All Grown Up

It was hard to grow up always hearing how ugly and stupid I was. How I would never amount to anything. How I should kill myself like my parents supposedly did. Hearing that every day for ten plus years is bound to take a toll on you. 

I tried, I tried to block them out; not let them get to me, but I can only do so much. After a while you just give up. You give up on everything. You do stuff to try and make the pain go away, but it's only temporary. The pain comes back. And so does the self harming. It's always there. It never fully goes away. You're left with the product of your actions. They're there to remind you of what you did and what you went through. They're like a road map of your life.

Open your door. I'm outside. 

I pulled my hair into a messy bun and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. A text like that from Ian was not how I wanted to get woken. Especially after staying up late with the lads and girls last night. I opened the door and stumbled back when Ian barged in. 

"I just--" I cut him off. "Will you be quiet? Everyone's still sleeping," I whisper-shouted. 

His eyebrows furrowed. "Who's 'everyone'?" 

"The girls, their friend Katie, and the lads," I replied, not meeting his eyes. His eyes narrowed. "That fucking arse is here, isn't he?" 

"Yes, but don't make a big deal about it," I started. "Let's just go outside and talk." He pulled me to the kitchen and out the sliding glass door to the balcony. I shut it behind us softly and turned to face him with a sigh. I'm in for it.

"I just want to know one thing," he started, being eerily calm. I nodded, waiting for him to continue. "Why him? After everything he did to you; why him?"

I shrugged. "You have to move on from the past sometime," I answered. "It was only holding me back and breaking me down." 

"So everything he said, everything he did, doesn't matter anymore? He's the reason you have scars. These scars!" He gripped my hands and held them up, to show the scars on my wrists. I ripped my hands out of his grip and glared at him. "Sure he was one of the main reasons I did that, but I was the one who put the blade to my skin and cut! Not him!" I snapped. 

"You ruined you body because of that bastard, it's covered in scars, are you happy now?" He questioned loudly. 

I scoffed. "Do you honestly think I did it to be happy?"

"Why else would you?"

"To make the pain go away, to temporarily numb myself," I replied just as loudly. "Don't talk about me and what I went through like you actually understand. Because you never will."

He pulled at his hair and let out a gutteral growl. "Go back to ignoring me, Ian. Let me live my life. You aren't my dad."

Now it was his turn to scoff. "You're right, I'm not your dad! If I was, I would have killed that fucker by now! I'm just trying to protect you, Ana, don't you get that?!"

Before I could scream something back at him, the sliding glass door opened and there stood Harry. His curly hair was going every which way and the bro tank covering his chest was all wrinkled. God, he looked good. "What's going on out here?" He asked, sleep still in his voice. 

Ian glared. "Nothing, pretty boy." He looked at me and then back to Harry. "You hurt her and I'll fucking kill you." With that said, he pushed past Harry and stomped off. The front door slamming could be heard a few seconds later. 

Harry stared at me with his eyes wide open and shock clear on his face. It took him a few minutes to finally be able to speak, but when he did, he stuttered. "H-How did he... um, how did h-he find o-out?"

"It's a long story." I sighed.


"Niall, I have to get off here and workout," I groaned. 

He'd kept me on the phone for the last half hour. And he was talking about stupid stuff. It was absolutely mental how long he could talk about his favorite bag of crisps. 

"OH! Can I come workout with you? Where do you workout at?" He rambled.

"If I tell you, will you stop talking about stupid shit?" 

"Yep!" 

Praise Jesus. "At the studio I work at on the very top floor. The code for the front door is zero-four-one-seven. Come on up when you get here." We hung up and I hooked my phone up to the stereo. Paramore Radio on Pandora started blaring from the speakers. First to play was For A Pessimist, I'm Pretty Optimistic. By the time that song was over, I was at a good pace on the treadmill and didn't plan on stopping any time soon. 

I just wanna run, hide it away
Run because they're chasing me down
I just wanna run, throw it away
Run before they're finding me out
I just wanna run

I just wanna run
I'm out here all alone
I try to call your house
Can't reach you on the phone
I'll gather up the nerve--

"You listen to something other then rap!?" I about pissed my pants. Looking over toward the door, I saw Harry and Niall. They were both in basketball shorts and bro tanks, with their running shoes on.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people like that," I spoke over the music. Now I had to stop running. Shit. I gradually slowed it down until I was at a complete stop, then I hopped off and turned the volume down. "So, why'd you come with Niall?"

Harry looked at me as if to say 'you're-really-asking-that-question'. "I need a good workout," he shrugged. 

I smirked. "You are a little flabby in some places."

He feigned hurt, covering his heart. "Well I never!"

Niall was busy laughing, so I told them they could use any machine they wanted before getting back on the treadmill. Running was like dancing to me; it gave me time to think things over and calm down. It blew off a ton of steam. This was what I did every Sunday, but today I actually needed it. Having Ian blow up on me and say those things, got to me. 

I didn't know when we would speak again. Or if we ever would. When he asked me if I was happy I had ruined my body for him... it just hit me in a certain spot. It's like he was using my past against me. You never use someones past against them. You never judge someone by their past. Never.  

My Poppy always said, "If you find it necessary to judge me by my past, don't be surprised when I find it necessary to put you there."

Bringing up someones past is like smacking them in the face for no reason. You just don't do it. That stuff is in the past for a reason. It happened in the past and it needs to stay there. Don't bring it up just because they choose to do something you don't agree with. Let them live their lives and do what they want. They're their own person; they can take care of themselves.