"You said, no you sang, you sang that everything was gonna be alright. You said that we'll be alright, Harry. But did you mean that?"
Where Belle Olivia Granger encounters five young boys who happen to be in the biggest boyband on the planet, and sh...
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I stare at my reflection in the vanity mirror, something I have refused to do for far too long in fear that I would actually crumble beneath the gaze of my own somber eyes. Whether it was a purple ombre and swollen bags from the nightmares that would keep me awake at night of angry blue eyes and violent fists, sunken in cheeks from weeks of nausea at the hands of a cruel world who tried everything they could to pry into my life, or frown lines from trying but failing to cope with the death of my mother I never saw coming, I could never stare at my reflection for too long without being reminded of the truth of my sad existence.
Just when I would forget that my five best friends weren't each other's best friends anymore, that Harry and I were no longer together, or that I wasn't secretly miserable with the life I left Harry to find, a subtle glimpse of my dull eyes in the mirror would be enough to remind me.
I've been staring at myself for God knows how long, simply waiting for my reflection to warp back to what I know so well, but it never does.
My eyes have always been my favorite part of myself, because they are the one distinct feature I didn't get from my father. Our hair is the exact same shade of dark chocolate, facial features a perfect blend of Charles and Jane, and for the majority of my life I believed that our personalities were the same too. Like father like daughter.
But I always took pride that I got my eye color from Jane. Sure, I have always been massively jealous of how her's used to glow a brilliant gold even in the darkest of settings, but I still loved the drab color of mine nonetheless.
For far too long, the hardships I've found myself trapped in and even brought upon myself have made me hate the one thing I used to love so much.
Now, as I stare at myself in the vanity mirror, soft velvet plush of the chair I sit in pressing against my legs and brightly lit bedroom behind me, the smell of sea salt drifting into my nose from the open balcony doors, I finally find myself loving my eyes again.
In fact, I can see why Harry would even think to call me his golden girl, because before, I never understood how he could find such a divine rarity in the average color of my eyes.
Maybe it's the fact that I have my green eyed boy by my side again with no plans of ever letting each other go, maybe it's the little girl who I feel kicking around in my stomach every time her father sings to her, or maybe it's the fact that I have embraced everything that has happened to me as small bumps in the road that have made me into the person I am- the person that a younger version of myself never thought she could reach, but I can now smile and watch as the joy actually reaches my eyes.
Dark hair which shines with red velvet hues thanks to the evening sun hitting it through the windows billows out around my head in smooth curls that feel soft to the touch when I run my pale pink nails through the strands. The scent of freshly picked gardenias wafts up my nose at the motion thanks to the shampoo I used, another hint of the floral fragrance glued to the skin of my neck and wrists from the perfume I sprayed on.
