Addicted // Harry Styles

Chapter 11

Rachel's POV

Sigh.

Harold actually agreed to do the drama script. Yes you heard me right, Harold agreed to do the drama script with me, though i'm sure that there had to be a catch here some where along the lines, he could not have just agreed like that.

"Are you serious? you are actually going to do it?" i ask, looking forward at him 

"yes"

My lips turn up slowly as a smile now begins to etch its way onto my face. "Really?" i ask again, excited at the fact that he did indeed say yes.

"Stop it!" he shouts "do you want me to do the stupid drama thing or not?" 

"Yes, OK, jeez, drama queen, calm down" i tease looking at him.

His eyebrows furrow with disgust on his face, causing a crease to appear down the middle of his eyebrow line. His nostril become flared as he exhaled loudly and deeply i may add. He does not know when to take a joke, obviously. 

"Thank you" i speak, making the silence between us disappear. He curtly nods, making that his reply back. 

He pulls his phone out of his shorts pocket and checks the time, as if he has somewhere else to be. He speaks up whilst putting the phone back where it came from.

"I've gotta go, i'll see ya" and with that he left, not even giving me chance to reply to him as i watched his figure get further and further away down the path leading to the hill. 

~*~*~

I am currently sat on my bed, with my journal in front of me, trying to think of some ideas for this script that we have to be working on. Yet so far the ideas i have come up with is a massive zero. There were none. My mind was completely blank. The day had dragged on from this morning at the hill and time didn't seem like it was going to be hurrying up any time soon. 

I haven't even made any friends yet at this college because of the coas around this script which is kind of sad because i have nobody to hang out with, to talk to. Only him, But even with him i didn't have a number to contact so i just sat looking at nothing, spacing out with silence surrounding me. 

A bang come from downstairs, meaning the front door had been opened and somebody was entering. There could only be one possibility. One person, my mother.

"Rachel are you in!?" she shouts from downstairs. "Rachel!" she pushes.

"Yes mother, i am in, what do you want?" i replied, making my voice louder so she could hear me from my bedroom. A repetitive thud started and creaking would happen every few seconds as i heard my mother trundle up the stairs. She didn't even knock. She barged straight into my room, me looking up at her and then creasing my eyebrows as i examined her face, looking over at the bruised eye that had peeked out from behind her make up. Either she had attempted to cover the mark up or it had come off when she had gotten it. 

"what happened?" i question.

"what?" she doesn't understand at first until it hits her what i was on about "oh, nothing" 

"something obviously happened, mum. Tell me" 

"Nothing happened" she repeats.

Sigh.

"seriously mum, just tell me ok-" she cuts me off

"Shut the fuck up, if i knew you were going to be this questioning, i should have sent you to live with your father" she screams

Ouch!

Never has my mother spoke to my like that, ever. I was gobsmacked. My jaw had altered slightly as it opened a tad, not believing that she had just screamed at me like that. I can already feel the tears that have started to form in my eyes but i do not want them to fall at this point. I was not going to give her the satisfaction of reply to her so instead i just got up, her gaze on me as i manoeuvred around my room to my wardrobe. 

I scan the clothes that i have in my wardrobe and pull out a simple little black dress and added some black heeled pumps. My mother was watching my every move, as if i was going to break something. I head to my dressing table and combing a brush through my hair, fixing it but not doing much, leaving it as it was throughout the day. I went into the bathroom and changed my attire. 

"Where do you think you're going?" my mother intrigued as soon as i stepped my foot back into my room.

"out" was all i could reply with.

I grab my phone and some money placing it into my little black clutch purse and go to walk out of the door. My mother grabbing my arm back causing me to speak.

"Let go of me" i growl, not in the mood of my mother anymore.

"No, you are not going out" she demands

"I think you will find that i am and i will. Maybe i will go and stay with dad, huh, mum, is that what you really want?"

Silence.

"Goodbye" 

"Do not walk out of that front door, i am telling you now" she shouts

I carry on, until i reach the door and turn around.

"Goodbye mother. I will come back when you have regained your brain and you have a think about what you have just said and done" 

"I haven't done anything you little bitch, Do not talk to me like that. I am your mother" 

"Yes, and i am not a fucking child anymore. I will be turning 18 in a few months for Christ sake" i argue back

"Language! Young lady" she scolds me

"Ha, my language is calm compared to what i know you're thinking right now" 

"maybe you're right! but one thing i know for sure is that, you were a mistake. I never planned having you. You ruined me and my life. I had to marry your father just because of you. I didn't even know if i loved him but i still had to go through with it because of you. I hated children with a passion and yet here you are!" she admits

I scoff.

"So you are basically saying you hate me? real mature mother, thanks for that. Maybe that is why dad left you in the first place. To be completely honest, i would have done the same thing if i was old enough just so i wouldn't have to be stuck with an evil bitch that i call my mother-"

Smack!

The force of the smack of my right check caused my head to turn a full ninety degrees. The sound echoed throughout the now silent house. The feeling that went through my body as her hand touched my skin was unbearable and would undoubtedly leave a mark, which i would find in the morning. Tears were again starting to form in my eyes as i continued to look at the blank wall in front of me.

That is my life in one picture.

A blank canvas! And it desperately needed painting in a range of colours.

Time to start painting the town! or should i say canvas.

I grabbed my car keys from the cabinet next to me on the wall, put on my black studded leather jacket and walked out of the door without a single goodbye. Leaving my so called mother alone with her thoughts.

By the time it took me to get to my car, i think, not completely sure of, that i had shed at least one tear. How could she have said that? Glad to know that i was a mistake. No wonder i felt so awkward and out of place growing up. I never had a serious bond and upbringing with my parents. They didn't even want me.

I stared at my reflection that was looking back at me in the car mirror and wiped under my eyes. I checked my face to see if there a noticeable red hand across it. In which there was. I fluffed up my hair, using my hands, making it taller than before and looked back into the mirror.

"Time to start painting" i smirked to myself before setting off, knowing the exact place to go.

Get ready canvas, the paint is coming for you.

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