Loving the unloveable

Tainted image

Iris:

"There's another article" Ava informs the room as she scrolls over her laptop, in the living room.
"Ava I told you I don't want to know or see any of them" I dismiss her because I've been avoiding anything that's been published about me or my father. "I know but this one is really bad"
"Even more reason not to see it" I mumble loud enough for her to hear. No one else seems to share the same idea as they rush over to peer at the screen that my sister has pulled up. They as in all of my friends and the kids.

"Fucking hell" Aidan mutters and that's when I know it's bad. "druggie"
"Teenage mother"
"Whore"
"Gold digger"
"I don't need to hear any more thanks" I raise from my seat, ignoring all of their stares as I flee the room. "Seriously guys? Why would you do that?" I hear Lu speaking to them all as I briskly escape through the front door.

I know I've been talked about by the media but I've blocked it out, ignored it because I don't know how to deal with it. No one's opinions matter to me except for elias' yet it feels inescapable. Everywhere i look people are giving me disgusted looks and avoiding me like I'm plagued. Photos and videos are constantly emerging that I'm mostly unaware have been or are being taken and no reporter has shown me mercy or decency by not publishing the cruel words and images that violate not only mine but the kids privacy.

I've had to hide or cover Diego's face every time paparazzi have bombarded us when we are doing simple things such as grocery shopping or going to the park. I've managed, barely, to keep his identity confidential and at this point I'm starting to believe it's best if I step back from caring for the three of them. I can't put them through this, it's not right and they don't deserve it. None of the kids do, same for my friends who have not helped their own reputation by standing by me.

Why can't anything be simple? I just want a normal life, no runaway mother, no abusive father, no rapist, no ugly scars, no trust issues, no responsibility other than being a teenager. Is that so much to ask for, really? I pull the sleeves of my hoodie over the ends of my fingers, that curl up to create fists by my sides. My nails pressurise the skin on my palm until it breaks and I draw small spots of blood. All I want is one break. Just one. Why don't I deserve that much?

I pinch my eyes shut, willing the tears that have began to gather in the corners of my eye away. As I do so I hear tyres roll over the road at a slow pace. The purr of a familiar Aston Martin creeps into my ears and I release a choppy breath.
"Wanna get out of here?" Jake. I nod meekly, reaching for the car door that I pull open and slip inside of. I don't bother with a seatbelt as he brings the car's speed back up to the legal limit.

He doesn't force me to talk during the car ride and I'm grateful for it, if it was anyone else I'm sure they would be drilling me with questions but Jake doesn't. He never has. Not even as he puts the car in park and stretches his legs out of the vehicle, before hauling the rest of the body out too. He strides over to my side and swings the door open without giving me a second to make a move myself. "Come on" i peer up at him, noting how he leaves a gap for me to exit the car through.

With careful movements I climb out of the car, hearing him shut and lock it behind me. My arms cross over my chest as I look around at the place he's brought me to. The parking lot is completely empty bar one car that sits outside of the singular, lonely looking warehouse kind of thing.
"Where are we?" Jake stuffs his keys into his pocket, stepping up to my side.

"Somewhere that you can take out your anger" I look up at him or from this view, his side profile.
After a second of me just watching him his eyes collide with mine. "Stop" he grumbles, nudging my shoulder playfully and then setting off toward the only entry point. I snap out of my thoughts and jog to catch up to him. We walk side by side quietly until we reach the door and he holds it open for me. I duck under his arm and walk into the small room that is made up of a sofa, vending machine and front desk.