My Teacher, Louis Tomlinson

Chapter 3- False assumptions

Skye’s POV

After that horrific incident of terror, I ended up having to walk home because I missed my bus.

Home was not good.

So I’m minding my own business in my room, studying the lyrics for a solo I’m gonna do this weekend at some Mexican restaurant (as a job. Yeah, I sing and play the guitar to make some money to buy what I want/need) when I hear screaming and yelling from downstairs.

My first thought was that damn, he’s finally gonna kill her instead of just making empty threats about it, so I sprinted down the stairs armed with my wooden baseball bat that I’ve kept hidden so he can’t use it on me.

It turns out my mom was the one with the knife, and he was obviously drunk (again) and they were obviously fighting.

At my arrival, my mom dropped the knife (why, I have no idea) and my dad picked it up. Well shit.

He came over to me and asked why I had the bat and where I got it. I didn’t speak. That caused him to groan/growl loudly before swinging his fist at me (unarmed) and missing. I tried to make a break for it, but he grabbed my arm and yanked me back towards him. He grabbed me with the knife hand, and the knife unintentionally slit some of my forearm. Not deep, though.

“Give me the bat, you ungrateful girl.” I looked at my mom for help.

“Give him the bat and apologize.” She said.

Apologize? For WHAT? I wanted to cry so bad. My mom had never gone against me before. Who is she? Certainly not my mother. But sadly she is. I reluctantly handed over my only weapon.

“You’re nothing but a selfish, ugly, fat, worthless whore.” He told me.

The words hurt. With tears in my eyes, I ran upstairs and pulled out my razor. To feel in control and punish myself for being so unlovable (I mean, what did I do to deserve all of this?) I opened up twelve new cuts on my left arm and four on my right. I cut eight more a little while later because I could and I still felt worthless, and to be more symmetrical (crazy, right?).

I heard a knock on my door. I started shaking. What if it was Dad? Was he here to rape me again?

“Sweetie, it’s me.” My mother spoke softly.

I let her in hesitantly. She had just sided with my dad. I couldn’t trust her.

She handed me a piece of paper from the school. A Week of Soccer Builds a Lifetime of Friendships. Weird title. I skimmed the paper.

“Your father and I thought that this could help you make friends. Your teachers have always said you have trouble with that.”

“But Mom, I don’t even play.” I sighed. I used to.

“You used to be the best in the business! Just do it. We’ll be at the games.” She said, and with that, she left.

No “goodnight”.

No “I love you”.

Nothing.

Louis’ POV

First thing the next day I told the office of my suspicions about Skylynn’s self-destructive behavior and history of abuse. I didn’t mention bullying, though, even though I could pretty much confirm that one by the name on that cup.

The woman I talked to directed me to a counselor, who didn’t seem to care too much about my concerns. She said she’d talk to Skylynn, though, so at least Skylynn is getting help. I can only tell myself that I am doing the right thing here.