Misbelief

Chapter 14

Lillian's POV

I look around, hoping to find Harry crouched beside a tree, but I never do. I look at the journal in my hand, running my finger down the spine as I open it to the very first page. I can tell I'm probably the only one who has ever read it, aside from Harry. To my lover is his dedication, making me smile lightly as I look up at the sky. A shooting star goes by, but for once, I don't need a wish...I think. I'm just hoping all the clouds will be cleared up between Harry and I, and that I learn so much more about him.

I begin to read his journal, cherishing every second.

Day 1

My mother gave me a journal today, telling me I could write anything I could think of. My thoughts, my dreams, my desires, anything I could come up with. I decided to write every single one of my thoughts I had every day, and make this a book of secrets.

I woke up, thinking this might actually be an amazing day, but I was of course, like always, wrong. I wish I had a best day of my life like a normal child, but I could never be a normal child. All the days I had always made the next worst day. Every day was worse than the last and it went like that for my whole 6 years of living.

I may not seem like a six year old, but my mum says I'm advanced. She had given me a necklace the other day too, she had noticed that I loved to write, and it was a small necklace with a pencil hanging off of it.

I always wanted to know if she had ever noticed things like that about me. Now I know, at least one of my parents care about me.

My father hates me, and sometimes I wish he didn't, but then I'm snapped back into reality. It's just not possible. Especially for people like him.

People like him hate their lives, throw it away before they even get to experience it. He doesn't understand what living truly means. All he does is block out the world, and he hides from it too. He doesn't feel anything, he doesn't have a heart. He needs to throw the liquor away, or he will never be able to experience the beautiful gifts that we are given. Like feeling the warmth of sunshine on our skin, being able to love someone other than yourself. Feel something other than pain, sorrow, and anger for a change.

He stumbles into our house every night, looking for trouble with us. Making the biggest deal out every little thing he can be bugged about. My mum says he's just ignorant, but I say he's already dead.

Maybe tomorrow will be my breaking point, the day I finally lose myself to him. To his beatings, to the glass from the beer bottles in my delicate skin.

Maybe tomorrow I will finally give up on life, but I tell myself that every night. It never comes true. It's sad that as a 6 year old, my dream is being able to die. I don't want to die. But I don't want to live either.

This is my dilemma.

-H

I silence my quiet sobs as I lift my eyes from the pages. I seriously need to learn how to be heartless.

I look into the distance, noticing the fog a few feet in front of me. He had told me to read one every day, so I couldn't read anymore. I couldn't bare what happened in his life already, and that was only one day.

I stand up, wiping my cheeks with the sleeves of my sweater, and I hold the fragile book tightly to my chest. Protecting it, as if it's a living being. I begin to walk in any direction, not knowing which way it is. The dreadful fog is blocking my view of everything, but a few trees close to me.

Walking along trees, I begin to carve each of them with a mark as I pass each one. I take my nail, making the initials, LD, for of course, my name.