"The problem is, fairytales don't come true. It's the nightmares that always seem to become reality."
-Grey Anatomy
I don't want to go in. I never want to go into that damned house, aka my home. Ironic because a home is supposed to be a safe haven, somewhere I can find refuge in no matter what. No, this is a hellhole that resides a familiar-faced stranger I have the displeasure of calling my mother.
Often I feel pathetic for becoming sick to my stomach everytime I pull into the driveway. After all, there's people out there who have it a million times worse. Shouldn't I consider myself lucky I don't have bruises painting my skin? Perhaps, yet words have power too, the difference is the bruises heal but these words will forever be engraved in my mind, in my bones, in my heart. So maybe we both have terrible wounds, just different ones.
I glance at her car and then at the house smothered in eerie shadows. My hands tremble as I climb out of my truck, knowing there's absolutely no chance of avoiding her tonight. The cool breeze brushes my hair from my shoulder as I walk toward the small two-story building. The pastel yellow paint is beginning to peel on the exterior wall beside the door. I run my finger over it and watch the old paint chip and fall to the porch beside my feet, lost somewhere in the dark.
I breathe in deeply as I fumble with my keys and unlock the door. The front room is pitch black, leaving me on edge as I close the door behind me as quiet as I possibly can. I tip toe deeper into the dark, my eyes refusing to adjust and leaving me blind to my surroundings.
A faint light flickers on and there she is- sitting in our plush midnight blue chair next to the long rectangular window hidden behind dusty blinds. My stomach drops at the cruel smile painting her blood red lips. "Where were you?" Her tone is low and dangerous as the words crawl out of her mouth.
Seems like an innocent question, yet she knows where I was because I told her this morning. This is just the beginning of her little game, the way she twists the truth and creates an image of me as someone entirely different. "I was at Alexis', I told you that already," I can't help but cringe at the bitterness that somehow slips into my tone.
Her eyes narrow and my stomach twists at the fury in those black black depths. Her eyes could give even the toughest of men nightmares, they're wicked as well as an inky black color that has more resemblance to a demons than a humans.
She stands, so slowly like the world is moving on her time, before prancing toward me. "Felicity, sweetie, there's no use in lying to me," I keep quiet, arguing I learned early on only makes everything that much worse. I squirm at her close proximity and want nothing more than to push her away but I know better than that, so instead I keep my hands to myself.
She tilts her head to the side, this is all some sort of sick entertainment for her and I hate it. "Sluts like you do one thing and one thing alone- fuck. So who was it this time?" It's been years but it still stings like a slap to the cheek each time.
Pathetically I still hope, I still wish, that one day she'll change. That she'll become the mother I always needed instead of the woman who breaks me down every chance she gets. Funny how the one person who's supposed to love me the most, is the one that does the least.
She shakes her head and chuckles, amusement glittering in those irises. Slowing she walks around me, examining me from head to toe and judging every little feature, like bacteria beneath a microscope. "Then again, you sure ain't pretty enough for any man to willing be with you."
My throat is bone dry as I swallow thickly and level her stare with one of my own. I learned a long time ago not to take anything she says personally, but some days it's harder than others to do that. A false pensive expression coats her features like a flimsy halloween mask. "So tell me darling, who is possibly desperate enough to sleep with you?" Her hand falls on my shoulder, ice cold and sickly thin.
Gritting my teeth, I try to keep my tone neutral. "I wasn't fucking anyone, I was with Alexis." I try to keep my reactions minimal, she feeds off my pain and I refuse to give her the satisfaction. Hiding my emotions became second-nature sometime over the years and the tears stopped falling a long time ago, it's better this way.
Without a word I turn away from her. Fighting back won't change a thing, it's not worth my energy. I almost miss the next words she mutters, I wish I had. "No wonder your father left you," My movements falter as I come to a halt and my heart pounds in my ears as disbelief floods my vein. My mother's cruel but I never imagined she'd use my father against me. It was a line she had never crossed, until now that is.
I lean closer to hear what she has to say next. I don't know why I do it, it's foolish and will only hurt me but I can't seem to control myself. "He got lucky. Never had to see your face or deal with you, if only I had done the same thing than I wouldn't have wasted the last seventeen years of my life on a mistake," Her voice lowers as if she's talking to herself. "Should've left when I had the chance." My hands shake; of course she would pick today to dig into my biggest insecurity.
I've spent a lifetime wondering why I wasn't good enough for my dad, and I'll spend a lifetime more pretending I couldn't care less. But it's all a lie, like everyone needs a mom they need a dad too, and I don't have either.
When I was younger I was eager to learn about him and more than anything I wanted to meet him. To breathe in his scent and feel his arms wrapped around me. Did he have my same eyes, a dark slate color with a tint of teal blue in the center? Did he possess my same taste for adventure? Or would he be just like my mother, sadistic and manipulative?
At one point, Mom gave me a name, maybe she was sick of my asking or perhaps she was simply bored. Either way, I searched long and hard for this man, Michael Davidson, but I was set up for failure from the get-go. The name was fake, just a way to get me to shut up and give her amusement as I chased after a man who didn't exist.
Eventually that wide-eyed little girl grew up, she gave up the hopeless dream and moved on with her life. Because sometimes parents leave and sometimes they don't want to be found. Plus, if he wanted to meet me there's nothing stopping him from doing so.
As I walk to my room I wonder if my mother was always this person, or if something caused her to become this way. Was it my father? After all she always appears terribly haunted at the mention of him, like there's so much more to this than I'll ever know. Maybe if I knew I'd understand her better, why she treats me the way she does, why her heart is hardened to stone.
My bedroom door shuts with a quiet click, successfully canceling out her vicious words. I wish I had the courage to pack up my belongings and walk out of this house, never to return. Instead, trepidation has settled into my bones, leaving me trapped here with a woman who could never love me and a heart about to burn out. With nowhere to go and a bank account running low, escaping isn't a practical option.
I've been left with no other choice then to pretend. Pretend her brutality doesn't feel like a stab to the chest, every single time without fail. Pretend everything is okay when that couldn't be further from the truth. This is all pretend, my whole life is one hidden truth after another.
I hate how numb I've become to the abuse. It's sad, really, how we can grow so accustomed to something we shouldn't have to deal with in the first place. But we all do what we have to in order to survive and it's easier to pretend then face the truth. Falling onto my bed. I stare up at the popcorn ceiling. Letting go of a lengthy and weary sigh, I allow myself to think of the future, of a different life, a better life.
Tap. Tap.
I pause, my thoughts forgotten at the noise.
Tap. Tap.
With caution and curiosity, I stand from my lying position and quietly walk to my window. Trees stand tall, the forest behind my house dark with shadows as I peak outside. "Fel!" My eyes shoot down at the deep and familiar tone. With a shit-eating grin and a lazy stance, Roman appears every ounce nonchalant as he waits she me to open the window.
Raising the glass up, a gust of freezing air bounces inside and wraps around my body as I lift an eyebrow at him. Moonlight bathes his hair in a milky hue causing him to appear to glow and look unearthly.
"Roman?" I draw slowly, unsurely. "What are you doing here?" My breath catches as his rosey lips perk up into a half smile that is identical to Damon's. Suddenly, I wish he would leave because everything about him reminds me of the one person I'm desperate to forget.
He looks every bit of trouble as he crosses his arms across his chest. "Baby I'm here for you." Winking up at me I return his gesture by rolling my eyes. Once a flirt, always a flirt I suppose, even when it comes to your brothers ex.
I lean my palms on the windowsill. "Seriously, what do you want?" Immediately he sobers up, his smile fading as his forehead wrinkles in worry.
This can't be good. "We need to talk." My instinct is to the close the window on him, instead my fingers curl around the wood, gripping it like my life depends on it.
Laughing awkwardly, I hope he can't tell how much I despise the idea. "Well at least I know I'm not about to get dumped," I joke half-heartedly. "What is it?" Abrupting banging erupts from the other side of my shut door.
My gaze whips down to Roman than back toward my door. "Who the hell are you talking to? Your whiney voice is giving me a headache." Panic consumes my every motion as my eyes dart back to Roman. He cocks his head to the side as curiosity pools into his expression. Of course, I wouldn't be surprised if the whole street heard her shrill words.
We stare at each other for a long moment and I hear my mother's footsteps disappear down the hall. Roman starts to open his mouth but I cut him off my shaking my head. "Right now's not a good time," I say finally. "Sorry I've gotta go." My words come out fast and jumbled before I close the window, not waiting for his response.
I exhale deeply and watch as he continues to stare at me for a long second before hesitantly leaving my backyard. "Fuck," I mumble, whilst running a shaky palm through my hair. I've been so careful, so damn careful about hiding my mother's true colors and now that's all ruined. Some might just leave it be, but Roman isn't one of those people and I have no doubt he'll stop at nothing until he gets the truth.
I don't tell people about my mom for a reason. No one really cares about my problems, they just like to know that someone's life is more screwed up than theirs. I've worked this hard to keep my secret and I'll be damned if Roman Caldwell is the first person to figure it all out. He may be determined, but for me it's crucial that he doesn't find out the truth.
Authors Note:
A little more serious, but it gives a little insight of what Felicity's home-life is like. Seriously though emotional abuse is never okay, don't think it is just because you can't necessarily see it. And if you're going through it make sure to tell somebody, don't keep it hidden.
And on a lighter note as you can see I changed my updating day to Wednesday instead of Tuesday. This chapter had a little more Roman in it, what do you guys think of him so far? Tell me in the comments and please please vote if you enjoyed this chapter!!
Thanks for reading!! :)