Hit
The pain coursing in me was still fresh, a ripped wound that hasn't healed despite the time I had given. Everything that I saw pierced it like a knife, only making it worse, unbearable.
The flashbacks hit me like a wave now, a wave that I was helpless against and could only watch silently as it drowned me.
Hit
Staring outside the window, my lips pressed into a firm line as the autumn leaves fell, their colours only adding beauty to the scenery. Beautiful, a word that can't describe my life anymore, especially after my father's drinking had increased.
He no longer went to work and instead stayed home every day, a green familiar bottle forever clutched in his hand like a prized trophy.
Hit Hit
Why was it that everyone was going on with their lives, people walking their dogs or gripping their briefcases as they rushed to places?
Why was it that everyone's lives seemed normal when mine was on the verge of crashing?
Little did I know that that very day was going to be the worst of them all, the matchstick to the floor of oil just calling to be burned.
Hit
With a deep sigh, I strayed my gaze from the breath-taking trees to my driveway, hearing a puzzling rumble of an engine.
It was then I heard a laugh so painstakingly familiar that I had to do a slight double take to make sure I was seeing it right.
Hit
It was coming from my mother, a person who moped around the house after her husband's
depression struck full force and who, just like me, remained a shell of her former self.
Or so I thought, as I watched the scene with my › breath held silently as if a single intake of air would cause the duo to look up and spot my unwanted eyes.
Hit Hit
In my mother's hands were two suitcases, her brunette hair flowing and clothes immaculate, two things that I thought had disappeared when she went into her state of silent moping.
But no, she was running into another man's arms, someone I had never seen before.
And that smile on her face, a smile I had thought was only reserved for us, matched the smirk on his perfectly like they were destined for each other. Who was he?
Hit
No matter how much I wanted to deny it, they were a perfectly stunning pair- their heights matching and beauty complementing one another.
They looked like they were meant to be instead of the mismatched marriage she was trapped in now, where my father reigned over the house and my mother was a silent damsel in distress.
Hit
But she had found her prince now, this unknown stranger liting her with joy. But did it have to be at the expense of us? I may have always been considered naive and innocent but I wasn't ignorant to the reality that slapped my face.
She was leaving us with him, leaving us to suffer in our misery while she embarked on her new life, one not tainted by the hands of two children and a drunken husband.
Hit hit
And with that, I snapped out of my flashback as the punching bag flew back towards me with propelling momentum.
Tensing my body slightly, I let it knock me to the floor, my energy draining faster than ever before as I laid there on the boxing mat.
But the memory, the flashback I had, was flawed for he no longer was my father. No, my true mother left me without a thought when things got hard, she fled like the coward she was and left me with the man who longed for vengeance.
I winced as pain unflowered in my knuckles from the rapid hitting without boxing gloves but it was a way to escape my frustration and pain.
The phone call had struck me in a way nothing else had and it pulled on one of my sensitive strings.
Was this why no one loved me?
I was just a mistake, one that caused the love of my parents to fade out and one that took smith away from his bubble of joy and security.
It was a bubble I had once basked in but now, looking back at the good memories I had many many years ago, I felt like a dirty intruder. That wasn't my happiness to savour.
I no longer had control over how my life played out and it infuriated me like no other. I gritted my teeth as I got up for another round at escaping from the problems pressing down upon me.
My knuckles dripped blood on the mat but at this point I was uncaring about anything, just focusing on the target in front of me.
It gave me a sense of control, something my mind desperately craved.
It was like my tidal of emotions had been coated with a blanket of numbness and all that was left in my head was a flurry of thoughts.
He wasn't my father
He wasn't my father
He wasn't my father
Those words rang over and over again so many times that they had lost the emotional attachment it once had. It was just four words, four words that made me lose my feelings second by second as I took them all out mercilessly on the punching bag.
I didn't even know how many hours I had been holed up in here but if I were to go by pure judgement, it had to be at least six.
Blake had come in, tried to talk with me out of the room and for something to eat but had left immediately when he had seen the state I was in.
He didn't know how to calm me down for he hadn't experienced being lied to, I don't think, for he blanched at the sight of me releasing my wrath.
Either that or it was my monstrous expression that stuck on my face for the first three hours, though now my slate was blank, unexpressive.
Speaking of the devil, the door opened behind me and I clenched my eyes in frustration for a mere moment, stopping the bean bag before using my shirt to wipe the sweat staining my shirt.
"Just leave me alone, " I hissed through my teeth as I stared out the window, waiting for the click of the door to sound again as he left me alone. Yet, footsteps continued its path towards me and I let out a small groan.
Human interaction felt like poison towards me now and I just wanted to hole up in a room, bleeding out my own pain and tormented by my memories.
It was better than talking to people and all the while can't help but feeling jealous when I know I shouldn't be.
Most people probably knew their father or if not, didn't live a life of lies and deceit. I hated that I had to face this and knew that I Most people probably knew their father or if not, didn't live a life of lies and deceit. I hated that I had to face this and knew that I would have preferred the truth to start with, even if it took away the glimpses I had of fatherly love when I was younger.
I turned around, slightly exasperated that the person just stood there, only to feel Chris's penetrating gaze latch onto me.
Why was it that even at this moment, butterflies unfurled in the pit of my stomach?
Shouldn't this reveal be enough to keep them away but sadly, hormones didn't bow down to anyone and mine clearly didn't want to stay away whenever chris was near.
Damn his green eyes...
I cleared my throat softly before turning back to the punching bag, trying my best to keep my mental image of him out of my mind.
Why was it that he had such an effect on me?
Anger rippled through me- at my circumstances, at my feelings but most importantly at my family- and I began punching the beanbag with new fever.
I tried to regulate my breathing, making it a point to ignore the guy that was watching me quietly in a futile attempt that he would leave.
In and out
In and out
In and out
But my heart rate refused to steady and my breathing continued to hitch, especially when I heard him walking closer to where I stood.
Was it just me or did the temperature in here increase by a couple of degrees?
I sucked in a breath when he came directly behind me and I could feel his breathe fanning on my back. I could smell the expensive cologne that he wore and for some reason, that drew me in even further.
"W...what do you want?" I stuttered at first before clearing my throat and speaking again. The punching bag was long forgotten, steadied as I rested one of my hands on it.
Instead, my concentration was on trying not to faint, especially when he wrapped an arm around my waist.
He gently pulled me back and I complied, my thoughts in disarray. I could feel his broad arm through the thin material of my shirt and his abs pressing against my back was enough to send me into overdrive.
What was going on?
He stopped a few metres away from the punching bag before turning me to face him, all the while not uttering a single word.
I appreciated it and deep down, it was what I needed. The silent comfort of another-it was like he understood me better than no other.
His thumb brushed against the skin above my knuckles in a soothing pattern as he examined the bruised state and I could only watch him as he bent his head down, hair falling down and sweeping his forehead.
After a moment, he let go of my hand and I would be lying if I said I didn't miss the contact of his hand over mine, something about him just alluding safety and comfort.
I trusted him, I don't know how or why, but I did. And that scared me like no other...
He returned from the bathroom with a first aid kit and led us to the benches where I sat down with my back pressed against the wall and head tilted up, my hands held in his as he began to clean them.
I remember when we were in swapped positions and wondered. would this be a thing we did for each other now?
Some part of me buzzed with happiness and excitement as I thought about the new thing we shared together while the biggest part still remained unresponsive and numb.
Would I ever get over this?
The broken part of me had always craved a fatherly presence and a motherly love when it abruptly stopped and I always fantasised what it would be like if we all were together again, like a normal family.
That same part of me shattered when I heard the truth when I realised that my dream was only going to remain as such.
I didn't realise how upset I was until I felt Chris's thumb brush over my cheek to wipe my lone tear that escaped its dungeon.
I looked over to him, only to see his gaze already fixed on my face, at where his hand comfortably rested on the side of my cheek.
I was waiting for him to pull away and wasn't the least bit surprised when he did. He always thought tears were for the weak and I didn't expect him to comfort me as I wallowed in my sadness and self-pity.
But he had changed from the last time I broke down, we had changed...
He wrapped his arms around my waist and I tensed, momentarily shocked before I relaxed in his touch. I lay my head against his chest, his chin resting on my head as I listened to the calming beat of his heart.
"You'll get through this, you're one of the strongest people I know. Your courage is something I admire," He whispered and I was about to pull back, my mouth already opened to spew out something contrary.
I wasn't strong at all, the inside of me was like a broken child that craved other peoples attention and approval.
He just pulled me tighter into the hug, one of his hands coming up to stroke my hair. "Shhh, it'll all be okay one day." He muttered and for a moment, I believed him.
One day, maybe not soon and maybe not in the next few weeks but one day, I would be whole again.
TBC
How do you feel about chris and Hazel's developing relationship?
Do you think she'll spill about her fake relationship with Blake?
Do you think they should get together if she does?
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