"You've grown up so much Elly," he smiles, sadness filling his eyes.
I grin at his nickname for me which sounds like music to my ears after not hearing it for so long. I wipe away my own tears, feeling a little embarrassed for the way I reacted. I've always thought about him over the years but didn't know how to get in contact. Mum always refused if I ever asked for her help.
"I've missed you Pops," I murmur, hugging him harder. He holds onto me and strokes my hair before re-assuring me that everything is going to be okay. He repeats it over and over again —
"I'll make sure of it Elly."
I don't know how he plans to make it okay but I hold onto his words tightly. . . He's my only hope right now.
*****
I flinch as I pull my dress over my head, getting undressed. I scan my body, eyes landing on my stomach where huge ugly bruises stare back at me. I feel hideous. They don't seem to be healing which concerns me that something is definitely wrong. I sigh in defeat, knowing I can't go to the hospital to get them treated.
What could I possibly say?
Years of abuse wouldn't go un-noticed by professionals and I know Trevor would kill me if I searched for help. I shake my head, ridding myself of the thoughts.
After the wedding, I made sure to put my number into Grandad's phone so we could stay in contact. I feel slightly better knowing I have one person to rely on. I've just gotten him back so I'm ready to let him go anytime soon.
I made Grandad promise me he wouldn't let Mum or Trevor know we exchanged numbers but he was already one step ahead of me, his eyes filling with sadness as he nodded silently. I think a part of him knew I lived in destruction and pain constantly.
I change into some fresh pyjamas and sit down on my bedroom floor before pulling out various different sheets of homework that need doing this weekend.
I don't mind homework, it keeps me occupied whilst I spend the weekend locked in my room. Trevor doesn't let me leave the house and I don't have the courage to sneak out. I've never been out with my friends to experience things every teenager should. Sadness fills me as I think of teenage memories I'm missing out on that my friends aren't.
Parties, boys, hanging out with friends.
All superficial however I want to experience it, desperately. I grab my phone and scroll through my contacts, landing on Trish. I ring her and wait patiently for her to answer.
"Hello?" She giggles on the other end, sounding breathless.
"Trish? Are you okay?" I ask her, concerned at her difficulty to breathe. She giggles louder and I faintly hear a male voice in the background, instructing her to hang up. I gasp, slapping my knee —
"Trisha Louise Lockwood, do you have a boy with you?!"
She erupts into giggles and I roll my eyes before ending the call. No way am I listening to my best friend making out with someone through a phone. My nose scrunches up in disgust before I sigh sadly from the lack of my love life.
I may be sixteen now but before I know it, I'll be eighty surrounded by sixty different cats. . .
Chapter Six - The bad boy doesn’t believe me.
I'm completely drenched with rain, head to toe.
My hair is soaking wet and clings to my forehead unattractively as I run under some shelter. I squint my eyes and look around to take advantage of someone with an umbrella. No luck. I sigh and mentally prepare myself to make a sprint for the college doors.
Three. . . Two. . . One.
I run as fast as I psychically can, internally crying as my converse slaps against the wet floor. Pain immediately flares up my side from the simple movement and I wince as I make it to the doors. The pain is much more frequent now and I don't know whether my body can handle this beating. I close my eyes, leaning against the wall for a moment as I struggle to brave the pain.
Moments pass and I inhale deeply before entering. I ignore the amused look from my classmates and head straight for the bathroom.
I let out a groan as I come face to face with my appearance, my hair is a frizzy mess and mascara runs down my cheeks. As for my clothes. . . They stick to me uncomfortably, the material heavy with rain.
The door is pushed open and Ivory walks in, one of my classmates. She takes one look at me and burst into fits of laughter. I scowl and pout at her, signalling for her to pass me some paper towels.
"Do you need some help Emily?" She giggles, handing me a wad of paper towels. I raise my brows —
"Is it that obvious?" I respond, humour lining my voice. Ivory laughs again, her auburn hair flying around her face. Her laugh is infectious and soon enough, I'm laughing alongside her. My body begins to shiver from the cold rain and Ivory smiles at me, shaking her head.
"Wait here, I'll be back in a minute."
I watch her leave and take the opportunity to dry my hair under the hand dryer. It's the closest thing I have to a real hairdryer but did little to tame my mass of hair. I groan again, running my fingers through it as I attempt to make it look more presentable. The door
