You Again

Chapter 6

Yeah, I have a sister. But my mother won't let me see her. I remind my mom too much of my dad that is in- god knows where he is. I have his hair, his eyes, his medium height. I have his nose and ears, at least that's what my mom tells me. I have his voice and his attitude. I am a "girl version of my bastard dad" as my mother says. No! She's not my mother. That woman was my parent. Mothers love you and give you respect. All she did was give me a place to sleep at night. All the food and the clothes and phone, I had to work for myself. She wasted the little money she had on drugs. I had to take care of myself all the time. I never told Zayn that because I knew he was cruel, but not cruel enough not to tell his parents and get my mom arrested.

And now, I feel like shit. I can't even look at myself. I am a mistake. I should have taken the chance to end all the pain when I had the chance. I wish I was gone, because just like I said to Zayn, I'm the joke.

"Stop thinking and come out," Zayn's voice commands at the other side of the door.

"Get your ass out of my room, Malik," I snap back. 

"The boys aren't in here so you can come cry on my shoulder like you did a few years ago."

"That was the worst mistake of my life. You used everything I said against me, including today, so get the hell out of here," I snarl. I try to clean myself up so I can get out there and introduce the bastard to my fist again.

"Just get out here," Zayn repeats. Maybe it is okay to cry on his shoulder. No, I can't. I hate him. But just this one time.

I debate with myself whether on I should go out and talk to someone like Zayn. Finally I open the door to Zayn leaning on the door frame with a worried look on his face.

Before I can say anything, he pulls me into a hug. There, I just cry. Just whine and sob and let out all the tears I held in when I was in the bathroom. He strokes my hair and whispers that he's sorry in my ear. We somehow make our way to my bed and lay down with my head on his chest, my arms around his body and his arm around my body still stroking my hair.

"It's all going to be okay," he assures me.

I argue, "No, she hates me. She won't let me see her. My dad left us and he's never coming back. I never got to meet him." I sob even harder when I actually hear it out loud.

"No, no, no. Shh..." he coos. "Who?"

"What?"

"Who can't you meet?" He asks looking me in the eyes.

"My sister," I reply, the sobbing stopping for a second. Once I say I can't see her, the cries start up again. I wonder what she looks like? Does she look like mom? Or does she look like dad and me? Or does she look like a mix? I wonder how mom is treating her? Is she treating her second child the way she treated her first child? Like shit? Or is she loving her daughter I so longed for her to treat me like? Is her father treating her right? I wonder what her name is?

"You have a sister?" Zayn asks with disbelief. I nod on his well toned chest. "What's her name?"

That just stings more. "I don't know," I sniffle.

"Oh, Natalie."

"Why can't she just accept me?" I sob. More tears burst out of my eyes. Zayn just lays there whispering sweet nothings into my ear.

(FLASHBACK)

"Where have you been, you useless piece of shit?" my mom snarled at me as I walk in the door. Great, I forgot she was going to be home today. I just wanted to go up to my room and rest. But I have to put up with her before I can do anything. She's probably going to pass out any minute leaving me to give her a shower, change her and drag her to sleep. I don't even know why I help her when she doesn't help me.