A/N: This is from Sharpay's POV. It's a little confusing to understand, it didn't come out the way I had hoped but, the reviews I've gotten so far have been excellent so hopefully you all appreciate it. Thanks for the reviews.
It's a lonely world when you find yourself reminiscing on 'what if's' and 'why didn't I's', you could drive yourself crazy wondering why you just aren't perfect and the stupid reasons why you used to think you were. When everything was going your way why bother with friends? Why bother dating someone that actually loves you? After all, Mommy always said: 'If he doesn't have the money, it's not worth the effort.'
Good ol' Mother dearest, she really loved you, didn't she? 'It's in your best interests that I tell you these things, it's because I love and care about you, Kitten.' She forgot to tell you the part that says after nineteen years of marriage, you leave your husband for a younger man; a younger, richer man who just happens to be your husband's new trainee intern. How lovely.
But then again, you never really trusted her, did you? Coming home to find her being ravished by her toyboy in the same bed she shared with your father for fifteen years. She used to call herself a real lady; she used to say 'real ladies like me' don't beg. You listened to her beg. 'Harder, faster, harder!' And if her screams of 'Oh God' and 'Yes, baby, like that!' weren't enough to make you sick to your stomach, having to watch your father walk in and discover such a sight broke your heart. Listening to them scream at each other in the hallway, you were willing him on. 'Hit her! Get it over with' You swore to yourself you'd have done it if he didn't…
Walking in on him days later, hunched over his desk, crying over paperwork thrown across the black wooden worktop, bottle in hand; now you know, you should've said something.
You can hear her taunting you, laughing at how pathetic you must look; outside the steps of your once 'dream home', doubled over, head in your hands; tears dripping through your fingers, reminiscent to that of the paradise you used to thrive on. Those that walked by and saw you either tut in sympathy or cheered in rejoice. 'Ding, Dong, the Wicked Witch is Dead!' You could've looked up and put on a brave face, smiled and applauded their efforts to disown you. But you just cried harder.
Every set of footsteps was like a dagger through your heart, their laughing and jeering was them twisting the blade. When quietness submerged you, you could feel a pair of eyes burning a hole in you. The last person you expected to see staring in your face was the last notch in your bedpost. And the second last and the third last and the fourth last…you couldn't stay away from him.
Strolling towards you, a look of pain in his eyes, you begin to wonder why the hell he keeps coming back. He lives a happy life, parents love him, has a good job and his friends would take a bullet for him. Why does he bother with you? You swear to yourself you won't budge.
He wraps an arm around you and pulls you into his embrace, you start to pull away but he tightens his grip. The countless nights you spent tossing and turning in his bed you made it clear you don't like being roughed. He never obliged, you never declined. Here and now you're broken and you're finally willing to admit that you were wrong. But he still won't give you an inch. He pulls you against him and won't let you go. You try to push him away but he's much stronger, you slap him, he takes it and stares back at you. And for the first time you look into his eyes and see the pain. It's not for himself; it startles you to see the pain in him is for you.
A release, a weight being lifted, it feels so good to breathe. You look up at him, his dark face looming down on yours; you want to beg him to never let you go. Her voice rings in your ears, 'real ladies like me don't beg, kitten'. She destroyed your life, she destroyed you; she can't destroy what she's not here to witness.
Before evolution there must be destruction, without it, you could not rebuild.