TW- this is a heavy chapter. themes include
- drug abuse
-sexual assault
-documentation of sexual assault
-vomitting
-alcohol abuse
please don't read this if any of these could harm your mental health, the next chapter will be a lot calmer <3
★
I was the golden girl.
I was the child that made miracles happen when a camera was residing on her innocent little face.
At the age of only eight years old, I burnt so brightly like the fucking sun. I demanded attention, captivated audiences and delivered lines better than some experienced actors far older than me.
But that was what was expected of me. It was enforced from a young age that I strive for greatness and above all else, perfection.
My parents, my mum and my dad mainly but even my grandmother, all expected me to somehow pioneer wings made solely from the finest gold and still somehow stay in flight while soaring through the sky.
It was demanded that I work harder than everyone else, that I thrive, that I fight and that I give up my childhood to make everyone proud. There wasn't another choice to it, there was only that one singular option.
Greatness or nothing.
I had this talent, I had this spark that other people saw in me before I was even old enough to establish my own little personality. The subtle push to begin moulding myself into someone who I am not entirely sure that I would have become had they not been so hard on me.
Like putty in their hands, I was created from the bottom up and formed into the daughter that they expected and longed for. Everything about me was strategically created and formed from nothing into everything that they wished they could be.
My parents were fulfilling their dreams through me. Building me into the person that they wish they got to become.
I can't really blame them for it either.
Having a child, I can't imagine how hard that is.
It is draining and terrifying from what I can tell, there is very little that makes parents proud besides greatness.
However, I was only eight when this all started for me.
That was the bottom line. I was eight years old and I was the sole provider for my family. I wasn't even in double digits yet and I was the only family member making an income and keeping everyone afloat.
Being eight is the height of childhood. I should have been dancing around in tutus and tiaras. I should have been rolling around in the grass outside, getting my clothes messy with dirt and grass strains as I crawled around to pick the prettiest flowers in the garden. I should have been using crayons and colouring in big pictures of my family or drawing on the driveway with giant chalk. Playing hopscotch and learning to ride my bike without stabilisers
I should have been allowed to be a child.
But I wasn't.
Instead, I was hauled around by my mother from audition to audition. From set to set. Travelling the length of Australia for her to scour ways that she could exploit her child over and over for money.
I was a money machine in her eyes.
But she needed the money that I made to fuel and fund her addiction.
My mum has always had a problem with drugs. Grandpa claimed that it started when she was a teenager. Apparently, she got caught up in the wrong crowd at school, found a dodgy boyfriend and ended up getting wrapped up in a bad world filled with narcotics and booze.
No one ever told me the full story. Trying to protect me from the horrors of it, I was constantly fed small bits and pieces but from what I can work out, she got clean for a little while when she met my dad but soon after having me she fell back into that world but this time it was far worse.
There was only so much people could take of her habit before they started to drift away and abandon her.
She wasn't a nice person when she was high. It was like she turned into this whole other persona who was rude, snappy, violent and just downright mean.
It wasn't a surprise to me when people started to vanish from my life because of her. I was her child so when people cut ties with my mum, they also cut ties with me.
The first real loss I faced due to my mum's addiction was my dad.
My dad left when I was eleven.
Sneaking out in the middle of the night, I caught him shoving suitcases into the back of his car with a frantic expression of worry on his face. The second that he saw me standing lifelessly in the doorway with my teddy bear tucked under my arm, his face softened and he crushed me into his stomach as he hugged me tightly.
For the first year or two, I would go and stay with him on weekends. Then he met a new woman, her name was Jodie, and then the visits became less frequent.
Jodie had a son who my dad seemed to really love and I liked him too. It felt like I had a sibling.
After a really bad night with my mum, I called my dad in tears and he promised that he would file a custody order against my mum.
My dad promised to come back and get me but he never did.
I haven't seen him since then.
Then her own mother, my grandmother, cut ties.
At this point, I was used to the loss and so it didn't hurt that bad.
For most of my childhood, it was just me, my mum and my grandpa.
Besides Priya, my grandpa is my absolute favourite person in this world. The one small glimpse at a childhood I had was from him. He took me to the park and rolled around with me and Priya until our stomachs hurt from laughing.
Grandpa died when I was eighteen, just before I met the One Direction boys. Maybe that's why I clung to them so much when I did. Maybe that was the reason they felt like home to me.
Because other than them, I had my mum and I had Priya.
After meeting Harry, I finally put my foot down to my mum and I demanded time off. I had been working almost continuously for ten years of my life to support her and her addiction.
I had just wrapped shooting on my biggest role yet and Harry asked if I wanted to go on tour with him and the boys. It was reckless and idiotic but I had spent all of my life being the good girl.
I always made the right decision and did what I had to in order to make people proud. But somehow, one small bat of Harry's eyelashes made me cave and immediately, I was nodding in agreement and racing home to convince Priya and her parents that this was a good idea and she should come with me.
I was the golden girl until I started to pluck off the feathers from my wings.
Starting to fall from the heavens, I swooped down amongst the mess of my life until I was barely skidding above the surface of the water. Looking down, I see my reflection, broken and shattered with each ripple that waves through the current.
Growing up with a parent who is an addict, it takes something from you. That home and that family have robbed me of something that I am never getting back. Even if I tried.
Nothing was more important to my mum than heroin. Everything was second priority to her getting a fix; including me.
Especially me.
I swore that I would never become like my mother.
As a child, I resented the sight of her eyes when she was high. First, her pupils would grow really big, they would dilate to an almost dangerous degree and then they would constrict to a small pin prick that looked almost evil.
I swore on everything that I have ever worked for that I would never become like my mother.
And yet here I am hunched over a glass coffee table in Holland's house with a rolled up hundred dollar bill pressed to my right nostril as I sharply inhale and suck up the white powder that stings slightly as I sniff it harshly and hope it hits my bloodstream quickly.
I don't know how I ended up here. I suppose I give in too easily. I've never been good at saying no.
As a heavy body slumps beside me, I reach for the neck of the tequila bottle and bring it to my lips.
Taking a swig or two, I flick my blurry eyes towards who has just sat next to me to find none other than Jonathan.
"Here's my superstar!" He exclaims, most likely just as drugged up as I am.
The loud music drowns out the deep sound of his voice.
Maybe it's not so loud, maybe it's just that everything sounds a little muffled and hazy now.
"Here I am!" I flash a dopey grin, taking another gulp of the bitter liquid that burns the inside of my throat. I can feel the sting but it doesn't make me react.
I swallow, returning to smiling at my boyfriend who is paying attention to me for the first time in nearly a whole week. The only time he so much as acknowledges me is when he is barking orders at Harry and me during rehearsals and script readings.
"What you taken?" He smirks, silky pride drifting into his sinfully low voice.
I nod to the remnant powder that is dusting the glass table in a line.
"A line,"
"That's my girl!" He grins, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the side of my neck.
My hand falls heavily to his thigh, as the kisses along my jaw with an eagerness that cares very little about the other doped up people lazing over the couch we are sitting on. Or the other people in the room who are drinking like their life depends on it.
I let him, feeling excited for once as he needily pushes my knees apart and forces my already incredibly short dress to ride up even higher on my tanned thighs.
His hand floats down between my thighs, not at all taking his time as I toss my head back to the back of the velvet couch that is stained with spilt liquor that is being sloshed around everywhere.
Jonathan purrs words in my ears but as my eyes roll back, all I can manage is a little hum in response that is sleepy and tired.
Jonathan's hand clamps tightly around my jaw and forces me to look at him. My eyes feather open but they're heavy and I feel so sleepy.
My eyes drop shut again as I part my lips to take a heavy breath but am instead drowned in tequila that is being poured into my mouth.
Overflowing, I gargle as I struggle to breathe with my nose backed up and my mouth filled with liquor that tastes rancid.
I desperately try to swallow, to regain the ability to breathe but every time I thickly swallow and force the tequila down my throat, Jonathan tips the lips of the bottle up against my mouth and once again fills my mouth up.
The cold liquid waterfalls down my neck and down to my cleavage where Jon starts to lap up the alcohol with his tongue.
Tapping his thigh twice, I try to get him to stop but with one hand grasping the nearly empty tequila bottle and the other harshly rubbing circles between my legs, I groan and tap his thigh again.
"Woah!"
A loud voice bursts through the room.
I recognise that voice.
I know it.
I'm sure I do.
"What the fuck?"
The steady flow of tequila stops running into my mouth and I am finally able to gulp down the final remains of golden coloured liquid that tastes so rancid it burns my tastebuds.
My eyes are so heavy that I cannot find the strength to open them. They feel like they are glued shut until I hear the shocking sound of glass smashing.
Snapping my eyes open, I see Harry towering over me with unadulterated anger fiercely contorting his face.
The tequila bottle is smashed on the floor by his feet, the remains of the liquid puddling around his shoes.
"Hey? I was drinking that!" Jon grits, trying to sound up from the couch but he is so intoxicated that he falls back onto the sofa with a humph.
"No, you were pouring it down her throat so I would suggest you shut the fuck up." Harry snarls through his teeth.
I blink, confused as to what was happening but before I know it, Harry is leaning over me to grab the throw blanket that was resting behind my head and tossing it over my lap.
"Holland!" He screeches loudly, not moving from the spot he has cemented himself in. "Holland!"
"What?" She slurs, prancing into frame with her own bottle of vodka in her hand.
Smiling dizzily at her, she looks down at me and then raises her eyes to Harry.
"Is she okay?"
"No, she's not fucking okay!" He snaps, flicking his eyes down to me cautiously. "Get those fuckers out of here right now, or so help me God!"
Stuck still, I can barely function besides watching as Holland turns on her stilettos to the people lazing on the other side of the room.
The opposite couch is navy blue.
I remember that.
"Now, Holland!" He demands the instruction with very little patience. "And make sure they deleted whatever vile shit they were just filming!"
I might be drunk and very, very high right now but I can tell from the edge in Harry's voice that he is going to hit someone if they don't start listening to him.
Holland jumps into action, shooing everyone out of the room with horror laced in her voice as she snatches someone's phone off them. "You filmed her! No! Because I said no!"
Harry turns back to me, his brows furrowing as he turns to Jonathan.
"Stay there!" He points to the couch we were sitting on and then crouches down in front of me with a softer, calmer green to his eyes.
"Hi," I just about whisper through my barely parted lips.
"Hey, Trouble." He weakly grins. "You doing okay?"
I nod, lulling my head to the side sleepily and blinking slowly through my thick lashes.
"Where's your phone, Arls?" He softly grabs my hand.
His is cold.
Icy cold.
"Mmm..." I mumble, tipping my head forward to the purse that was laying on the glass coffee table. "In my... purse."
"Okay, okay..." He leans back, grabbing my black leather purse and unzips it in a rush to find my phone.
"That's mine!" I mutter when I spot it in his hand.
He taps in a number to unlock it. Looking up at me, he has a small smirk on his lips.
"Still the same?"
I blink, not sure what to say and partly because I don't know what we are talking about here.
"Where is Priya's number?" He hums under his breath.
The screen is so bright that it casts a white glow over Harry's face. He winces at the brightness of it in the dark room while scrolling.
"Fuck!" Running his hand over his forehead, he keeps hold of my hand and rubs his thumb back and forth over the gold angel wing ring on my middle finger. Harry brought it for me when it hit the one year anniversary of Grandpa's passing.
I miss my grandpa.
He'd be upset with me right now.
"Priya?" He bursts from the seams with her name. "No, it's me, Harry!" He nods. "Yeah, I know it's late but I. I- need you to come and pick Arls up. We are at Holland's house there's–"
He swallows and I close my eyes, growing tired again.
My stomach churns and my mouth salivates with nausea but I can't get myself to move.
Everything feels so heavy.
"Arls?" My voice gets called. "Arls? Hi! Eyes open, okay?" He calls again when I find the strength to blink my eyes open. "Have you...?"
Swallowing thickly, Harry darts his eyes to the white powder left over on the table.
I swallow, trying not to throw up on him.
"Have you taken anything?"
I shake my head, blinking again.
That's a lie but he would be upset with me.
"You sure, Trouble?"
I nod again, finding the ability somewhere inside of me.
"Jon's..."
"Is it Jon's?"
I nod.
"Okay, okay." He hums again, his hand still holding mine but I feather my eyes shut and fall asleep.
"Arls, eyes open for me, okay?"
I'm so tired.
"Arlie?"
I'm okay.
"Arls, I'm right here, okay?"
I'm tired though.
★
"Hi, Trouble."
It's the first thing I hear when I open my eyes to the blinding brightness of the room.
My back hurts when I try to sit up but my body aches more while laying on whatever hard surface that I am on.
"Easy," His voice drifts into my ears as I place my shaky hands behind me and push so that I am sitting up.
Blinking away the sleep, I look around me to find the familiar tiles of my bathroom at home.
Cold underneath my palms and hard underneath my legs, I frown, wondering how I managed to get here.
Looking down at myself, my eyebrows furrow in disarray that I am now in an old T-shirt and a pair of shorts from the very back of my closet.
Darting my eyes to Harry's with urgency, I grimace and pinch at the material of my T-shirt. The silent question causes Harry to shake his head in reply.
"Priya changed you. I waited outside."
I nod wordlessly, analysing him as he sits on the other side of the bathroom. Hunched on the floor, his knees are raised to his chest and his arms cross over themselves and lay on top.
"W-" My throat is so dry that it feels like it has been lined with sandpaper and swallowing is an impossible task.
"Oh, here!" Diving to his feet, Harry lunges to take ahold of a filled glass of water that is resting on the side by the sink. "Little sips."
I take it grateful and ignore him while blissfully chugging down large gulps that soothe the inside of my throat and take away the raw burning feeling.
"Or not..."
Drinking the entire glass down in one, I look through the doorway of my en-suite into the bedroom to see Priya curled up on my bed facing the bathroom with her arms tucked up under her head to pillow her head.
"She umm-" Harry scratches at the back of his head. "She tried to stay awake but it got to about nine A.M. and she couldn't keep her eyes open so."
"She's fine." I just about choke out, not being able to find my normally powerful voice.
"What's the time now?" I mumble.
Tapping the screen of his phone, Harry looks down before telling me the time. "Nearly midday."
"Have you slept?"
Pressing his lips together, Harry shakes his head once.
The icy cold water hits my stomach and I feel a churning sensation roll through me as I whack my hand into my torso and try to force the sick to stay down. Lunging towards the toilet bowl, I flick the seat up quickly and then grab the rim of the toilet bowl in a desperate need to gain control.
Unable to do so, I start vomiting everything inside of my stomach back out and into the toilet bowl.
"Okay..." Harry's voice is drowned out by the sound of every drop of alcohol I consumed last night being catapulted back out of me and into the toilet.
I can't really hear him but I can feel his hands sweep up my long hair and hold it back from curtaining my face while the other rubs my back softly.
"Easy, Arls..."
Waves of sickness come and go for the next twenty minutes as I spew my guts up so violently that it wakes Priya up. She comes to join us for a while, taking over from Harry and holding my hair before she passes me back to him and goes to fetch me another glass of water.
Slumping back and feeling utterly empty, I rest my forehead against the rim of the toilet.
"What happened last night?" I cough, accepting the outstretched tissue he is passing my way.
"Ohh." Harry huffs out a deep breath. "Well, I turned up to Holland's party and walked into the room to find you and Jonathan in a rather... c-compromising position?"
My stomach drops again but this time it is not from the need to throw up, instead it is with deep embarrassment and anxiety.
"You walked in on us?"
Harry shakes his head, massaging his hands into the no doubt tense muscles behind his.
"Not exactly," He explains. "You were kind of just doing it in front of people and they were filming and Jonathan was pouring so much tequila down your throat that—"
I retch again. I can't tell if it is from knowing that people were watching and filming Jon and I or the mere mention of tequila. Either way, I dip my head down to the toilet bowl and throw up the water that I have been chugging like no one's business.
"Arls-"
"I'm fine," I grunt through my teeth, hating the note of sympathy present in his shrill voice.
His large hand lands on my back, trying to comfort me but now I brush him off, pushing him away, I feel him stumble back on the tiles behind me as I reach for my own wad of toilet paper to wipe my mouth.
Harry stands redundantly in the centre of the room with an uneasy expression residing on his face while he tries to calculate how to help me right now.
But I don't want help.
Flushing the toilet, I shut the seat and glare up at him.
"I don't need your help!"
"I just–"
Shaking my head, I stand up and after taking a second to gain my balance, I storm out of the bathroom and into my bedroom. I don't turn back to look at Harry but I can hear him following after me with slow and hesitant steps.
"Stop following me, Harry!" I grit through my teeth. "Why are you even in my house? Priya is here, I don't need you here!"
"I–"
"No." I spin on my heel to turn and face him. "Jon was probably high or drunk or fuck knows what and I can hear the accusation in your voice, Harry. You need to stop! I'm not your responsibility! I don't need saving and I don't need you to feel sorry for me that I was about to fuck my boyfriend at a party while I was drunk!"
Why am I defending Jonathan?
"Arlie?" He scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. "You're not seriously condoning this behaviour are you?"
"Fuck off, Harry!"
"No!" He stands his ground, raising his eyebrows. "This isn't you! You don't just let people walk all over them and use you as some kind of sex puppet. He shouldn't have even been doing lines in front of you when he knows you're a recovering addict!"
Shaking my head, I step back away from him and grimace at his words.
"You don't know me anymore," I mutter under my breath as I back away from him until my back slams into the far wall of my room.
I have put such a distance between myself and Harry and yet I still feel like his presence is suffocating me.
"What?"
Shaking my head, I stare at him through narrowed eyes. "You don't know me anymore. It's been four years and I have changed. You don't know me."
"You're right." He snarks. "You have changed because the Arlie Addams that I knew would not have taken this shit from anyone, especially some ancient fucker."
"That's your director!" I growl. "I wonder what he would think about you calling him that? I don't think he would be too impressed now, would he?"
Harry scoffs, flapping his hand dismissively in my direction. "Go ahead and tell him, Arlie! I don't care anymore. You've pushed away each of my attempts at friendships or forgiveness or even just being civil with each other and I don't care anymore."
I stand still, watching as he paces up and down the length of my room.
"You're so much better than this and you're just accepting crap from people who should be worshipping the ground you work on."
"Stop it!" I blurt out before I have a chance to stop myself. "Stop, just fucking stop, Harry!"
He stops pacing and holds his hands up around his face in surrender before walking backwards out of my bedroom door. "I'm stopping..."
I sigh, taking three quick steps towards him before I realise what I am doing and root my feet into the plush carpet.
"I'm going now, like you want..." He speaks quietly before turning on his heel and heading towards my staircase. "I'll see you at work, Arlie."
Not finding the right words to reply, I slump back onto my bed and the creased sheets that Priya was sleeping on earlier. My whole body deflates and I feel inconsolably sick all of a sudden.
My head hits back against the pillow and as it does, it feels like it knocks some sense back into me.
"Shit!"
Sitting up quickly, I spring from my bed and race down the stairs. I take two steps at a time, risking snapping an ankle and falling to my death in a bid to get there quicker but as I get to the final step, I hear the front door slam shut.
Around the corner, Priya's voice knowingly calls out. "You could still catch him if you run."
I shake my head, pressing my hand into my stomach.
"I wasn't–" I lie. "I wasn't chasing after him..."
"Okay," She tuts, not believing me for a second. "If you say so."
I follow her and her smug smile into my kitchen. The smell of nearly burning toast makes me feel sick to my stomach.
"Oh, Cleo?" I hum, seeing her perched on my countertop with her bleach blonde hair tied back into a ponytail and her eyes ringed with thick black eyeliner that has been blended out to look smokey. "I didn't realise you were here?"
"Was that your ex?" She questions, motioning her head in the direction of the door Harry just bolted through.
I nod stiffly, not liking where this is going.
She nods approvingly. "He's hot. I would get right back on that if I were you..."
I frown, walking slowly into the room as Pri works at buttering me a slice of fairly dry toast.
"...Cleo, aren't you like... only attracted to women?"
She nods happily with a grin. "A, I'm not sexually attracted to guitars but I can tell you when one is pretty. It's just an observation. He's a pretty guy. A lot prettier than Jonathan."
I hum, trudging my way over to the kitchen table.
"This is going to be a problem isn't it?" Priya asks me as she rests the plate in front of me. "Eat!" She instructs.
"What's going to be a problem?"
"You and Harry?"
I shake my head, nibbling on the end of the slice of toast. "There isn't a me and Harry."
She smiles at me, running her hand over my hair as her eyes flash with something unreadable.
"What's that look for?"
Shaking her head, she turns and walks away from me again with another muted hum.
"Nothing, nothing..."
But if there is one thing I know, it is that is most definitely not nothing.
this chapter was a lot so please look after yourselves,
love always, el <3