"I love you. Be careful... Please." Harry says in a soft,gentle tone. I smile a soft smile, agreeing that I will and telling him I love him more. He hangs up the phone, leaving me to get ready for our big day. Harry was already down in New York with...
(Can someone show me/ teach me how to put a gif up ^^^there? I tried, but they don't work😠So if anyone can help me, I will seriously be the happiest person ever!)
Amanda's POV
We ended up falling asleep on the little couch, his arms wrapped tightly around me. I could barely move, but I was fine with that. I turned the best I could to look are Harry.
He was still asleep. His eyes kept fluttering, dreaming about something. Strands of his curly hair fell over his face, making me brush them to the side, carefully. He was slightly smiling in his sleep, making me join him in the action.
I looked back at the excerpts I had written, flipping through the pages that had came loose from my journal. Most of them were a page or two long, front and back, but that's probably because the notebook wasn't big; it was about the size of diary.
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I skimmed through them, reading the titles I had written across the top.
"Him"
"Lust"
"Pain"
But one in particular made my stomach twist into multiple knots. Sending a chill down my spin, and instantly giving me un-welcomed aches throughout my body. It had read, "Bruises." I set down all the other pages and read the paper. Tear stains covered it, bringing me back to the moment I had written it. The memory was already causing pain to build up inside of me. I began to read it.
"Constant yelling surrounding the small, 2 bedroom house. Every corner, every room, every place imaginable in that house, it was heard. The deep, dark voice of the man my mother had married gave everyone a sense of hatred. Sometimes the voices would stop, and all you could hear were heavy footsteps trailing among the house. I hid under beds, in closets, in the shed that took up almost our entire backyard, but somehow, those footsteps would track me down.
I would be yanked out from wherever I was, as if he was a demon trying to drag me to the pits of hell. He would bring me to where my mother was, either cornering me or making me kneel down on the ground, but no matter where I was placed, I knew nothing remotely good could come from it.
Stinging. Throbbing. Pain.
Those were the words that would describe the things I felt. His hands collided with my face. His feet that would always wear steel toed boots would kick me in my ribs. His fist collided with my gut and my cheekbone. Almost collapsing completely to the ground, blacking out from the impact, I would hear my mother's faint screams. She couldn't help me considering he had pulled a pistol on her multiple times before. I sat and watched faintly. Her tears rolling off her face, and the man I would call dad was... Smiling?
He enjoyed our pain. He liked to see us cry out for help, even though nobody would come. Nobody, not even my mother knew how or why he ended up like this, but before long, it soon came to an end when he disappeared. We don't know where he is or where he went, but the thought that he is still out there haunts me.
