opens his mouth to throw insults at me.

    "Ahhh, well look who finally decided to join us on this lovely Saturday. Sleep good princess?" He asks in a condescending tone. The words could come from another dad and sound sweet or like good natured joking, but from mine they're anything but that. I bite my tongue and don't reply, it's only ever worse if I do.

    But of course he doesn't stop. "I'm sure you did sleep good, seeing as how you were passed out while you were being carried in by your boyfriend. That's also a nice spot on your neck. Tell me, do you like looking like a slut to everyone in this town? Do you like embarrassing your mother and I?" His words hurt but I don't let it show. I'm too used to his mistreatment to ever let him see it gets to me. I just keep shoveling cereal into my mouth.

     "What, nothing to say? No lies to try and defend yourself with?" He says to me. I just keep ignoring him and finally he snaps. He reaches across the table, grabs my bowl of cereal and throws it against the wall, scattering glass, milk, and cereal all over the floor, wall, and myself. I sit there with the spoon still in my hand, my heart pounding so fast and hard I can hear it in my ears, feel it below my skin. "Answer me!" He screams at me.

     "So is that some alcohol you have in that coffee mug Dad? Because when you drink, it makes you an even bigger asshole than usual." I may be scared, but I'm not a lap dog who just tucks his tail between his legs. Although, sometimes I probably should. Because talking back only makes it worse for myself in the long run.

     He reaches across the table and smacks me across the face with the back of his hand. My head whips to the side and I taste metallic in my mouth almost instantly. I continue to have my head turned to the side and see my mother looking at us with terror in her eyes. She doesn't agree with the way he treats me, but she'll never say that to him.

      "Paul, I thought we agreed, no more hitting her. You know if people saw that.." she trails off because she doesn't want to make him mad. I stare at her in disbelief and then spit the blood that's pooled in my mouth on to the nice cleaned floor.