"You drew stars around my scars, but now I'm bleeding..."
Gaia Ashmore has lived under the radar of her strict mother all her life. Every aspect of her life - from her fashion sense to her career - is controlled by her mother. And even when Gaia mov...
"I went to so many places, Looking for you in their faces. I could feel it, oh, I can feel it." — Always You, Louis Tomlinson
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GAIA THOUGHT THAT I had a strong build and a nice face. In other words, Gaia saw (and touched) me past all the layers of my personality and baggy clothes and found me attractive. It was the only thing I could think of when I walked her back.
"It's... because of my mother." She said, swinging her hands back and forth. "I'm not telling you this so you'll pity me or whatever, but I'm telling you so that you understand why it's important for me to be back home by ten."
She looked at me like she was still contemplating whether or not to tell me, so I confirmed it for her. "You don't have to tell me." I understood her, she didn't trust me yet.
She cleared her throat, and I had to take a second to catch my breath because of how pretty she looked under the streetlight, even when she wasn't smiling. There was a glow around her. "I have video calls with my mother every night at ten. So I rushed out of our encounter yesterday because of that; she hates it even if I'm a minute late. My mother's strict, to say the least. It's... It's hard to explain, but even if I live miles away from her, she's mainly in control of my life." She bit her lip, and I wondered if she was still contemplating telling me more.
She sighed. "She... I know she means well, but sometimes her control turns into hate without realising, and that hurts, you know?" I did. I knew all too well. But I wasn't going to tell her that. My story was far darker than hers. "Sometimes it's my skin looking dull. Other days, I look like I'm getting fat. Then, it's my eye bags. Or my sleep patterns. Or even the clothes I wear. But most times, it's her pointing fingers at me for not being a good daughter."
I inspected her to make sure she wasn't tearing up. "How late were you to call her yesterday?"
"Eight minutes." She hesitantly looked away from me.
"Was she angry at you?" I asked, but after seeing her face fall at my words, I immediately felt bad.
"You have no idea," She said, looking at the streetlights above as we walked by. "So, I'm sorry for running out on you like that."
"You don't need to apologise, it's not your fault." No wonder why you hate me.
She rubbed her hands together and blew into them, looking at the sky again. "I know I said that I hate you, Ilkay. But not in the way you think. I mean, sure, your presence is hard to ignore and you're the hard-to-miss kind of guy, but I don't hate you that way. I guess... I hate that you're usually the cause for everything bad that happens to me. And if not the cause, then it's the way you're always there to witness it. I hate you in that way."
