Change Me | Hariana

Flashback

Chapter 6: Flashback

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Ariana's Pov:

I shifted unnervingly on my seat, not used to my current surrounding. My palms started sweating from the nerves, as loud music blared through my eardrums. I stared at the seven shots that the bartender placed in front of me.

My watch read 2:41 and I should be sleeping, but instead I'm in a club to mourn and forget.

I got a call from Annabelle, a close friend from home, earlier this afternoon soon after I left Harry's flat. I was expecting that she would welcome me and check up on how I was doing in my fresh home. And then I would tell her what had happened to me this past week but, picking up that phone and clicking answer was the biggest mistake I have ever done.

Josh: the guy that I could lean on. The guy who was there when I thought I was alone. The guy that I loved was gone. He was involved in a fatal car crash for worrying about me, and searching where I was. Even though Anabelle didn't say so, I know that I was the reason for this. I was the reason why she lost her brother.

I felt like thousands of daggers were stabbed through my heart and there was no way to pull it out.

He was the one who stopped me from my old behavior. He was the one who stopped me from self abusing myself. He was the one who kept me clean for about two years because of my horrible precedent life story.

Until today, I am still astonished that someone ghastly like him would exist in this world we live in.

He would always come home with alcohol filling his scent, smoke mixed with it, and call my name from downstairs. I would conceal myself under my bed covers, his worn out voice calling my name being my alarm into hiding.

I prayed night and day, asking for help that if I closed my eyes and hid under the dark of the covers that he would just go away. That the monster will go away. But he didn't. He still continued having no pity left for me, forgetting that I was even his own blood. I would tell him to stop between my cries but he just whispers "it's okay Ari."

Every morning at school, kids analyzed me because of how I prepared myself in the morning. My eyes dragged on the floor, not being able to sleep because of my father's beatings because of depression. I attempted my best to try and look presentable, so I wouldn't receive pitying looks, but people continued to stare.

I would be shaking all day, books held tight around me as if it was my protector and whenever someone tries to come near me, I would fasten my pace not wanting to be disturbed. During a lesson I would black out and I would always hear the teacher yell "Ari pay attention!"

Hearing that nickname made me flinch in my spot. Ari. I loathed that name, 'til this day forward. That nickname reminded me of those nights that bottles of vodka made me forget.

Teachers and guidance councelors would pull me out of class to talk to me. They urged me on why I was acting so frightened and alarmed from everyone and I would try and tell them about my father, but the memories makes me break down and cry.

Sometimes I would suspend a class to go to the bathroom, and cry myself the whole period not having any courage or someone to tell me to keep strong. I wasn't able to make friends thinking that they acted the same as my father.

I self harmed thinking it was the only escape. I thought that the bruises that he had left on my arms and legs wouldn't make a difference.

I had stopped referring to him as dad, and began calling him father.

After my father was done with me, I would always go to the bathroom after, staring at myself feeling like filth. I would take my razor out and gently slit three cuts on each of my wrists. I have done that multiple times that I just feel the numbness on it.