"You're so beautiful" he whispered brushing the stray hairs from my face while his deep brown eyes poured into my soul luring me in, unable to escape.
I sigh shaking my head pulling away "In this world, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, the only...
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They say that trauma makes you stronger,
False.
I did.
I made myself stronger,
Better,
Brighter, kinder.
It seems selfish to credit those who have wronged me,
Those who have abused me,
Taken me apart like a useless puzzle.
I did it,
I made myself stronger.
The first time I had ever gone to speak to a therapist was in the middle of a snowstorm, on a Thursday morning in March of 2018, it was snowing so badly my mother wasn't sure she would be able to drive in it. But after one look at my face, she knew she had to get me there, she knew I was finally ready to talk. After a 40-minute drive on the icy roads we had finally arrived, and she waited in the car for 2 hours while I spoke to the therapist.
When my dad lived with us, me and mother never saw eye to eye, we could never hold a conversation longer than five minutes without it turning into a fight. But after that day we became closer than ever, I realised that no matter what happened and how much we fought, she always wanted what was best for me and was always there to catch me when I fell.
As soon as she found out what Chris had been doing to me, she did everything in her power to protect me, even if I had not thought of it like that then, I did now. She continued to drive me to therapy every Thursday come rain, snow or wind, not even an earthquake seemed to stop her from getting me there.
Once she told my father what had been happening, she gave him two options: stay and help your daughter or leave. Not wanting their constant arguments to disrupt my healing. Any good father would have picked the first option in a heartbeat, but not mine. He never came back home after that day and throughout the years we lost contact.
And from then forward I swore to myself I would never believe in love, as that little girl from before was nowhere to be found.
The time I had spent carefully crafting layers of ice around my heart, ceasing fire from piercing it as it attempted to burn me from the inside out. The cold ran through my veins, freezing them, and it seeped through my skin, casting chills at whoever stepped in my way.
I snap out of my thoughts as the school bell finally rings, interrupting my teacher from her extremely boring lecture about the significance of the green light in "The Great Gatsby". Sighing as I grab my books and make my way out to the crowed hallway to see Stella already waiting outside for me on her phone.
