Fifteen

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od timidbones

od timidbones

Sorry I haven't updated in like a couple of weeks. Just take note I am sixteen and I tend to have a real social, busy life. Also, it is winter break which I'm given two weeks of break. However, that does not mean I'll have a new chapter everyday/night. I will try my best to post as many as I can, because I will be going to Indiana to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas and spend time with family there.

Love yall. Enjoy! *hearts*
*ANNABELLE IS NOW SEVENTEEN/17*!!!!!!!

Five Months After.

"Hi mother, I've missed you."

It's been four months since I was forced to live with my father until the school year ended. Now I'm back home, living with my mother and trying to have a suitable conversation. I am seventeen now, next year will be senior year but I'm hoping to take a few extra courses to graduate early and leave this town. As much as I love my mother, I cannot stay here. It'd be a broken promise I've made myself.

As I walked to my old home my eyes glanced at the door that was once the door that I had no problem knocking. Now, I would die just thinking of it. That's another reason why I'm in such a hurry; I want to be as far as possible from him. I know it's only been five months, but it felt like four years. I was so stupid for believing an older man would ever be interested in a sixteen year old. Despite my age he'll always see me as a naive little girl and I would have to agree with him. I was naive and innocent and stupid. Believe me, I probably still am because I'm growing up each day.

"How's your father?"

"He's well."

While in my father's house I stayed the entire first three weeks weeping inside my room. The only time I would get out of my room was to use the bathroom and to go to the kitchen. I would stay in my bed with a box of tissues beside me and I would watch America's next top model and secretly talk shit about every single one of them. My father would come in and beg me to go out just for a tiny bit with him, and I would look at him with my grieving stage, he'd get the message and leave me alone. This lasted until the following day.

My father's side of the family, which I don't get along with, were going to the beach. Honestly? All I wanted to do after three weeks of sobbing was to get the hell out of that room. It felt amazing when the warmth of the sun hit my fair skin. My father was so happy, his smile alone could beat the warmth of the sun. In that moment I was happy and alive again, he did not cross my mind at all.

And that was what made me happy the most.

"How was the rest of the school year?" My mother asked while putting my luggage away. I offered to help but she didn't let me.

"Good. It was very hot." I giggle.

"California weather," my mother scoffs and I agree with her. California weather is very depressing during the holidays. Especially Christmas.

It was December when I left. It's May now, the humidity here is terrible. I have to keep my hair in ponytails every time I leave the house, or else I have a birds nest. Many people would say my hair looks thin, but actually it's thick. I inherited from my mom but I got the hair color from my dad. Due to my father's family being half Mexican and half white, everyone has brunette hair. Except for my aunt Martha who still thinks she's thirty and died her hair blond, although her roots say otherwise.

My father is fluent, but sometimes he messes up and forgets words. I wish I was fluent, but being raised by my mom who's Italian she didn't speak Spanish. Italian sounds a bit like Spanish, I hear the similarities in some words but not in all of them. I am fluent in Italian though. My dad would always say 'Didn't have the audacity to teach my daughter some Spanish, but did Italian. No tiene sentido' . The last part means: it doesn't make sense.

My mother says, "Have you eaten anything, dear?"

"No, I'm starving."

We decided to go to IHOP which I hate, but I wasn't going to tell my mother that. I'm back and I don't want to start unnecessary drama. I changed from my pajamas to jeans, a pale blue sweatshirt and my dirty white converse. I always told myself to buy a new pair, but I know they would end up like the past five I owned. I redid my ponytail, pulled some strands to frame my face.

Before I leave I look at my room; at my bed in which I once laid and wished the man next door would at least look at me.

"Annabelle!" My mother calls.

I didn't answer because I was already heading to the door. I stepped out on the hallways and waited until she locked the door. That is until I heard footsteps coming from the stairs. I looked to see and two figures appeared, both tall and laughing. My heart dropped. I can hear the thumping in my ear. My stomach turns and I feel like I'm going to be sick.

Zayn is with someone. A girl. I mean, a woman. Long, dark hair. Beautiful. Curves I've never seen before.

I looked away. I looked foolish, silly, and small next to her. I close my eyes, I can still hear his voice laced with venom telling me all those horrible things the day I left. We spent seven months together, whether it was as a couple or not, he threw it all away. It meant so much more to me.

"Ready?"

I nod. Unfortunately, in order to go downstairs we have to pass them. It's okay, I can do this. We start walking and I keep my head up high and I don't glance, look at him. I cannot and will not show weakness. I won't show him how miserable I was, how heartbroken I was. How much I need him. It's okay, I can do this. My mom says excuse me and we continue to walk. I noticed their talking had immediately stopped once my mom spoke. I knew he was looking. I wanted to turn around so bad. To look at those hazel eyes, and fall right into his arms. Because I know deep inside he did not mean those things.