nobody's home; harry styles.

0.4.

As soon as Harry is gone -with my cigarettes and lighter-, I buy a new one. This time I'll be careful because I want to make Harry believe that I stop smoking, or at least trying it; I don't want to see him again and if I have to lie to him, I will. Even though is not going to be easy, I mean, he is my neighbor.

"Cass, you have to stop running away, they'll catch you and you'll get into a lot of trouble." Zayn speaks, cutting off the silence. We're both sitting on a branch of my tree, the day is neutral today.

"I wasn't going to enter the classroom again, the teacher would've asked me why were they calling me in the nursing room, you know. What was I going to tell her? That it was a lie?"

"Yes, at least you would have blamed Ha-" I interrupt him.

"That would've started rumors and, lately, I'm not handling it very well."

For the first time, we are not smoking while we're taking. Strange.

"Okay. I have to go, Cass." He kisses my cheek but before he's able to go I take his hand.

"Why are you going so fast?" I ask, furrowing my brow.

"Because my mother keeps inviting men at home and you know, she's looking for some rich man to marry him." He snorts, annoyed.

Zayn's relationship with his mother is difficult. Not the best, though; they get along like cats and dogs. Zayn's mother is nice but she's a whore.

The word 'whore' reminds me of my father calling my mother that, I shouldn't use it. I hate it.

"Good luck, then." We get down of the tree, he goes to his house and I stay outside.

I need to smoke although I can't because Harry is always close.

I haven't talked to Harry, which is a good sign. My life without Harry is a little bit better, I mean, I don't have too much to worry about.

I go inside of my house, John has already arrived. 

"Hello, sweetheart." He kisses my forehead. I want to puke.

Without paying attention to what he's saying, I go upstairs and sit on my bed letting out a tired sigh.

"Cassandra! Come downstairs right now!" John yells from the kitchen, I guess.

Ugh, I hate him so much. Here comes the typical speech in which he blames me for something I didn't do and after that, it will come the usual hit. This is my damn rutine.

I go downstairs and reluctantly approach the kitchen.

"What's going on?" I ask wearily.

"Why is there a cigarette on the trash? Have you been smoking?" He questions me.

"Why do you care? I correct, since when do you care?" I confront him. After all, someday I will have to treat him the way he deserves and it seems that today is that day. 

"You're so impolite! You're a shit!" As soon as he finished talking, his hand had already crashed into my face.

My lovely father.

I touch my cheek and stare at his reactions, I'm feeling so hurt. Not just physically but emotionally, I still don't get used to this.

"I'm the shit? Do I hit you or scream at you? If I smoke it's for a fucking reason. And you know what? You are that fucking reason!" I yell, completely angry, hurt and tired.

"Go to your room, you won't have dinner tonight." He says to me in a calm tone. 

He thinks that I take it as my punishment. If only he knew...