Blessed To Have You
He was always there to catch her when she stumbled. But things change, secrets are hidden, and a veil of lies blocks out the pain adorning her eyes. Rated M for abuse&self-harm. –NiLEY-
I guess I should be happy. I've finally escaped him. Finally. I should be ecstatic, I should be over the moon, and I should be full of joy.
But I'm not.
What's wrong with me?
Maybe it's because from an outside point of view, everything has been done and dealt with, but the truth it, nothing's really changed. I'm still going to have those nightmares, and I'm still going to shrink in fear everytime I see anyone who looks remotely like him. I'm still going to feel the pain every day, and I'm still going to wake up alone. I'm still alone in this world. I still have no one who cares for me. I still haven't told anyone the whole story. I still haven't spoken.
Then I ask myself, why don't you talk Miley? Maybe I'm asking myself this question because I've become so accustomed to it, since it seems to be the question that everyone asks me, and if they happen to be polite enough not to, well their facial expressions say enough. I can see them analyzing me; trying to figure out what it is that caused me to turn into the person I am today.
I'm still trying to figure that out myself.
Maybe it's because I took everything for granted. I didn't realize that perhaps, I was the luckiest girl in the world. I had everything and I didn't even realize it. Maybe it was because I took him for granted. I never appreciated what Nick did for me, and the honest truth is, I drove him away. I can't blame for this situation beside from myself. It's all my fault.
It's always my fault.
As if on cue, a familiar curly-haired boy appeared in the doorway, his hands stuffed in his pocket as he looked me over, thinking how to approach me. I guess that's another thing I've become quite accustomed to. And honestly, I can't blame Nick for the way he's looking at me... not after yesterday.
"What's wrong with you Miley?" He exclaimed, grabbing both of my hands and knocking the substances out of them. I struggled in his grip, wondering why I was even bothering. Why was I bothering trying to hide anything from him now? He knew everything, he saw everything. He knew.
"I'm sorry." He spoke out, bringing me out of my flashbacks. He held my gaze for a second, before hesitatingly walking inside and sitting himself beside me on my small single bed. "I didn't want it to be like this, I didn't want you to end up here again, trust me, that's the last thing I wanted."
It figures that we wouldn't understand that there was a small part of me that was glad to be back here. It's the closest thing to a home I have left. These people, they were almost glad to see me. It's been so long since someone's been happy to see my face, no strings attached. Nick, he just feels sorry for me, and soon he's going to realize it. I'm dreading the day he does, because then, I truly will be alone.
The glass shattered to the ground, and the liquid seeped through the carpet. For a moment I thought he was back... I began to weep in fear.
"Hey." He spoke softly; recognizing the familiar look in my eyes, as he gently took a hold of my hand, grazing it with his thumb. He paused. "You know, I'm not sure what's worse right now, him hurting you, or you hurting yourself." He then took his other hand and used it to tenderly rub the bruise present on my left cheek.
Nothing hurts when he's around.
"You know, when I said we were done, I didn't mean it." He let his hand drop into my lap. "Well, I did, but only because... it felt like you were completely closing me off. You wouldn't ever tell me anything, I mean, you wouldn't even talk!" He shook his head, and I'm not sure if it was at me, or at himself. "I know I sound so insensitive when I say that, but I had no idea why you stopped talking, I had no idea all of this shit was going on in your life, it just felt like I didn't know you anymore."
I didn't want to listen anymore. It hurt listening to him tell me about how I was hurting him, it hurt much more than the physical pain I would experience in the past thanks to.. him. I'm still unable to say his name, I can't, and the name sickens me. I've been told that this means I'm still in denial, but that doesn't make sense to me. How can I be in denial? He sure woke me up every single fucking day. I've never experienced so much pain in my whole life time as I have the past.. I don't even know how long it went on. I don't even know what the date is today.
I don't know anything anymore.
I heard him sigh, drawing my attention back to him and neglecting my pessimistic, negative thoughts. "Didn't you trust me enough Miley?" He asked in a voice that made me feel like a splinter of glass had just been hurled through my chest. I shook my head at him, giving the best response I possibly could. It wasn't true; I would trust him with my life. But I couldn't tell him, and to this day I don't understand why. Maybe I just didn't want to be a burden.
I wanted him to love me because he wanted to, not because he felt obliged to.
"Then why didn't you tell me?" He asked, leaning forward so his familiar smell filled my nostrils. Clean laundry and new leather- all the good boy smells. "I could've helped Miley; it didn't have to go on for so long. You could've come and stayed with my mum and I, we could've worked it out... it didn't have to be this way."
I know, I wanted to tell him. But I can't. I can't even convince myself to open my mouth, let alone say something. Perhaps because I was afraid of what might come out, or perhaps I was afraid of letting anyone know what I feel.
I'm afraid.
"I still love you, you know that? I never stopped, and I never will." He spoke with such confidence that I almost believed him. Almost.He sighed again, a defeated sigh."I guess I'll go then." He slowly got up and began to walk away.
I watched his retreating figure with despair. I wanted him to say. I wanted to tell him how afraid I felt. I wanted to tell him how I was on the edge. I wanted to tell him how I felt giving up. I wanted to tell him how he was the only one who could make me feel safe.
"Stay."
I watched him freeze in place, and then slowly turn around in surprise, and it was then when I realized that that was my voice that had just spoken out. I was surprised myself. Honestly, I thought I might have forgotten how to speak. I didn't recognize my own voice anymore.
He quickly took back his place next me, a look of surprise still painted on his face. "If you want me to stay..." He began in a soft whisper. "I will."
"I-" The words got stuck in my throat, a desperate look on my face. He took my hand again. "I've got so much to tell you."
B l e s s e d T o H a v e Y o u –
Hi there! Okay, so firstly, sorry for that piece of shit above! :') This is a new story, and it's kind of darker than what I usually do, but I've wanted to do a story like this for like forever. I've read amazing ones on here but there aren't many. I think abuse and self-harm are such good topics to write about, because, they're real. These things happen and some people are just kind of in denial. Obv I don't self-harm and my parents are the bomb, not abusive retards, but I'm trying to put myself in the shoes of a person who's went through this. So please, I know you might not want to read about this, but I'd seriously appreciate if you read and reviewed. I won't be doing any really descriptive abuse scenes because, well I'm quite squeamish, I don't want to do that because it'd be a horrible experience for me :| But yeah please R&R! Oh and this is kind of like a prologue, the rest of the story is like, well her telling Nick the story from the start till this point. The italics were flash backs by the way. Thank you guys for reading. I'll still be doing all my other stories, obviously :) I won't really properly do this story till TPC is finished. I'd like about 15-20 reviews to continue and do this story? REVIEWS ARE APPRECIATED SO MUCH!