Dear Ollie
After the dinner at your house, the next two weeks flew by smoothly, without any problems. It was starting to get a little warmer outside, but other than that life was exactly the same. The topic of Will or your mother wasn’t mentioned again, and you and I returned to our normal joking around routine. However this smooth non-problematic life didn’t last very long.
I thought Friday the 16th of March would just be a normal day considering the past two weeks had been extremely normal and uneventful, but unfortunately I was wrong. The lunch bell had just rung and I was nonchalantly making my way back to the main building from the science block after Biology.
I was walking across the school courtyard when out of nowhere someone grabbed my arms and spun me round. I was about to start screaming and struggling, but then I realised it was only you.
“Oh, hey Ollie” I said with a bright smile.
You looked around cautiously before saying “I need to ask you something”
“Sure, what do you want?”
“Okay. Well, I’ve been in the doghouse with someone for a long time now, and I wondering since you’re a girl and everything, how would you want to make it up to you if I’d upset you?” I found your question ridiculously ironic because you had already been in my doghouse a number of times and you didn’t have to really do anything to get out of it because I couldn’t bring myself to stay mad at you, even though some of the things you had done were pretty unforgivable.
“Why are you asking now?”
“In a couple of weeks it’s someone’s birthday and I really want to see them, but this persons mother is really mad at me, and I want to be in her good books just long enough to be able to see my… I mean this certain someone” you explained. I didn’t miss your slip up, but I decided it’d be best if I didn’t question it.
“Have you tried saying sorry?” I wondered.
“What do you think” you answered sarcastically.
“Okay, okay, I admit that was a stupid question,” I mumbled looking down at my shoes “How long have you been in the doghouse?”
You nervously scratched your head “Almosttwoyears” you muttered almost too quickly for me to hear.
“I beg your pardon” I said, having to be sure I did hear you right.
“Almost two years,” you whispered, looking anywhere but at me.
“OLIVER HARRISON!” I screeched in shock. “WHAT DID YOU DO?!”
Two years was a long time to be in the doghouse; it made my day long grudges seem pathetic. In my mind all I was thinking at that point was what you’d done must have been terrible, or that the person in question was just one stubborn b*tch.
“What I did is again a very long, very personal story, which this time I would rather keep to myself” You told me with sincerity.
That statement got the cogs turning inside my head. It was the first thing I had asked you about, which you refused to explain, and I couldn’t help but begin to wonder what exactly your life was like before I showed up. I wanted to know how you differed from the person you were then, and what you had said or done to this poor woman to make her hate you so much.
“That’s okay. Now I suggest asking her to dinner, maybe?” I offered hesitantly.
“Tried that. It failed awfully” you deadpanned
“Oh, erm” I paused trying to think of more ideas “You could buy her flowers, most women love flowers” I said awkwardly shifting on the balls of my feet.
I really had no idea what to say to you. I wasn’t a very creative person. I had never really been in a situation like yours. Back in Australia I only had a few friends, and we never fought or got angry at each other. Admittedly my best friend Emma hadn’t said a word to me since I left, but that was a different situation entirely.
“Okay pickle, I can see this isn’t your forte, but thank you for trying” you smiled. A couple of seconds later you wrapped your arms around my waist and hugged me tightly to you. I instantly wrapped my arms around your neck before nestling my head against your chest.
For a few moments we stood peacefully in each other’s embrace. However what happened next changed my perspective on a lot of things.
“Ollie!” I heard an unknown voice bellow from behind me “What the fuck are you doing!”
At that moment everything was shattered into a million pieces. The relationship we’d built, my trust in you and how much I thought you cared about me came crashing down around me. Everything was broken.
One second I was cuddled in your arms, and the next I was plummeting towards the concrete floor. I’m not entirely sure what happened, but as soon as you heard the unknown voice you pushed me away from you as hard as you could, as if I was a flimsy rag doll.
I was taken by so much surprise that I lost my footing and fell backwards onto the floor, my head hitting the cold concrete with an unforgiving crack.
“I’m telling you mate, this one’s delusional! She just attacked me!” you said, making your friend burst out laughing.
Slowly I sat myself up, my head throbbing. I was trying so hard to contain the tears that so desperately wanted to run down my face. I couldn’t afford to make myself look weaker then I already did. I couldn’t believe you, I really couldn’t. Things had been going so well, and then you went and pulled a stunt like that, the one thing that would break my trust barrier. You physically hurt me, and that was the one thing you promised never to do.
Did you even realise when you walked off that I’d cut my head? A rock or something had cut my temple and thick red blood was oozing out of the scrape. Did you not realise, or did I genuinely mean that little to you? Was I being naive believing you actually cared about me?
“That’s alright, you just had me worried for a moment there. I thought you were willingly hugging the freak” your friend said, chuckling to himself in that arrogant, ‘I’m better then you’ way.
“Naa mate, she’s too much of a freak for my liking. Plus she comes from a broken family,” you paused, moving in closer to your friends ear “her dad’s in prison” you whispered, although, I still heard you. I couldn’t believe you’d told him that. I’d told you that in confidence. I didn’t want people to know my father was in jail, the same way I didn’t want people to know I suffered from depression. People would treat me weirdly and I didn’t want that. Not to mention I didn’t want people questioning why he was in prison, or trying to find out themselves. They could probably pretty easily find the story on the internet if they knew my father’s name.
“No way” your friend replied with wide eyes, and with that you both burst out laughing, before walking off in the direction of the car park. I don’t know where you went after that. I can only remember you turning your head to me and giving me a pleading look before disappearing round the corner with your unknown friend.
Once you were gone, tears began to furiously fall down my face. And you know what, I didn’t even try to stop them because what you did hurt, it hurt so freaking much. Our relationship changed that day. My walls that I had slowly began to let down for you had skyrocketed higher than ever before, and for a while I really thought it would be the end of our friendship.
For ages I sat up against the wall at the side of the courtyard, on the floor in a blubbering heap of pity. Eventually though I pulled myself up off the floor and into the main building in search of Taylor. Although I couldn’t tell Taylor what had happened, she would try to help, even in the state I was in.
Taylor was sitting in the library reading a book when I found her, and to be frank, I was a mess. I had dried blood covering the right side of my face and puffy blood, shot eyes from where I had failed to stop myself from crying.
You may be thinking I sound pathetic, but honestly that time I genially don’t think I was. I had let my walls down for you, I put myself in a vulnerable position for you, and you chucked it all back in my face.
“Taylor,” I whimpered as I approached her in the book clad, musky smelling library.
The moment she heard my voice her head snapped in my direction, her eyes instantly growing large with shock. “Ammie, Ammie what happened?” Taylor whispered softly getting up and pulling me into a hug. However that hug just made everything worst, because I felt used. I felt used, stupid and childish, and that wasn’t a feeling I had full blown felt since before my father was sent to prison.
I screamed and started struggling, before shouting in a flustered panic “Let me go! Let me go! Please, let me go!”
Taylor instantly unwrapped herself from me and took a couple of steps back. “Honey, what happened to you?” Taylor whispered. I didn’t answer. I just sank into the chair that Taylor had previously been sitting in and for the second time that day broke down crying.
Honestly I don’t remember much after that. I somehow ended up in the head teachers office, sat in a big comfy chair with a blanket wrapped around my shoulders and a worried Mrs Hobb giving me a sympathetic smile as she tried to coax me into telling her what was wrong and how id cut my head. I didn’t tell her though, I couldn’t tell her. As much as I wanted to I couldn’t, because for some fucked up reason some part of me wanted to protect you, and I hated myself for that.
I felt numb and withdrawn. I didn’t say anything to Mrs Hobb and eventually she called my mother. The next thing I remember is sitting on a bus, my mum sitting right beside me trying to persuade me to talk to her, but I didn’t say anything to her either. I sat on the inside seat, my head pressed against the rain streaked window staring in a daze at the bustling Harrow streets bellow.
After the bus journey I remember being in my bed. I remember being curled up in a ball under the covers still in my school clothes staring at the plain wall opposite me. I didn’t move for hours. I just lied there. I wasn’t crying, or screaming, or shouting. I was just lying there with a blank expression, feeling numb.
My mum came in at some point and said something, but I don’t know what she said. I just unconsciously nodded me head. I know now that she had told me she had to go to work.
For what I’m guessing was an hour I lied in my bed, without even realising I was in my house all on my own. The first time the doorbell rung I didn’t hear it, however the second time it made me jump out of my skin. After the third ring I realised it was only the doorbell, so I curled back up into a ball, presuming my mum would answer the door. But no one did answer the door and the doorbell kept chiming over and over again. I curled up into and even tighter ball in the corner of my bed and suddenly found it hard to breathe.
It was then that I realised that I was home alone and I began to freak. My breathing became panicky, my body began to tremble and tears began to rim my eyes.
After that my memory draws a blank and the next thing I remember is being wrapped up tightly in someone’s arms. My natural reaction was to squirm and shriek, but before I really began to panic a soothing voice whispered in my ear “Shhhh it’s me, I’m here. Nothing bad is going to happen to you”. At the sound of your husky voice I began to cry, and automatically, I started balling my fists into your shirt in reassurance that you were really there. I took comfort in your presence and snuggled myself into a small ball in your lap.
However all good things come to an end, and after a couple of silent minutes of taking in the comfort of your arms wrapped around me, the events of earlier in the day slammed me in the chest, like high speed bullets from a gun.
“Get off me!” I screamed, unclenching my fists from your shirt. I then started punching you in the chest as hard as I could in a desperate attempt to get you off of me; but you refused. You only wrapped your arms tighter around me because you thought I was going into some state of hysteria. In a way I was, but not the type of hysteria you thought I was going into. I was going into hysteria because you’d hurt me and you were acting as if nothing had even happened, like you’d never pushed me over and left me crying on the floor.
“Shhhh, everything’s okay now,” you cooed going to stroke my cheek, but before you got the chance I’d slapped your hand away and I was struggling to get out of your grasp. The more I struggled though, the tighter you seemed to hold me. At one point it felt like you were trying to restrain me rather than comfort me.
“I said get off me!” I screamed once again, tears trailing down my face. I was in a state of blind panic trying to get away from you and your disgusting touch “get off me! Get off me! Get. Off. Of. Me!” I shrieked over and over again.
Eventually my repetitive punching got too much for you and your grip slightly faltered. At that moment I took the opportunity to break out of your grip and jump off your lap. I backed into the corner of my room and bent over putting my hands on my knees as more tears spilled down my face and the hysterical sobbing continued.
“Ammie, you need to calm down” You said sternly getting off the bed and slowly making your way towards me. As you edged closer to me I didn’t do anything, I just stayed bent over, but when you finally reached me and went to touch my face, I snapped.
“I hate you! I hate you so fucking much! Get out of my house!” I roared in anger, all signs of my earlier hysteria washed out the window and replaced by pure and utter fury.
It outraged me how you were acting as if nothing had happened earlier in the day. What you did that time was not something I was going to get over lightly, and I was going to make that as clear as possible to you.
“Pickle, whats…”
But before you could finish I cut you off “You have no right to be here! I trusted you! I believed you when you said you cared for me, and you lied to me! You fucking lied to me!” I shouted, angrily throwing punches at your chest. After a couple of moments I took in a deep breath and let out a defeated sigh “I can’t keep doing this Ollie, I can’t keep acting like you don’t hurt me. You can’t just come in here a couple of hours after pretending you hate me, acting as if nothing happened. I can’t be in any kind of relationship like that, so if you wouldn’t mind, please could you leave” I said softly, feeling slightly defeated.
“Ammie I don’t mean to hurt you, but you’ve got to understand that to keep Courtney happy, I’ve got to pretend I hate you. I can’t muck things up with her” and with that sentence, the fire inside me was reignited.
“See! That’s exactly what I’m talking about! You don’t care that I’m hurting! You’re so ignorant that you don’t even feel the need to say sorry! I don’t deserve to be treated like this! So what if your ‘oh so perfect, bimbo girlfriend’ hates me. Be a bloody man and stand up to her!” I barked in aggravation.
You ran a shaky hand through your dishevelled hair “Ammie, please…”
“NO!” I shouted cutting you off “I don’t care what you have to say! Get out of my house before I call the police!”
“Pickle…” you murmured softly.
“Don’t ‘Pickle’ me. I said get out and I meant it!”
“It doesn’t have to be this way” you whispered, almost as if you were in pain.
“Until you grow up and grow a pair, yes it does!” I shouted my patience growing thinner and thinner by the second “Now you have ten seconds to get out of my house before I call the police… 1 … 2…” I began sternly with a hand on my hip.
“Okay, okay. I’m going” You said bowing your head in defeat.
Finally you turned on your feet and headed towards my bedroom door, but just before you were about to leave you turned back to face me “I am sorry,” you said quietly. After that you were out of my room and then you were out of my life.
Once I was sure you had left I fell back against the wall and sank to the floor, tears once again filling my eyes. No matter how angry I was at you, telling you to leave was one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do.
Love always, Ammie x