• the perfect pair •

☆ shaky hands ☆

toya pov, flashbacks //

I met a girl when I went to the park today, and she's called An. She was super duper nice. She's 8 too. She didn't think I was childish or weird, which I like, so now we are friends.

I smile as I recite what happened today, before I hear somebody interrupt my thoughts and open my wooden door.

I jump slightly and look around, tense at the sudden appearance of a figure as it creaks open. It's probably father telling me goodnight.

I rub my eyes and turn on my little side table lamp, the yellow light weakly lighting up the corner of the room where my bed is placed.

My step-mom walks in, and I frown and swallow, praying she doesn't do the 'weird thing' again. That's what I call it. It feels strange, and my stomach starts to sink when she does it, but I don't know what it is exactly.

"Toya." She gently closes the door, before slowly turning around to me and walking over.

She's going to do it again.

She's going to do it again and I'm scared.

I get pushed down against my sheets as I feel her weight on top of me, a hand clasping over my mouth. She turns off the side light, putting us into darkness. I whimper and try to squeeze out, but I can't. I never can.

"Shhh. It's okay. It's okay." She mumbles into my ear. Is it okay? She says it's okay. She always says it's okay.

So why do I cry?

Tears fall down my cheeks as her hand slips down me, my joggers that I use for pyjamas lifting up where she forced them away.

I cant breathe properly, my breath being cut off when I jolt in for air, trembling. She kisses my cheek and continues to touch places that should be pure, that should be left alone.

After she feels her own satisfaction, she gets up and leaves, smiling at me. I grab my dog plushie and hold it close to my chest, leaning back against the wall as I gently yet silently cry into it's soft texture.

Father discusses with her.

"I told him a little story. He's asleep now. I wouldn't bother him." My step-mom says warmly. I want to run out and hug father, plea him for help, but I'm too scared.

I'm too scared of everything.

toya pov, present //

I bite my nails, sat on my bed as I look into the mirror.

I don't like swimming for the pure reason that I have to have no shirt on. It's weird. It just makes me uncomfortable.

'Wear a shirt then!' Absoloutely not. I'd rather fry into a crisp any day over having to willingly swim with a shirt on.

"Fuck." I mumble, just putting an oversized shirt on. I'm overthinking absoloutely everything. Do I need to look nice?

I don't even know if I can go. I'm too scared that I'll mess everything up. He already looks at me weirdly. It's because I'm awkward. I'll ruin everything.