Pure

sixty nine

*2 weeks later*

Dear Lucy,

You're probably wondering why I am writing you this letter. I am asking myself that question as well.

In case you were curious, I am really doing a whole lot better. The first week in rehab was rough, I actually tried escaping twice, because I felt like I couldn't handle it and I missed you so much. I still do, but I learned to live with it.

You're probably not even interested in how I'm doing, I know I wouldn't be either. So, I'll get to why I'm writing you.

It's quite a long story, but please bear with me, because I want you to know everything.

Before I left for rehab, I texted you, and that day I promised something to you. And I'm actually keeping that promise. Right now, I'm going to tell you about my past. I've realised now that I should've told you that a long time ago. Maybe then things never turned to shit.

When I was little, my parents used to fight a lot. And it was so bad, that my dad used to hit my mother. He was drunk all the time, stayed out late, he always yelled at the three of us.

When I was 4, my sister went to live with my grandparents to stay safe. I never understood why she left, since I was still a little boy.

I was 6 when I started to understand a bit more, I felt very lonely at such a young age. I didn't have any friends, because I could never take them home with me because of my situation.

When I was 8, I learned my dad abused my mother. She always wore long sleeves and sweaters to hide her bruises and cuts my dad made on her. It was horrible.

By the time I was 14, my mother had been in the hospital twice already. At that time, I started thinking this was all because of me. Because I had been born. Don't ask me why I thought that, I just did. I thought it would be better if I was gone.

Though, I was 12 years old when my dad first hit me. It had me shaken up, I was confused and hurt. However, I thought if I took the hits, my mother would be fine. But that wasn't the case.

My dad made me feel worthless. He would call me names every single day. Trash, worthless, useless, a piece of shit. At moments like that, I really wished I had a normal family like any other boy or girl my age. I craved it.

I think I was 12 as well when I first cut myself. You're probably scared right now, and you should be, because I'm a fucked up person with a fucked up mind. Don't worry, though, I'm fixing myself. But when I first cut myself, I felt something. And no, it was not from the blade I pressed deeply into my skin, it was actually from the pain that I released. It satisfied me to see my own blood seep out of my cuts and see it run down my legs. I blamed myself for everything that happened, and by scarring myself, it would make me feel a little less guilty.

I was 16 when my mother was in the hospital for her third time. I still cut myself and I still took every hit from my dad to protect my mother.

Though, I was 15 when I made my first friend. He is your friend, too.

Liam Payne.

Liam is, and was back then, a great friend. During the daytime we would always hang out, and it made me feel a whole lot better. But as soon as it was nighttime and the darkness was surrounding me, I would always find myself back in my small bathroom with that same razor in my hand, pressing it into my thighs.

When I was 17, my dad finally got taken away from us. I found the courage to tell Liam everything that had happened, and he wanted to help me.

I thought I could move on after that, but I couldn't. I had nightmares almost every night. I wasn't myself. Or maybe I was, because there never really was a different me.

I met a girl. I was 18, and I got my first girlfriend. But she wanted to have sex and I didn't. I found out it was a dare, and I was hurt. And I did something I will always regret. I hit her. 8 years ago, I hit a girl for the first time. I felt like my father. I felt disgusting. I still feel disgusting.

Then I met Louis and I moved in with him. You know our story. But when I turned 21, it didn't feel right anymore, so I left him. That's when I moved to your neighbourhood.

Every month I got myself a new girlfriend and I became my dad. I hit and abused and I used them for my own pleasure.

And I..

I lost myself.

I was 22 when I met you.

You and your parents moved into the house across the street. You were such a beautiful little girl, you were stunning, so innocent, so pure. You were 15 years old, if I remember correctly, and I remember baking you and your parents a cake to welcome you into the neighbourhood. That's also when I started working at your father's company. Me and your family had gotten so close. I adored you and I loved the way you used to call me 'Mr. Styles' even if I told you countless times to just call me 'Harry'.

The rest is history.

Everything went so well back then.

Then we got together and we ran away together, and believe me when I tell you I never regret doing that.

Because being with you was probably the best decision I ever made.

Hurting you was definitely the worst.

I sincerely apologise.

It's okay if you decide to never forgive me. I'm okay with you not writing me back, too. I just hope you read this and now understand what I've been through. And no, I'm not using that as an excuse, because that would be simply stupid.

I just want you to know that I still love you. And I hope you can be happy after everything that happened between us. I'm sorry I took everything away from you by taking you with me to Manchester.

However, I do not and will never apologise for loving you the way I do.

I hope you can understand that as well.

Please, take good care of yourself. And please get to know your next partner, that's where it went wrong with us.

I still wish to see you when I am better.

I love you.

- H

* * * * * *

Next update: Saturday, October 22nd.