Smiles Hide Secrets

Darkness too

Very important author’s note at the end, so if you don’t read it, I’m kicking your ass into the crocs store. See how you like that.

Delilah’s POV

Tension is thick in the air; you could cut through it with a knife. My heartbeat accelerates by just taking a look at all of their faces, all of my friend’s faces. I feel terrible, nauseated even, at the mare fact that I was too much of a coward to not tell them before.

Dylan has to be the worst out of all of them; his eyes show hurt, betrayal, anger, and deep inside—love.

I agreed to come to Niall’s room, one day after my panic attack, where a civilized talk was promised to take place. It took a lot of talking up on Harry’s side, but here we are.

I swallow hard and lick my dry lips, squeezing Harry’s hand before speaking up, “Where do I start?”

“The beginning?” Dylan spits at me, and that’s when I truly see how hurt he is. He is masking his pain with anger, but I can see that he’s not truly mad. He’s hurt. And I wish it would be the other way around, I wish he were mad, because hurting your best friend is the worst feeling in the world.

I swallow hard and close my eyes, taking a deep breath and mentally preparing myself for this. I’ve gone over what I was going to say more times that I can count, yet my mind is as blank as the written test of a slacker.

“It started in Australia, when Nick was in the accident,” I decide to start from the beginning—the one direction lads deserve that much, “It was no secret to our family that I was not wanted by my parents. And no, I was not okay with that. But I had learned to live with it. The day Nick was sent to the hospital though, that-that day everything changed.”

I look at Dylan, and try to swim past all the emotions in his eyes, seeing my past playing in his eyes. “Luke, he changed, which hurt. We were all too blinded by the accident I had caused, so I let him be like that. My parents started putting more and more pressure on me, making me practically their servant. I was to do well in school, clean the house everyday, and do the laundry for everyone. It all went downhill from there.”

I decide to leave out the details, that are too personal, “Point is, I started getting scared. I was locked in a basement for a week, with very little water and food supplies. Everyone was convinced I was away in France, in some trip. That was the last straw, a week after that I was gone. I told my parents that they either let me go, or I would file a police report. I had the evidence, and they knew it. I also started getting my emancipation papers done, but I didn’t have the money for an attorney.”

“When I got to London I finished my A levels a year early, online, and started up my YouTube. I swore to myself I would start over, be a completely new person. I got rid of the shy, nerdy, artsy little Delilah and became this outgoing, loud, party animal I despised. It just wasn’t me.”

Tears cascade down my cheeks by this point, but I let them fall. I take a deep shaky breath and brace myself for what’s to come, “I met you guys then. A year after I had moved. Six months before that I met, I met M-Mike.”

At the mention of his name Harry and Louis visually tense, and I feel myself chocking on my own words. A tremble runs down my spine, making Harry wrap his arm around my waist instead.

“I uh, he was, he was really sweet at first. He would take me out on dates, call me sweet pet names, hold my hand, and take walks around the park with me. Then, slowly, he started changing. He would call me at 1am drunk during the week, and he’d be disturbingly touchy. I brushed it off; I kept telling myself that it was a face. That he was under a lot of stress from Uni. I then found his spliff*, and I just couldn’t believe it. By that point I was scared. One week later you came into my life. He was overly possessive, so once he saw that live stream he made sure to take me out plenty. To bars and pubs and stuff. He’d make me wear this slutty dresses and he’d be drunk or high most of the time.”