TW: Physical abuse. Skip to "end of flashback" if that makes you uncomfortable.
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The words ring in my head like a dvd playing on loop.

Attention whore.

You're dressed like a slut.

You're worthless.

The words are like punches, leaving bruises behind in their trail, all over my body.

My window ledge is quite uncomfortable to sit on, the hard wood makes my tail bone and butt hurt after a while.

School ended an hour ago.

No one else is home yet, which I am grateful for.

I enjoy being alone in my thoughts a lot of the time. Over the years I had to get used to it and find the beauty within it.

Except after my encounter today with Madeline all the memories came flooding back to me. Now my thoughts have a strong grip on my throat, and they're not letting go.

There was a time when I was younger when I had thought that my father was a good man.

He would read me Spanish books from Colombia before I went to bed. He would tickle me until I was crying laughing. He would give me warm hugs.

He made me feel safe.

Life changes though. People change too. Eventually people show their true colors, sooner or later.

As a kid I would see the way he talked to my mother, but I didn't notice anything was wrong until I reached second grade.

I remember that day as if it was yesterday. It's implanted in my brain as one of my most vivid memories.

It's truly agonizing how we tend to remember our worst moments and memories in life rather than the moments in life that brought smiles to our faces.

The sun is shining brightly on my face as I sit on the window, my legs dangling out, hitting the siding of the house with the heels of my feet.

The wind pushes my long hair away from my face as the memory replays itself in my head for the tenth time today.

- Flashback, 2nd grade, 10 years ago -

The wind flowing through my hair feels really nice.

A smile rests on my face thinking about how kind that girl was in class today.

I asked her if I could borrow some of her art supplies for my drawing and she smiled at me and said sure.

People like her remind me that there are nice people in the world.

She probably forgot who I am already, but I don't think she realizes how much sharing her pencils meant to me.

I can't stop smiling.

My thoughts of the nice girl who shared her supplies with me are interrupted due to the sound of my mom and dad talking loudly to each other down the hall.

Hm, I guess I didn't hear them come in earlier.

Turning around on the window I jump back inside my room and pull the window down so no robbers come in and steal my books and stuffed animals. That would be tragic.

I think today I'll ask dad to teach me how to ride a bike. He said that in Colombia he would ride bikes with his cousins all the time and eventually became really good at it.

I want to be really good at it too, so then I can make ma proud of me.

Walking past my mirror I glance at my appearance. Today mama did my hair in two braids before school. They looked pretty earlier except now they're all frizzy from the humidity outside.

Once I open my door the voices of my parents are much louder then before. Dad is screaming at my mom in Spanish. He sounds angry.

Slowly I walk towards the end of the hallway and peek around the wall. They don't see me, but I can see them.

Dad is in mom's face yelling at her, and my mom is pointing her finger in dad's face.

My mouth goes ajar and my eyes go wide. I want to look away but I can't.

"You stupid worthless bitch. I can't believe I ever married you!" My dad's loud voice echos through the house, he thinks no one else is home. My stomach drops.

"You're the one who's never home and always going somewhere and not telling me! I'm raising our children by myself!" A tear trickles down my mother's tired face.

My eyes become blurry and fear takes over me as they continue screaming at each other.

Suddenly dad lifts lift his large hand in the air and smack mama across the face.

A small gasp escapes my throat, but they still don't see me peeking over the corner of the wall. Mom falls to the floor from the hard impact of the slap.

My feet are glued to the floor unsure of what to do. I just stare at the scene in front of me with widen eyes, my brain taking a video that will end up being weaved into my mind for the rest of my life.

When mom gets up I get a good look at her face. A large bright red hand print is imprinted across one side of her face. Her eyes are blood shot. A dot of red appears on her lower lip.

Turning on my heels, I quickly - but making sure to be quiet - run back to my room and gently close the door.

Tears begin falling out of my eyes and I'm unable to stop them. They just keep pouring, salty tears running down my face and into my mouth. I can't stop hiccuping.

I've never seen that side of my dad. I didn't know he did that to mom. Has he done that before?

My sadness turns into to anger as I continue thinking about him.

He loves my mom.

No?

You're not supposed to do that to the people you love. Right?

- End of flashback -

Later that day I didn't ask him to teach me how to ride a bike.

I didn't ask anything of him after that.

Every time I looked at him after that day all I saw was the rage in his eye. All I saw was the way he lifted his hand in the air and knocked the wind out of my mom. I still remember the way my stomach plummeted.

That was the day when the way I viewed my father entirely changed.

My parents still don't know that I saw that. My mom just wondered why I was acting different after that day. She would look at me with a look of confusion on her face when she saw me avoiding my dad at all costs.  It's easy to avoid him though, for the past ten years he has barely been home.

I wanted to bring it up to mom, but every time I tried to the words would get lodged in my throat and tears would start to form in my eyes. 'Till this day I am still too scared to tell her that I saw.

Sometimes I notice a scratch or bruise on her and I wonder where she got it. I try to convince myself that she must've accidentally hit herself or cut herself when cutting vegetables.

Except deep down I know where that mark came from. She thinks I don't know. She thinks I'm oblivious.

For so long I've been torn on what to do. I want him in jail, but in a way I am scared of what will happen to all of us; my mom, my sister, and my brother. I am scared that my mom will hate me because even though my father is an awful man, she still loves him. I see the care and admiration that she looks at him with. It makes me sick.

She deserves someone so much better.  Someone that deserves her.

I promised myself after that day that if he ever did something like that to my mom again I would call the police no matter what. He hasn't from what I know, thank god. Except he's still a rude drunk bitch.

When I'm older and can leave my father in the past for good, I want to take my mom, sister, and brother somewhere far away from him. Except right now I feel helpless.

Soon my father started treating me differently too. His whole demeanor changed. There was no love when he looked at me anymore, just hatred and annoyance.

His words to me changed from "Te quiero más" to "Eres una idiota" over time.  (Translation: I love you a lot.  You are an idiot.)

He doesn't even notice my little siblings, he pays no mind to them. He wasn't the one who stayed up with them and cradled them to go to bed. He wasn't the one who massaged his wife's feet after a long days of work. He wasn't the one who changed his kids diapers when they were babies.

I was. I was the one changing their diapers. I was the one reading them to sleep. I was the one massaging ma's feet. I was the one hugging my family goodnight.

And where was he? The thought floats around my head, unable to be answered.

He reminds me of an unfinished sentence. Or perhaps a question with no answer. Or a question that does have an answer.

Except not a black and white one. But rather the fogged grey line found in between.

~

To escape the suffocating thoughts of my father, I came to the bookstore to buy some more books. I brought twenty dollars with me.  That should be enough to buy at least two books.

The bell above the door rings as I enter.

Mrs. Harp is typing away on her computer, squinting at the screen.  She doesn't even notice me as I stroll past her.  It's quiet today.  A few people are sitting at the tables reading and some are sipping coffee while writing and drawing in notebooks.

The bookstore is like a whole other world. A place with a bunch of papers put together with words on it that transform you into another universe.  It's magical.

Walking over to the fiction section my eyes run over all the different titles and colors of books.

The amount of books and shelves can be kind of overwhelming.

As I walk over to the isle behind me I see a familiar figure sitting against the row of bookshelves.

He remembered.

Or maybe he totally forgot about me and simply just wanted to come and read. Except I'm going to go with my first impression.

He is reading a different book from the one he was reading earlier at school.

How fast does this dude read? My slow ass could never.

A smile makes it's way across my face as I stroll over to him.  I take a seat across from him, his body visibly stiffens and he stops chewing on his pinky nail as he looks up at me.

"Hi." I grin at him, showing my teeth a little.  My legs are crossed with my hands resting on my lap.  His legs are bent up, the book gripped firmly in his hands.

"What?" He looks back down into his book.

"What are you reading?" My eyes skim the books on the shelves behind him.

"A book." His eyes skim the rest of the page before he flips it to next page.

"No fucking shit.  What book is it?" I tilt my head to the side. trying to get a look at the front cover that is covered by his hand.

He uncovers the front of the book.  The End of Everything.

Hm.

My eyebrows pinch together, "What's it about?" It looks like a science type of book.

He looks up at me, "You ask a lot of questions, Luna." He slips a green post it note on the page he was just reading and closes the book.

"Because I'm a very curious person, Owen." I shrug my shoulders at him.

My eye catches the sight of a book behind his head.  I lift myself up on my knees and extend my arm to grab the book.  The side of my arm brushes a bit of his hair.  I hear him suck in a sharp breath. I take my attention off the book for a second and look at his eyes. My eyes go wide realizing how close our faces are.

Leaning back embarrassment floods me as I realize how close I just was to him.  I also remember that I'm still wearing the dress from earlier, which shows a little bit of cleavage.

Oh my God.  He just saw my boobs.

I'll be crying about this later.

He is stiff, looking at me, his ears a little red.  His eyes also went a little large.

I do a fake cough to break the silence and focus back down at the book I just grabbed.

"This looks interesting." My voice cracks at the end of my sentence.

I'm hoping that the bookshelf behind me falls and kills me right now.

He lets out a small cough and diverts his eyes to look out the window to the side of us.

"The Great Alone.  Hm, seems interesting." I run my fingers over the cover of the book.  "I think I'll get this one." I look up at him to see him looking back at me.  His eyes remind me of a cats eyes.

"Want to help me look for another book?" I stand up, making sure to hold my dress down so I don't flash the boy...again.

"Um.  Okay?" He seems shocked by his own answer as he stands up.  God he is almost the size of the damn bookcase.

"You're tall." I look at him with a bare expression.

"No shit." His rolls his eyes and begins walking towards another isle in the bookstore.  "You're tall too." He glances down at me.

"I know." A cocky smile arises on my lips.  I love being tall, I hope he likes his height too.  I know I do.

"What type of books do you like?" He questions me.

"Romance." A small laugh escapes his throat.  I scowl at him.

"What's so fucking funny, Owen?" I mock his name.

"Nothing." He doesn't meet my eyes as we continue walking.

One we arrive to the section I skim over the many shelves of books.

He grabs random books and reads the back summaries, then puts them back while I read over the titles.

A book catches my eye.  The Silent Patient. This isn't even romance? The fuck is this doing here? Except after reading the back it sounds interesting enough to grab my attention.

"I think I'm going to get this one." He grabs it from me and reads the back.

"Why this one?" He examines the cover, running his long fingers over the flowers and words.

"Because I want to." Duh.

If he doesn't want to give me a full answer when I ask him questions then I won't give him full answers when he asks me questions.

I'm quite surprised he is even willingly talking to me right now.

I really wasn't expecting that.

He hums in response.

His phone suddenly dings, and he quickly removes it from his hoodie pocket.

His expression falters and he places his phone back in his pocket. Looking everywhere but my eyes.

"I gotta go. You manage to find me everywhere, so I guess you'll see me later, Luna." He turns around and I watch him walk towards the door.  He pushes it open and the little bell rings when it opens.  I watch him through the glass door until he is out of view.

I can't help but wonder why he had to leave so urgently.

See you around, Owen.