- f o u r -
Taylor stood in front of her mirror.
Her reflection depicted a wounded figure, broken on the outside and shattered on the inside.
After having her last encounter with Scott, he hit the spot right under her eye with one of his fists.
Now the flesh was reddened and soon to turn into a shade of violet.
On her face also lied a trace of dried tears.
It was funny once she thought about it, she no longer minded the hits.
Although Scott thought she cried of physical pain, he was wrong.
She was tired, exhausted of coming home in fear. Having to face him this way almost every night.
Her blue ponds tired of crying.
But she didn't know what else to do, what else was there?
As always the answer was the same;
Nothing.
Nothing was ever worth anything.
No, scratch that.
She was never worth anything.
She flinched as the pain surged through her whilst trying to cover up her aid with concealer.
Yet again she'd let him get the best out of her.
Although, she never did anything wrong for him to be like this to her.
She wondered just what exactly went through his mind when he did those things.
In the end it didn't matter.
Taylor couldn't change Scott, whether she wanted to or not.
Taking a deep breathe she sat on the corner of her bed.
She needed time to think, time to rest her mind to what was out beyond her every single day.
And to cry without Scott listening and humiliating her for it, calling her weak. But after all she was a woman, she could cry all she wanted and it would be justified. His permission was clearly not needed for anything.
She wanted to write in her journal, to scribble down with words what she felt constantly.
What burned the ends of her heart to be tranquiled and soothed after.
To feel her mind clear out and feel that ever so wonderful feeling of rest on the inside.
After she wrote, her heart felt lighter and the feeling to cry was no longer present.
Always having to hide the journal from Scott's proximity made her tired, it was completely absurd that she couldn't keep what meant to her the most out of danger of him destroying it, just like he did to her.
She needed a quiet place where she knew that he wouldn't burst in and shatter her again.
Slowly heading towards the door, she peeked through it silently and listened.
Nothing.
Feeling relief wash overhead, Scott was already asleep, giving her the opportunity to go somewhere.
She wasn't sure where, but somewhere but here.
Carefully, she took her black coat and bag, she hid the journal in one of the inside pockets and headed towards the back door.
Seeing Scott thrown over the couch, made her feel guilty, even if he was cruel, he was still her father. It was unfortunate that after having such a wonder family, things would have to turn out to be like that.
But it's what he chose to make it.
Heading into the already late evening, she slowly shuts the door behind her and heads out.
The now night busy street is filled with people walking from dinners and their walks.
Almost everyone she saw pass by her had someone to walk with. But her, of course she was alone.
A feeling of loneliness dropped to the pit of her stomach and she once again felt like crying.
At times she felt angry, angered at her self for being so sensitive and emotional.
Why in the damn do I have to cry so much?
She had to understand herself, but sometimes crying wasn't the answer all the time, she had nothing else she could do. It was the only way she could partially cure her own and not suffocate within herself.
She silently paced through the gritted sidewalk and crunching leaves under her wine colored oxfords. The cold breeze caressed her features softly.
Slowing down to a warm seeming shop, she read the orange lighted letters above.
"Coffee Nights"
The bright inside allured her attention, the window led in a view of the inside.
Booths all along the sides and simple wooden tables covering the center. Black tiled floors resembled a rustic 70's look, all menu items written on a chalkboard near the register. Glad that there was only a few customers now inside, she stepped in.
Instantly the aromas of freshly brewed coffee filled her nostrils, comfort washing over making her feel secure and safe. It was warm inside compared to the chilly outside. Her heart felt warmed and welcome.
Within closing the door behind her a small bell on it rung a sweet sound, sitting in a small chair behind the register sat the boy with the broom. The same boy from this morning.
To her luck, he had his nose inside a book and had been to focused too notice. At least she wouldn't embarrass herself again.
But what were the odds? Did he work here?
Probably.
Taylor headed quietly towards one of the wooden tables in the center. Her shoes barely making audible sound seated her in a chair, facing towards the boy.
As she sat down, the old chair made a squeaking sound, calling the boy's attention.
Taylor carefully dug through her bag and pulled out her old journal and pen. Situating herself she finally felt at peace. Slowly she began to write.
'I walked through the door with you the air was-'
Interrupting her in mid sentence, the boy with the scruffed curly hair, called to her attention with a giant smile on his face.
"Hello, may I take your order, love?"
Confused, she replied.
"Umm. I-I don't-"
"It's a coffee shop! Aren't you going to order something? After all, I do remember you from this morning, the least you could do is buy my coffee."
The boy gifted her with a big smile, but she was just once again embarrassed that he had remembered her.
"I'm so so sorry, I didn't mean to come off as rude I really didn't."
Nervousness in her voice evident, he noticed how she kept tucking her light strands of golden hair behind her ear.
He gave a sweet chuckle.
"It's okay, it was completely my mistake. You're so lovely I doubt you did it on purpose anyhow."
Avoiding eye contact with him, her cheeks flushed a rose tone at his compliment.
Taylor timidly answered.
"I-I guess."
"Alright then, what will the lovely lady have today?"
His sense of feeling and happiness made her feel tingly inside. For she had never met anyone like this before.
Have anyone be this nice to her was foreign, especially this quickly and after having their run-in.
"I'll have a cup of coffee with milk and extra cream."
She stated whilst looking down and her nervous hands and once again, tucked her hair back.
The boy looked downwards tenderly and smiled.
"My favorite."
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