Chapter Two; Movies, Madness, and Meltdowns
A/N: This chapter has self-harm in it. If you don't want to read about that, then you shouldn't read this story.
I followed the car they drove in, which was quite nice and must have cost more money than I would care to think of. It was some kind of Audi, but I couldn't identify the exact type of Audi it was, and couldn't be bothered to try. It was their car, so why should I take extremes and try to see what it was?
It was a drive of about half an hour before we finally pulled into a neighborhood that seemed to be surreal it was so utterly elaborate. The houses themselves were three to four stories high and all made with an attention to detail and I drove with my eyes filled with awe and amazement. These five boys must be insanely rich if they could afford to live here, but if the car was any forewarning I should have expected this to come. It was hard to wrap my mind around, but it was just so weird being able to enter this neighborhood. I felt kind of intrusive with my car being so old and rusty.
Going deeper into the winding roads, the houses only got bigger and more extravagant and my admiration just increased. This area of houses was so…I don't even know how to describe it anymore because the houses have become more and more garnished with each passing second. It makes all other houses that I thought was exorbitant seem unpretentious and I was having a hard time dealing with all of this.
We eventually reached an ornate house, or rather a mansion. It was three stories and had a glass wall on one side, from what I could see. Everything was so flamboyant in this estate, and that was only judging from the exterior. I could barely imagine what the interior would behold for me.
Pulling into their ridiculously long driveway, I pulled up about halfway and hopped out of the car, shivering in the cool air. I still had a hoodie on but the unforgiving wind cut straight through it and onto my pale skin, most likely causing goose-bumps to arise on my arms and legs.
Striding up the long driveway, I eventually saw the boys waiting for me, pushing each other around without a care in the world and I utterly envied them. They had the perfect life. They had the huge mansion, the happiness, and the carefree attitude in life that I longed to have since I was twelve. I, on the other hand, was a girl that was called 'fat' on a daily basis and also known as the 'emo' of the school just because I was too depressed with life to not let it out through pain. It just wasn't possible to live my life with happiness. I had no friends, my father abused me, and I had to put on a façade on every single time I went into the public. Honestly, I hated my life, and have had suicidal thoughts more than once but never carried them out. I always had the will to stop myself.
"Hey, Cashier Girl!" I flinched back when a hand was so rudely waved in my face and I automatically stepped back several steps. After five years of abuse, both verbal and physical, you flee instead of fight back. They didn't notice that I wanted my space and continued to pursue me and I desperately latched my teeth down on my lower lip as I started trembling. I tried holding it together, but they didn't understand what I was going through.
When I didn't respond, they shook my shoulders slightly and that's when I broke. After all of the tension today from the insults to the beating my father gave me to the five boys asking me too many questions about my current life, I just broke. I vented, and I vented through tears. They never fell but brimmed in my eyes. I just started shaking before dropping down into a fetal position to get away from them. It may have been a bit melodramatic but you become that way after going through my life, trust me.
"What did you do, Louis?" asked one of the other boys tiredly.
"Nothing, she just kind of…I don't even know!" he defended himself, putting his hands up in the air to show his innocence.
I did nothing, however. I just continued shivering, probably from the cold and from my vulnerability, but I wrapped my fat arms around my chubby legs, feeling the fat squish and I felt even more disgusted with myself. With my knees tucked up to my torso, the unneeded fat on my stomach also was spread out, and I felt horrible. I felt the sudden urging upon myself to go to the bathroom and find anything. Something sharp and I needed it soon. I was slowly breaking and I needed the release of pain.
"Let's just get inside," muttered one of the other boys before they turned to me.
I got up and said nothing with my head bowed. I knew nothing of these boys and I nearly cried in front of them and showed my inner self, the broken girl, the hollow shell. Before my mother died, she urged me to see a therapist and then she got into that car crash and just made my situation worsen. My cutting got deeper, suicidal thoughts appeared, and I started dressing in darker clothes. That's when the taunting began to come in force and my father came back into my life, not as a father figure, but as a secret abuser. I kind of blamed my mom for my situation, but that was just because of the need I had to blame it one someone even if that happened to someone even if that happened to be my own mother.
They led me into their house, Louis unlocking the door silently. I knew he felt somewhat guilty but I wasn't going to reassure him. I didn't even have the strength to give myself support, as I had none to spare. We walked in and even in my current state; I had to admire the inside. It was beautiful and tastefully decorated for five boys. It was a white and beige theme with the occasional glossy wood feature on it and pictures scattered on the walls. It really was beautiful.
There were stairs directly in front of me, probably leading up the stairs to other rooms and I swerved around them as the other boys had and followed them into a luxurious living room, already envying them of the house they had. Their living room contained two cream-colored sofas on a carpet hued in white. There was a wood coffee table in the middle of the two, as they were perpendicular to each other. A flat-screen TV of an enormous size was set up on the wall and my jaw dropped a little. There was a door the led to the kitchen most likely. There were consoles of video games scattered about below the TV, which they probably played quite often seeing as there were three different brands of game consoles. That was all I could observe of this room from first glances. It was actually quite neat though, considering five boys lived here.
"This is nice," I complimented in a quite undertone, not really wanting them to hear me, just so I could say something to break this unnerving, awkward silence.
"Thanks," returned the wavy-haired brunette with dark brown eyes underneath thick brows. He had spoken to me at the restaurant, in fact they all had, but I remembered his distinct voice from earlier. It was deep with a thick accent and memorable to the human ear.
"Do you live here all the time? Because it doesn't sound like you are from here," I tentatively asked, not knowing if they would want to tell me that. I mean, who would want to tell about where they are from to a girl they just met. I know I certainly wouldn't, but my past is a touchy subject that I wouldn't like to share with anyone. In fact, I haven't told anyone because no one is close enough to me that I would trust them with such a secret and I had no friends, so it wasn't like there was anybody to tell in the first place.
"No, we're from different parts of England, but we are here in the United States on a vacation," replied a ridiculously curly-haired boy with shining green eyes that had a mixture of mischief, joy, happiness and a bunch of other emotions. I wonder what it is like to be so positive about life. I certainly haven't felt what they have felt based on what their eyes convey. They say the eyes are the window to the soul. Well, my eyes must be bleak, dark and depressing.
"Want to watch a movie?" suggested the blond boy. I detected a thick Irish accent from him. So, one of them isn't from England, but the rest of them sound like it from what I have gleaned when they spoke. Some of them don't speak often. But they certainly aren't a quiet bunch, to be sure.
"Sure," I responded with nonchalance. Honestly, I just wanted to go home and fall asleep or something. I felt uncomfortable here. I had always felt nervous around the opposite gender from never having a boyfriend and from my father abusing me. I'm sure not all guys are like that, but I just can't get myself to trust any of them. I don't know if I will ever be the same cheery child I was before I turned twelve.
I let them decide upon a movie and they slid it into the DVD player. I settled down on one edge of the couch, seated next to the curly-haired one. I learned that his name was Harry, but I am going to call him Curls if I ever see him again, which I found highly unlikely.
This movie was somewhat scary as to how it related to me. Hit after hit was exchanged upon the girl from an abuser and she self-harmed herself in one of the scenes. That got my pulse pounding while the others just looked relaxed. I couldn't watch this movie anymore, not without thinking those thoughts. I had to vent now or I might shatter again.
"Do you have a bathroom?" I choked out.
They all nodded, giving me strange looks and pointed down the hall. "It's the last door on the right," Liam added and I nodded before darting down the corridor. I veered to the right and into the bathroom before slamming the door shut and locking it carefully. Seating myself on the toilet, I silently slipped a tiny pocketknife out of my jeans. After the movie, the beating, the questions, everything today I just couldn't take it.
I slid my left sleeve up to reveal a mixture of shimmering scars and fresh cuts and some in the process of being healed. I flipped the blade open and pressed lightly against my forearm. Sliding the cold razor across the skin and gently tearing the delicate, unmarred skin. Only three drops of blood emerged, but they were beautiful, brilliant red against the pallid hue of my skin as they formed perfect circles before gently streaking down my wrist and I sighed. It wasn't a matter of if I wanted to or not, it had become a necessity of my life, a constant need driving me to do so. It was like a drug, so addictive and I knew I couldn't stop now, not with just one.
Continuing onward I cut on my stomach and thigh instead as the blood on my sleeve would be noticeable but the dark skinny jeans would hide it well from the boys if I went back out there. After making ten or so more cuts, I finally felt unpressured and slightly less stressed than I was this morning or throughout the afternoon. Before reemerging, I felt a certain relief fill the air, but I made no sound except an inaudible sigh. Making sure my pants were firmly secured on my waist, I reemerged, hoping the stains weren't noticeable from here. They shouldn't be, I should know from experience. That was a sad statement that I had experience with this. But, it was true nonetheless.
Hesitantly approaching the boys once more, they all watched me carefully as if I were a fragile piece of china that might break into pieces at any moment, which might be a real possibility in my state of mind, considering the things I go through every day. At least I had a slightly reasonable explanation as to why I was so sensitive about things like people touching me, depressing movies, and other assorted things.
Nobody said anything for a while and I muttered, "I think I'm going to go home." It was quiet, but the room was so silent that the quiet was deafening, so I'm sure everybody heard me. I got up to go leave when a voice stopped me.
"Wait, can we get your number so we can at least talk to you again?" asked Liam. His eyebrows were furrowed into a scowl.
I shrugged, refraining from hunching my shoulders. Honestly, I didn't want to hang out with them again, but I didn't want to seem rude, so I handed them a little slip of paper with my neat handwriting scrawled onto it and my number. It had the phone number and then my full name next to it so they wouldn't forget about who I was and then stare at the random phone number strangely. Just in case, because you never know with teenage boys.
Sighing, I made my way out of their house as quickly as possible and hopping into the car before they could stop me and draw me back into their niceties and small talk and entrancing accents. I would resist anyways. I really and desperately wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible because I knew they would ask question like why I was in there for so long and what I was doing in there and I didn't want to face questions like those because I was a horrid liar.
Driving away, the tires screeched against their paved driveway as I swerved and drove out of their neighborhood so focused on getting out that I took no time in admiring the houses and how rich and expensive they looked with a lot of hard work put into it. I knew they wouldn't follow me because they had enough sense not to follow me, at least they had that much brains in them. Snorting at this thought, I glanced around and realized that I was back home and panting. My heavy breathing indicated that I was stressing out over nothing. I did that quite often, actually before finals at the end of school and things similar to that. I never been in a social situation where I started to flip out like this, except for when Louis shook me by the shoulders, bringing back flashbacks of when my father did the same exact thing the first time he abused me.
Sighing, I got out of the car and trailed into the house, unsure of what to do now. I sure as hell wasn't going to go to school tomorrow. Not in a state like this. I don't care what I said about not wanting to skip school, but I don't want to deal with the insults thrown at me while in a state like this. Who knows? I might end up muttering to myself like some kind of crazy person tomorrow if anybody bugs me. Or I might lash out. It could be unpredictable after having a panic attack, which stemmed from me having an anxiety disorder. I was such a screwed-up mess. My life was so fucked up that I didn't even know what to do with myself anymore.
A/N: Hello! How do you like it so far? Is it good? Give me your reviews!