Misbegotten

Fifteen

"Do you want me to stay?" Chelsea asked. I nodded wordlessly in answer. Declan came to a stop in front of us.

"So your off," he said in a pitiful attempt to start a conversation. I didn't even hold back my eye roll and scoffed at his comment.

"Sof –" he began.

"I'm not interested in hearing anything you have to say right now," I said under my breath so his parents wouldn't hear us. Chelsea was still standing bravely at my side glaring at Declan. He glanced over at her before looking back to me, I knew he was feeling the heat of her glare; it was a look she had perfected after years and years of practise on me. When he said nothing I picked up my bag and told Chelsea to start walking to the car.

"I meant what I said," Declan pulled me back by catching my elbow. I looked back at him with an annoyed expression, waiting for him to finish. "I'll come to you when I get my letter."

"Come if you want," I hissed. "I won't be waiting."

With that I pulled my arm away from him and followed Chelsea into the car.

"That was a little harsh maybe," she quietly observed.

"Maybe," I agreed but I didn't regret it. I had been shoved around and second-guessed my whole life; I couldn't afford to let myself wait for him if he was going to do that just. I needed someone who didn't see me because of my past, but rather just saw me for me, and wanted me just how I was. For a moment I thought Declan might have been that person. But I was wrong. I was so wrong.

*

My dad had made sure that we all had seats together on the flight home. I honestly couldn't have cared less, but I suppose he was still trying to make up for what happened. I didn't know what would happen with dad, I obviously still loved him, but the fact that he truly believed I was not only a mistake but also one that he would take back hurt too much to think about. Nothing could ever compare to the feeling of the one person in the world who was supposed to love, just simply didn't love you that much at all. It was like being stabbed in the stomach every time it entered my mind.

"Are you okay?" Cameron's voice pulled me from my thoughts. I turned to look over to him. I ended up sitting in between him and Cleo on the plane. Cleo had insisted a window seat so she could see the 'marshmallow clouds', only to fall asleep on my arm two minutes into the flight. While I found it adorable, her head was heavy so I had leaned her over onto the wall and covered her with a blanket.

"I'm always okay," I lied.

"You're hardly ever okay," he shot back. I couldn't quite argue with that. I sighed leaning my head back against the plane chair. Like all plane seats it was uncomfortable, I moved slightly and stretched out my legs that had become quite stiff before folding them beneath me again.

"Do you think that I'll ever be okay one day then?" I asked. I had no clue what had motivated me to ask such a depressing question. If he said no I didn't know how I would feel. But it had been weighing on me ever since the plane took off. After all this time I still wasn't okay, I hardly remembered what it felt like. Sure there were moments where I was happy, and yeah maybe some things have changed for the better, like my relationship with Chelsea, but overall I was still in a downward spiral. I couldn't see past all the things that had happened to me. I didn't see myself letting go of the pain and moving on. I was scared I would never be able to.

"Of course," was his response.

"How do you know that?"

"Because, you're the just about the strongest person I know. You've been through hell and back and you're still standing."

"Technically I'm sitting right now," I tried to joke.

"You know what I mean," Cameron sighed but smiling despite himself. "You know what you need to realise?"

"What?" I asked genuinely curious.

"You think that you're confined by what's happened," he began. "And then you get angry and disappointed when people do that same thing – the thing you've been doing to yourself all along. How do you expect others to see you for who you really are, and not where you've come from, if you don't let yourself be that person? You need to stop letting it all dictate who you are. It happened and it sucked, but there is nothing in the world you can do to change what's already done. Trust me on this. You need to stop thinking of yourself as nothing more than the hurt and pain that life has handed you."

I stared at a loose thread in my shorts as I let his words sink in. It wasn't anything new, but it was all the thoughts that I had suppressed. But it was also the truth. The main reason what anyone said - Florence, my dad, Amanda, Declan, anyone - affected me so much was because I wholeheartedly believed it. I believed I was screwed up and unworthy because of everything that had happened. But I didn't want to be like that anymore. I took a deep breath and lifted my eyes up to meet his. He looked at me expectantly – waiting for me to retaliate I assumed because that's what I usually did. I fought everything and everyone and I ran and ran and look where it had gotten me; heartbroken, confused and lost. I needed to stop running once and for all.

"I don't know if I know how to do that," I started and Cam opened his mouth to argue but I kept talking before he could get a word in. "Will you help me to?"

He snapped his mouth closed, his eyes softening before replying "Of course."