𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, bohemian rhapsody oneshots

rogerina

She left when she was young.

Her father had wished for a boy, and she didn't want to imagine his face when they went in and he found out that she wouldn't be the perfect boy he wanted. She didn't want to imagine him thinking about all the pain he was ready to cause her. She didn't want to think about any of that.

She didn't want to think about the fact that her mom was probably already dead, because she left her in the hands of him.

But he always acted like he loved her, and he never did that with her, unless it was in public. And he never did that with her mother, always acting like he had just fallen in love with her all over again. So maybe her mother was alright. Maybe her mother was in good hands, not being beaten like she had her life.

She didn't really care, though. If her mother really cared, she would've stopped the abuse that he did to her, stopping the pain that cut deep into her.

But she didn't, so she couldn't ever feel anything for her mother, ever again.

Sometimes, she did, though. She didn't like it. She didn't want to feel anything for her mother ever.

---

Rogerina Anne Taylor

She didn't like her name. Not one bit.

She didn't like the initials. She didn't like her middle name, didn't like her first, didn't like it as a whole.

She wanted to be called Taylor, by people she trusted.

She didn't trust anyone.

---

She fought with her fists and played with them too, hands gripped tight so her skin looked unnaturally pale in the tight spots. So people knew how hard she would punch if you looked at her and tried to "fix" her. So people would know not to mess with her.

People usually couldn't tell, though. They were dumbasses.

She had to try and help them realize this.

It usually ended with more pain at home.

She didn't care.

Hadn't cared for a while.

Didn't mean it didn't hurt. She still felt all of it.

She just didn't give a shit.

---

She ran away from home when she was 16.

The abuse had gotten worse. She started fighting back, and he started feeding her less and hiding everything, and she had to do everything. She had to get a job, and but her own food, and hide it in her room, where he wouldn't even dare to look and sneak bites when she could, when he wasn't awake and she could breathe freely. When she could do shit that he couldn't stop her from doing.

She was always tired and falling asleep in school, and she would always get in trouble, but wouldn't you stay up if it meant you got freedom from your abuser? If you could just breathe freely, if only for a moment? If you could feel like you've just entered a new place, with no plan and time to do anything?

Her job threatened to fire her when she started sleeping, and she didn't want to be fired from the job, because even though it's the only one she's ever had, she's loved it, and it's so much fun.

So she quits, so she doesn't have to say her first job fired her, and she returns home, waiting until her parents are asleep to pack everything in her suitcase, slip on comfortable clothes, and leave the house, grabbing the keys to it and carrying them with her, so she can have one last go at them.