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Never Quite Forgotten
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She had never told anyone since she left behind that life, despite a slight slip to Harry once that he thankfully didn't seem to pick up on in one of their heated arguments.
It had been a time of her life that she was struggling to find herself, to find someone that cared about her, that would take care of her.
Her father had just thought he was getting lucky by reducing some of his own responsibility to look after her by passing her off, so getting his permission hadn't been a problem.
What she had been thinking she'd never really managed to figure out since. But the need to feel loved could be overpowering, and Nikki confused that desire with love itself.
Looking back she couldn't possibly understand how she had thought she was mature enough to make any kind of life changing decision. She was sixteen, for crying out loud, what could she have possibly known? But it didn't feel like that at the time, it felt as if it all made sense, as if it was the right thing to do.
She had lived with him for over a year. It started out well, but it wasn't long before life became unbearable. She spent as much time as possible at college, at the library after, hiding away in books, the one place she felt safe. University had been the perfect excuse to leave. If only leaving had been that straight forward.
He hadn't wanted to let her go. Things had often been fiery between them, a little physical when he was angry. But somehow she hadn't seen it coming. Despite being unhappy, deep down knowing that it wasn't working, she believed he loved her, would take care of her. Not beat her to within an inch of her life and leave her on a dusty roadside all alone.
She was still recovering when she started university, still hobbling if she put too much weight on one leg, though thankfully all the visible external marks were gone. Except for a lingering scar across her stomach that she still couldn't bear to look at.
It was easy to pretend it never happened. That she just had a leg injury from playing too much sport over the summer. That she wasn't running from the worst couple of years of her life.
After testifying against him and knowing she was safe whilst he was in prison, she tricked herself into thinking that she would get past it. That she was healing, that one day she'd be alright.
She was even better at lying to herself than she knew. Years in denial made her truly believe that she was over it. It had happened in another lifetime, to someone she didn't even recognise as herself now. She had worked so hard to become strong and independent. She never believed it could all come crashing back down in an instant.
The instant that her ex-husband walked into her workplace and recognised her straight away.
She hadn't been able to find her words. It felt as though the whole English language had been erased from her memory and all she could do was stand and stare, and gape slightly as fear swelled up through her whole existence.
For years the centre had been her sanctuary. The one place she could rely on when even her own home became scary, another place for her nightmares to play out. She knew it wasn't just about the building, about how much she loved her job and what the place resembled. It was knowing that eventually, even if it took all night, either Leo or Harry would walk in and she wouldn't be alone anymore.
If she really gave it some thought, she'd been running from being alone most of her life. Clinging onto people, places, in a desperate attempt to feel like she had a purpose, like she was loved.
A distorted image of her mother passed in front of her eyes as she remembered feeling truly loved as a child. Truly safe. That had all fallen apart when her mother died, and she'd been fighting to feel that secure again ever since.
Now her one safe place was tainted, a reminder of a life she wanted to forget.
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