Tattered Secrets

It was around three and a half months later when Harry had said he wanted us to become more serious. Almost every night I would spend at his, leaving before it ever really got light with the same rehearsed lie projecting out of my mouth like vomit.

At some point everything had changed with Noah as well, I was sure I was in love with him – not Harry, because we had been going out since we were fifteen, he was everything to me. This fling with Harry was just an infatuation, a thrill I got every time I cheated: it was wrong, and I knew that completely.

Yet when I woke up that morning I couldn’t tell that things changed and people turned into monsters. It wasn’t something I could predict and I didn’t think twice about it and just showed up at his house like he had asked.

My palms felt slightly clammy when he opened the door with the most suffocating intense look in his eyes. He allowed an eerie smile to shadow his features as if he was on a secret that I didn’t know about.

“Flora, baby, come sit down.” My ears perked up at that and I hesitantly nodded before resting myself on the small plush leather couch. He sat down opposite me whilst watching me with a scrutinising stare. My feet started tapping and shaking repeatedly before he laid his large hand and squeezed my thigh.

My worry dissipated then and I permitted myself to breathe in more without any reluctance. Like a twig that was stepped over, he snapped, squeezing my thigh too roughly and causing me to whimper at the pain.

He retracted his hand and I opened my mouth to speak but it snapped closed when I looked at my thigh through the rip in my jeans, inflamed red stared back at me. “What was that for?” I pathetically inquired quietly, having no strength in my body.

“You’re a whore, Florence, a giant fucking slut!” he shouted, jumping on his feet and towering over me with dominance, “you’ve been kissing me with that whore mouth, whilst you had your lips on other guys’ cocks.”

“Shut up,” I seethed, my face turning a scorching flame and my eyes drawn in slits.

He took a step closer, the air in my chest felt tight. “What did you say?” His voice was menacing and I gulped, afraid of the way he spat his words. “Say it again! Come on, you little slag, say it again!”

“Shut up!” And I had repeated those two words to him three times, maybe four before he grabbed my hair and pulled me to the floor. My scalped burned and my eyes brimmed with tears but I never let them fall – never wanted to show how weak I was.

“You’ve been sleeping with so many guys in this city I’m so fucking ashamed to be seen with you. I never want to see you ever,” and just when I thought he was done he leaned over and grabbed a handful of my hair again, pulling me towards him with such strength I thought my hair was going to fall off. “What are you?”

“Let go of me! Maybe I was cheating on you because you never fulfilled me!”

That hadn’t been the right thing to have said because he dropped me to the ground and my backside hit the graphite flooring with a sudden force. My body felt frail and my chest heaved loudly. “Say that you’re a slut Florence! Admit that you’ve slept with so many guys and have done nothing but whore around behind my back, making me looking like a fucking fool! How many guys, Florence? Ten, twenty? One guy wasn't enough, you were greedy and selfish, you wanted more. That's what a whore wants.”

My mind flew to Harry and I knew I had to see him immediately so I leaped up to my enervated and limp feet and ran towards the door, not even seeing Noah flinching. He had let me go and my heart felt heavy with guilt but I just wanted to see a pair of green eyes stare down at me as if I was the key to happiness and be wrapped up in the warmest arms I knew.

Harry opened the door and promptly closed the door in my face after seeing me. He had known – Noah had made sure he told him – and he wouldn’t want to see me again.

“Harry please open the door! Please,” my voice was tainted with dejection and I continued pleading to the closed door, “I can explain everything, please.”

When Harry's voice croaked, "go away Flora," my heart sunk to my stomach, breaking along the way.

In that moment, as a tear rolled down my cheek and I sunk down the wall, I believed Noah when he called me a whore because that’s what I was.

Notes

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