nobody's home; harry styles.

0.2. (finally)

(a/n: when i was translating this chapter i realised that if you're under 15 I don't think you should read the fanfic... but, who cares. we're all illegal so it depends on your likings and choices. ps: no one can resist harry. hands down.)

"You're a whore that just wants to have sex with every single man! That's what you are, Effie. Why can't you accept the truth? You're a failure." My dad yells while pushing the weak body of my mother.

"Let go of me, John! Let me go!" My mom yells back, trying to get out of my father's grip.

I hear his laugh. I run back to my room and hide inside my wardrobe, covering my ears and crying. Daddy is hitting mommy, again.

I bet he'll come for me, he'll tell me that mom is a "whore". I have no idea what that word means but I know mom is not that. He'll yell at me and he'll force me to tell mom that she is a whore, if I don't do that, he will slap me.

"Cassie! Cassie, sweetheart!" My mom comes into my room.

I open the wardrobe and I look at her from bottom to top. Oh my... She is bleeding, one of her eyes is almost purple and her cheek is red. Her head is full of blood and I don't know if that's good or bad. Her face is pale and it scares me so much.

"You won't get rid of me, Effie! When I get there, you'll be worse than now!"

My mom keeps crying and crying and I don't know what i'm suppose to do. In less than a minute, my dad is over her body. With a knife in his hand. I run to the corner of my room, panicking, crying, shouting for help and shaking. It was pointless... Dad hurted mom infront of my eyes. He look around the room looking for me, I jump inside my wardrobe and hide in there until he left. I go out of my hiding place and crawl towards my mom.

"Mommy?" I ask, lying beside her. "Could you tell me a bedtime story?" Silence fills the room as I kneel down her side. "Momma? Are you asleep? You have to finish the story from last night! Mommy?"

That was today's nightmare; my mom's death. And I felt it so real that I even cried asleep. I'd rather not to remember the details of that day, nor the next day or anything related to her. It seems that my unconscious likes to see me suffer everything I didn't suffered that day, I mean I was 8 years old and I didn't understand what was happening.

I get up heavily, take a shower and change my clothes. I hate school but if that's the only thing I can do to be far away from this house, I can live in there without even hesitating.

I face the mirror, I have some scratches and bags under my eyes. I'm sure everybody will speculate about what happened to my face but the only person that truly knows is Zayn.

As fast as I put one foot in the kitchen, my dad is smiling at me. This is the typical routine: he thinks I don't remember nothing and he acts like everything is normal, but I do remember. Perfect and clearly.

"Good morning, darling." He kisses my forehead and keeps reading the newspaper.

"Good morning." I reply coldly. "I have to go, bye" Before I can go out, he stands up and walks to me.

"You won't have breakfast?" 

He knows me so much. And yes, that is sarcasm. In the past years, I've never eaten breakfast.

"No."

"I hope you're not one of those anorexic girls who don't eat. I have to work to get the food. I don't care if something happens to you or if you're starving, the food won't be wasted in this house. Get it?"