Hey guys! I really hope you like it so far! By the way, the story kind of takes on a little bit of a more intense content in this chapter. Don't worry, there's nothing really vivid or anything, but up until now the story probably could have been rated K even though I put it in as T, and in this chapter it sort of lives up to the teen rating. Just wanted to let you guys know! This is a HUGE part of the story even though it's a short chapter, so please let me know what you think!

Chapter 10

"Your—your father?" Al demanded. "W- What happened?"

Once she had said admitted that her father was a criminal, the secrets suddenly gushed out like blood from an open wound.

"Albus, you might want to sit down," she said quietly, sliding onto a bench on the sidewalk where they stood. "I'll start from the beginning, I guess." She took a deep breath. "I didn't grow up the same way you did, or Brad, or Liam, or Hugo did. And it's not because I'm muggle born, it's because… it's because my parents didn't give a crap about me. My dad was a drunk and a drug addict from the day I was born. He found out I was a wizard and he was so angry. At my mother, at me, at everyone." She took a deep breath again, not really wanting to reveal the next part but knowing that she had to. "The first time he hit me was when I was two years old. I accidentally did some magic. I really didn't mean to; I didn't know any better. And I'm not talking about a spanking or anything like that; I mean he was hitting me with the intention of injuring me. It got worse as I got older. Every day, he would go out to a bar and I would just hide out in my room, lock my doors and pray he wouldn't find me. But he always did. Every night, he came in, did what he wanted to do, and then brought me to some abandoned alley to leave me for dead. I found my way back every night, but imagine trying to explain to your friends and teachers why you're covered in bruises and cuts all the time. You can only tell them you fell so many times before they stop believing you. But at the time, I was just a kid and I didn't know what was really happening. I just assumed that everyone did that. But when I turned seven, I kind of came to the realization that it wasn't right; it wasn't normal. Because one night when he was particularly angry, he did something ten times worse than anything he had ever done before."

Al dropped his head into his hands, understanding what she had meant.

Ayla's tears streamed down her face as she continued. "The day after the first time he did that, he came into my room again and I tried to hide from him, so he…" she paused, unable to speak, and pulled aside her sleeve to reveal once again the jagged scar on her shoulder. "This was from his knife." She turned to the side, moving aside her hair to show him the scars on her neck and collarbone. "And so is this."

Al was crying now, trembling with fear at her terrifying story.

"One day, just six months ago, I finally told my friend's dad who's a social worker, and we got my father sent to that prison right there," she said. "He found out that I told someone and he just went ballistic. By the time the police showed up, he had the knife to my throat but they stopped him just in time."

Her fear suddenly turned to anger. "And the worst part is that he told me over and over again that it was my fault that he was doing that to me. Like I asked for it, like I wanted it!" she cried disgustedly. "I swear to God, if I see him again, I might just kill him!"

"Ayla, oh my god, I'm so sorry!" he cried, throwing his arms around her as she sobbed into his shoulder.

She started shaking with panic. She hadn't thought about her childhood that thoroughly in a long, long time.

"Hey, hey, it's okay!" he promised her, holding her tighter, sensing her hysteria building. "You're safe now, he's in jail, he can't hurt you anymore!" He fell silent for a moment. "Have you ever told anyone before?"

She shook her head. "Just the social worker, and as my statement in the trial against him."

"Why not?" he asked softly, pulling back from their hug but keeping his arm comfortingly around her.

"Because, Al, if everyone really knew who my father was and what my life has been like, they would probably run screaming. Even you're never going to look at me the same way again."

He took her frigid hands in his own. "Ayla, I would never do that. You need your friends now more than ever and I'm never going to run from that. I promise, Ayla. Never."

And with that, he pressed his lips into hers and the frigid night suddenly felt warmer, the weight of the world lifted off her shoulders.

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