"You fucking slut, you're just like your mother. She couldn't keep her legs closed either." His whole hand grasped around my bicep, dragging me up the stairs with all of his strength. I begged and pleaded with tears and frantic cries.
"I swear, nothing happened." I tripped but he kept pulling me upwards, causing carpet burns to appear on my shins. "Please father! Nothing happened!"
"Quiet yourself you little bitch!" With a thud he kicked open the bathroom door and dragged me inside.
He was strong, much stronger than me. I hadn't eaten a full meal in three days and I was half his size but the second I laid eyes on the bathtub already filled to the brim with water I fought back his hold.
"You deserve this. There's not enough holy water on this planet to cleanse your soul. Your body is your future husbands. Do you hear me? I'm raising no whore!" He pushed me into the bathtub and I screamed as my body hit the ice water.
My clothes glued to my skin and my nerves stiffened under the strain of the cold temperatures. My father leaned in and grabbed my throat, pushing me beneath the surface. I gripped onto the handles either side of the tub with my dear life until I finally gave up the power and he succeeded in submerging me.
I spluttered beneath the surface as the water cut off my circulation. Drowning pathetically, lungs unable to take in the oxygen I so desperately craved. He pulled me up, allowing me one cruel breath, a tactic he only uses to prolong this torture.
"You know what makes you special? Your virginity. Nothing else. You give that away you slut and you're nothing! Just used goods, nobody wants a plucked flower Fearne!"
Once again he pushed me beneath the water. It penetrated my throat, my nose and my eyes. It blocked off my hearing and removed all of my senses. That's the moment the natural survival instinct kicks in along with fear and pure absolute panic. You think you're dead before you actually die. And in that moment you think about what you were actually living for.
You think about the sins you committed.
You get a glimpse of hell and that scares you into never wanting to go there.
My father pulled my body up out of the water and I gasped in the much needed air. My throat burned, my chest hurt. I was being crushed alive by the vicious water and why? Because I asked permission to go on a date with a boy I'm not all that attracted to.
"Only whores want to have sex Fearne. Only whores enjoy it. I will pick who you will marry, me and only me. Until then you don't speak with boys, you don't kiss them, you don't engage in any sexual activities. You are celibate until I say otherwise."
He pushed me back beneath the water and I struggled against his hand. Splashing water everywhere, soaking him, killing me. I was submerged once again. Flooding on the inside, enough to make me sink.
"Do not disrespect me. I raised you correctly. I showed you the error of your ways and this is the honour you give me? You're nothing but a low life hussy!"
I could see a blurred version of his angry face hovering above the surface. I wanted to die just so that I didn't get to see it again.
Sometimes death is the only way out of the pain.
It hurt too much. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to be alive. So I stopped fighting against his chokehold and lay still giving myself to death.
"Fearne!"
I sat up immediately, deliriously drenched in a cold sweat which I thought was bath water until I noted the fearful expression on Olivias face.
"What?" I asked, trying to remain as nonchalant as possible but failing miserably because inside I was a trembling mess. She softened her eyes and dread washed over me. What did I say? Who else heard me?
"You were screaming." I cradled myself with my own arms and breathed more rapidly than usual just to remind myself that I could. "Do you want to talk about it?" She asked gently.
"No."
"But if you do, I'm here and if you don't want to speak to me I can book you an appointment with one of the therapists at the clinic."
I couldn't help but smile at that. Olivia was sweet, I didn't actually believe there was a bad bone in her body but she was naïve.
I developed an eating disorder and still didn't get put into therapy. I watched my mom die in the most blood-heavy way and still didn't get put into therapy. I attempted suicide twice and still didn't get put into therapy. My father has parental rights over me. Medically he gets the say and he doesn't believe in therapy. He believes God heals all.
I pushed the comforter off my body and stood up, moving myself towards the mirror so I could see the damage my latest nightmare caused to my appearance.
"It's not that deep, okay? I've been through it. I had a nightmare. I'm awake now, it's over." I ran my fingers through my tangles and my attention averted towards the figure hovering out in the hallway. "Great. That's just great." I muttered with sarcasm.
Jamie awkwardly stepped into my room, at least he had the decency to look sheepish about getting caught eavesdropping. "I heard the screams." He murmured quietly, his hand snaked up and gripped the back of his neck.
"Everything is fine." I announced bluntly. Olivia stood up and moved towards the door. She tapped Jamie on the shoulder.
"Get dressed, I'm sick of you walking around like that. I don't want you making people feel uncomfortable." He glanced down at his chosen attire, a grey T-shirt and black boxer shorts. I was pretty used to this being his daily comfort clothes so it didn't phase me anymore.
I returned my gaze back to the mirror and rubbed the dark circles under my eyes. Jamie hovered in my bedroom like he wanted to say more. I glanced back at him in the reflection.
"You want something?" I snapped.
"Uh... I can give you a ride to the game later, if you want." He noted awkwardly.
The game?
Some people enter your life and leave without altering anything. But the most dangerous people leave a lasting impression. They come into your life and sculpt it. You take their thoughts, views and opinions and apply them to every decision you make.
Some touch your mind, poisoning it with negativity. Some touch your heart, filling it with overwhelming love. Each one as dangerous as the other.
My father was the biggest architect in my world. He formed my every thought and doubt. My subconscious talks with his voice and my soul listens, crediting his opinions as right. Even something as small as soccer. He believed sports was a form of gambling and women don't gamble.
Fuck it, after that nightmare I'm feeling rebellious.
"Okay." I agreed after dwelling over my self doubt.
"Cool." Jamie nodded only once and then left.
•••
"That's James, everyone calls him Jimmy." Cameron pointed across the soccer field to a half-human, half-gator little mascot man.
"I'm sure he's adorable with the head on." I laughed before sucking up the remaining dregs of my slushy drink.
"He's adorable without it." Cameron mumbled.
"Cam, do you have a crush on the alligator?" He bumped his elbow into me and told me to 'shh.'
The bleachers chanted the school jingle, if there was one thing Lakeland didn't lack in -it was school spirit.
"Hey gorgeous, this seat taken?" I refrained from rolling my eyes, although I really, really wanted to.
"No, go ahead." I moved my bag from its resting place on the bleachers so Lexi could sit down.
I couldn't help but feel bitter about her calling me gorgeous when she looked like that. I didn't need her pity. I sucked up air through my straw in annoyance, not caring if my cup was empty.
The soccer team entered the pitch and the surrounding bleachers almost blew out my ear drums with how loudly they screamed. My eyes scanned the line up, spotting him instantly.
It has been a week since I last spoke to Arlo. Whenever I've seen him around school he has walked the other way. During lessons he stuck to his own group of friends, I kept to myself. If he came around to the house he hung out in Jamie's room or just generally somewhere I wasn't.
It's not like I missed him.
I was irritated by him. He dragged me to a hotel and acted crazy. He invaded my personal space and touched the scars on my wrists. He drove like a manic with me in the car. Yet he was the one angry at me and that bugged me, I wanted to know why.
He looked smaller from up here, he chugged back water from a bottle and then wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his navy fleece. He threw the bottle across the turf and ran towards Jamie, jumping on his back and knuckling his head.
There was a contrast of behaviours between Arlo and Jamie when on the soccer pitch. Arlo, as always didn't take anything too seriously. He laughed and joked around with his teammates, just generally seeming laid back. Jamie however was in 'the zone' his face radiated utter seriousness and he stretched his muscles at the sidelines, preparing for the game.
My face slowly turned to Lexi, I wanted to gauge where her eyes were looking - or rather who they were looking at.
"Yes?" She asked without turning to face me. I snapped my head back to face the pitch instantly but then I realised how fucking stupid that was.
"Do you like have any insecurities at all?" I don't know why I just asked that. It was a thought, one not meant to be spoken. Lexi turned to face me slowly, her perfectly defined brows furrowed ever so slightly.
"Course I do. I'm a straight female, raised by two gay men who pay for my tuition by taking their clothes off. I'm not clever, forced to redo my senior year because I failed to graduate with my class and my body count is higher than I'd like it to be." She turned back to look at the field. "Plus, I've made mistakes. Stupid fucking mistakes."
"Oh." Was all I could muster up in that moment. I turned back to look at the players. Arlo had taken his fleece off now and I could see 'PEERS' written on his back in white font and the number eight.
"Hey, I followed you on Instagram." Her smile was radiant even with that silver ring poking out from her upper gum.
"I don't really know how to use social media." I took my phone out and opened up Instagram. The homepage instantly flooded with pre-game photos of the team pulling tongues and other goofy faces. Lexi laughed, chewing down into her lower lip and tugging on it.
"It helps if you follow more than one person." My eyes widened and I felt my already pale face drop further in colour.
People could see who I follow on Instagram?
"Wait, who do you follow?" Cam asked, yanking the phone right out of my hand. His thumb skimmed over my screen. "Oh." He delved deeper into Arlos timeline and shook his head. "Shit Fearne, please tell me you used airplane mode to watch his stories?" I shook my head really slowly.
Shit. Could he see that too?