Notorious

* DO NOT READ THIS BEFORE READING PREVIOUS CHAPTERS!*

When I was nine years old I was almost swallowed by the sea.

Despite my mother's constant nagging and my father's incessant warnings, I waded into the treacherously freezing waters on an early January morning while they were busy setting up a picnic. I was a good swimmer, quick and strong.

But, the sea is stronger.

Before I was even knee deep in the water the riptide pulled my ankles out from under me and swept me away.

I was instantly blinded by the blackness surrounding me and numb from the icy water. My senses were completely cut off by the angry ocean and I had no way of pulling myself out from her tight grip.

I thrashed and writhed for what felt like hours, trying to swim one way and being pulled in a completely different direction. My lungs ached for air that wouldn't come and everything inside of me felt a balloon being pumped full of too much air about to burst.

The ocean was going to eat me and use my limbs as toothpicks.

And just when I was about to give up, when the fighting had tired me too much to continue and my lungs began to turn blue my father pulled me from the ocean and dragged me back onto the shore, his days as the captain of his high school swim team finally put to use.

I was safe.

But, those few minutes spent battling for my life, trying to fight against the inevitable, against something much more powerful than I... I thought that nothing could be more terrifying.

Until now.

I can tell the cab driver is growing restless, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel to the rhythm of whatever band is playing inside the large club. He shouldn't be complaining though, the meter is still running and has been since we left Whitstable.

I already practically owe the guy my entire wallet.

But, I still can't move -I'm practically glued to my seat.

My eyes glide over the scene outside the tinted window once again -taking in the abundance of nicely dressed men and women stumbling in and out of the venue, the door opening every time, allowing the rest of the world to taste the music coming from inside and then closing again, masking it slightly.

Tonight is the night of the competition.
The competition Saints & Sinners has been preparing for for over a year now. The one that guarantees us -no, them- a recording contract with a major record label.

And somehow... I find myself in London, sitting outside the venue in a cab that smells overwhelmingly like marijuana, too afraid to go in.

I can't even fully explain the events in the past 72 hours. Everything happened so quickly, without much thought or planning that I'm not entirely sure how I got here.

But, it all began with that letter.

That too late goddamn letter from my father asking me to move with him six years ago.

I was so angry. I was livid when I finished reading that letter over for the third time. Angry at my father for taking so long to write and then never writing again and then angry at my mother for hiding this away from me, for letting the opportunity to live with my dad slip through my fingers completely unaware of an opportunity in the first place.

All I could think about was the 'what ifs'. What if I took up his offer and grew up in the states -would I still be singing? Would I never have developed trust issues? Would I never have felt the pain and heartache of feeling neglected and unwanted by every person in my life -by him, the most important person in my life at the time?

My whole life... My whole life could've turned out differently.

But, the opportunity was snatched away from my grasp without me ever being aware that it was there in the first place.

So, I ripped that letter to shreds right there on that cold beach.

And then I cried.

I cried for everything that could've been. For my father who waited desperately for my reply, for my mother who was so insecure she had to keep me from him, for Louis and for Harry, and mostly, for me.

For who I could've been.

And then I gathered all of the little pieces of parchment, carried them back into the house, and taped the pieces back together.

Decided I had to tape the pieces of my life back together.

Because I was tired of the 'what ifs', of wondering what could've been, of letting these people walk out of my life. Letting life flash right by me without letting myself really live it.