Brooklyn Baby - H.S

Part Thirty Four

Warnings// talks of self-harm, death, abuse, trichotillomania and mental health.

I open my eyes to the sun blinding me through my window, my head's banging from all the crying from the night before, I stroke my forehead with my hand groaning at the headache.

I close my eyes again and start to think ab out what happened yesterday, Ava, remembering what happened with my dad and Harry coming to help me, in that moment I then realise I can't feel the warmth of Harry behind me, I roll over to see if he's there, but he's gone, a sudden panic overtakes me as I look around the room to see if he's anywhere in here, out on the balcony but he's nowhere to be seen.

Until I hear a loud bang coming from the front door of someone trying to get in by the sounds of things, my eyes widen at the noise until I hear his voice "shit!" he shouts whispers, I chuckle as I hear the door close again.

I push myself off my bed still in my clothes from yesterday, I look down at the hoodie I'm wearing, which is still covered in Ava's blood, I gulp at the memory trying to not let it get to me today like my full-blown mental breakdown last night.

I take the hoodie off throwing it into my washing basket before grabbing another hoodie from the back of my door, I slide the hoodie onto my body and open the door quietly hearing Harry talking to himself from the kitchen, I walk out my room looking at the bathroom remembering the state I was in when Harry found me, I shake my head at myself feeling embarrassed that he saw me like that.

I mean I completely understand if he doesn't want to deal with me again, dealing with someone with bad mental health to some people can be a lot, in reality I know how it feels, my dad was dealing with a lot when my mother died.

He didn't really know what do with himself, he would spend days on days in bed just crying, I could hear him a lot of the time, he wouldn't let me help him though I was so young at the time and just wanted my daddy back, that's when I started getting into music at school.

My music teacher kind of took me in when he found out my mother died, I think he knew something was happening with my dad, so he took it upon himself to help me out and get me into all kinds of music, at that point I saw him as a father figure.

I was only 5 at the time and felt like I had lost both my parents, my teacher would drive me to and from school, my father hated it, my father would ring up the school multiple times and complain about my teacher but, nothing was done because they knew that he was doing it out of spite because he was jealous.

After about 3 months he turned to drinking alcohol, which is when he started verbally abusing me, I think he may at this point he should have gone to the doctors to get help, I was too young to understand that there was something much deeper and when I was old enough to understand it was too late.

Maybe if I could have done something to help him, he would still be here, but things we're hard for us both.

I eventually left that school going up to high school which broke my heart leaving my teacher, but he assured me I would be okay and to carry on with my music because he knew I would become a star one day.

Which is why it is still my dream to this day; I will be thankful for him for the rest of my life.

I walk out into the living room looking at the sofa again, the memorise of killing my father trying to push their way into my mind, tears threatening to slip from my eyes as I remember that night.

I just hope that I won't be like this whenever I come back here, it's going to hurt every time and I don't want to keep having to get Harry here, it's not fair.

I walk around to the kitchen trying to ignore myself screaming in my head that I need to tell Harry what happened last night, he's going to want to know whether he tells me or not, I don't want to keep it from him either.