Ella

February 19th, 2018

Dear Christian,

Do you remember when we went to that little river that was in the middle of nowhere? I told you I wanted to go on an adventure, and it was always like you to know the perfect spot. You led us through weird trails, and some of them had the prettiest little creeks and streams with sand that was so breathtaking I just had to walk through it barefoot. It was the most beautiful place I had ever been. The weather was perfect that day. Don't you remember? The sun was shining so brightly, but it wasn't hot. There was a breeze that made the strands of the hair in my braid go every which way, and you caught one of those strands and said you loved my hair like that.

Do you remember when you convinced me to go down onto a private dock? I have never trespassed anywhere before, but with you I felt like I was invincible. It felt dangerous, and that's a feeling I've never felt before. We got down onto the bottom of that dock, put our feet in the water, and for the first time in a long time I thought nothing could be better than that moment between us. The silence, the melody of the birds, and the sound of that little creek calmed my mind of all the fears I ever had.

Last week I went to the same little creek we once sat at. Did you know that going there alone doesn't have the same effect? It turns out the melody of the birds doesn't sound like a song anymore. They seemed loud, almost like they didn't want me to be there. The gentle creek now laps heavily, covering all of the pretty rocks we once stared at. I didn't get silence. I didn't get calm.

I guess it turns out that you were the reason it was so calm. You were the melody. You were the peaceful silence.

Now I have nothing.

___________

Another week with Patrick only felt like two days. We've been inseparable ever since the night he apologized, and it wasn't up to me to hang out with him because he wouldn't let me out of his sight. He was outside of my door every single night at around eleven, and from there we'd go onto the beach and stay out there until the early hours of the morning.

Spending every waking second with Patrick made my days so much better knowing there was someone to wake up to. His phone calls are what I live for every night to make sure he gets home okay, and when he came to visit me at work yesterday I didn't know what to say when he held more flowers in his hand, almost looking like the ones he had given to me on our first date.

"For you." He had said, kissing me on the cheek. "I'm sorry, again."

After that my grandparents came into the shack and talked more to him, my grandpa being colder than usual after he found out what happened between us. I know that he's just trying to look out for me, but I wish he were easier on him. Patrick looked like he was going to pass out.

"Maybe you could come over for dinner." My grandpa said. "We could get to know you better and see if you'd be a good fit for Ella."

I don't think I've ever been so embarrassed, and I tried to say no but Patrick shook my grandfather's hand, giving him one of those dazzling smiles that could win anyone over. Having him over for dinner just makes things that much more official that we're together, although I don't think any of his friends know yet. Patrick told the truth when he said we'd stay away from his friends, and now the only one that gives us confused glances is Jess when she works with me and sees him at the shack. He never kisses me in front of her since I'm not too fond of the whole public affection thing, but I still think she knows there's something going on.

Now I'm sitting here waiting on Patrick's arrival for him to have dinner with all of us and I can't be more nervous. I don't think he'll mess up or anything, but there's always that fear of having it end in disaster and having my grandpa kick him out or something. I don't want him to be disapproved of, but when he shows up with another bouquet of flowers, this time being for my grandmother, I feel my cheeks immediately flush with excitement. My grandmother wraps him in one of her huge hugs as she thanks him for the flowers, causing the biggest smile on my face. She was in one of her typical fancy teenage outfits; a pair of white shorts with a silver sequined tank top, and Patrick locks eyes with me for a quick second as if to say, does she seriously dress like this every day?

"You didn't need to bring anything dear." My grandmother assures him, grasping the flowers in her hand. "But these are so lovely. Bob, look at these!"

I watch her hustle into the backyard where my grandpa is grilling the steaks before I finally am able to talk to Patrick alone. He's wearing one of his button down dress shirts, and instead of going with his typical choice of khaki shorts he's wearing jeans, which look utterly amazing on him. Knowing that he's my boyfriend now is still shocking to me, and when I stare at him it becomes even more unreal. I feel like I'm in a dream, and that at any given second I'll wake up back in D.C.

"I didn't properly say hello to you." He whispers, pulling me in for a kiss. "You look beautiful, but that's nothing new."

"And you are too nice Patrick. I think you look adorable in your button down."

Patrick actually blushes when I say that and I want to kiss him again, but my grandpa comes inside and thanks him for the flowers, inviting him in more so we can all sit around the table to eat. I never expected this to be some huge occasion, but my grandma went all out. Apart from the steaks my grandpa had just grilled up there was macaroni salad, homemade bread and steaming corn on the cob. The place settings looked like something you'd see in a magazine or something.

"Wow grandma." I laugh, taking a seat next to Patrick. "You sure went above and beyond for this."

"Yeah." Patrick agrees. "It all looks fantastic. Thank you so much."

I glance over at him and can't stop doing that the entire meal. To listen to him talk about the stories he's never told me to my grandparents, like when he went to Disney World with his family in Florida and threw up after Space Mountain, or when he tells them he's an honor roll student, practically straight A's. I never knew he was so smart or so dedicated to school. I just thought he was some asshole of a jock when I first met him, but like he's told me before, I'm not what I expected him to be. The more seconds I spend with him the more I'm falling for him, and there is nothing I can do to stop my heart from wanting to burst out of my chest every second I'm with him.

"So what do you want to go to school for?" My grandma asks him.

"I'm hoping to get a scholarship somewhere from basketball, but my goal is to get my bachelors in teaching. I love kids. Teaching is something I'm really interested in doing."

I can totally picture him doing that. Patrick being a teacher is such a funny thing to think about. Him being in a dress shirt and dress pants every day with a tie, having little kids run around him as he tells them what to do. He'd be perfect at that, and when I grab his hand under the table he smiles such a big smile I think I'll melt.

My grandpa goes into detail about how he went to school for teaching and how the economy might not exactly be good to him for wanting a degree in that. Patrick doesn't get upset though. Instead he just nods his head in understanding and explains how he'll make sure to be careful. Then, when we're all finished eating Patrick offers to help my grandma in the kitchen to clean up the dishes, which she delightfully accepts. I help too and carry some of the plates in for them, but when I come out to grab more I see my grandpa smiling at me with one of his famous smiles. The one where a little dimple comes out just on his right cheek, his lips turned up ever so slightly.

"What?" I laugh, picking up another plate. "Why are you smiling like that?"

"I like him Ells." He says. "I really like him. I can see you like him too."

"I do. A lot actually."

"Are you planning on continuing this relationship when you go back to DC?"

There it is, the heart wrenching question I would do anything to avoid. I don't want to think about leaving, but in a little under two months I'll be driving back to the place I really don't want to be. Where I want to be is here with Patrick, but unfortunately that just can't happen. It hurts like hell.

"I don't know." I reply honestly. "I don't know what's going to happen."

He's about to say something else, but then my grandma comes in and asks if we all want to go out for ice cream before we watch a movie. I politely decline because I don't really need the extra calories, but my grandpa wants to go so they leave, warning us that they'll be back in twenty minutes or so. It's not like Patrick and I would do anything more anyways, so I don't know why they're so worried. To get rid of the time though I decide to show Patrick the house and start with the living room, then the small little reading nook my grandma loves to spend her days in until we finally reach my room.

My bedroom isn't much, it's not anything exquisite or anything, but Patrick seems fascinated as he picks up the little seashells that are on the shelf. I tell him about how I used to collect them when we came down here, then he tells me about how he used to do that too and that he has a box in his closet in his room. I really want to see his room. I wonder what it looks like. He probably has a bunch of basketball trophies and awards and whatnot aligned on big wooden shelves, pictures of him as a kid plastered all over the place too. Hopefully I'll be able to see it at some point.

"What's this?" He asks, picking up a jewelry box. When I realize which one it is it makes my whole entire body stiffen.

"Oh, that? It's uh, just something my grandpa gave me. It's kind of stupid. Please don't-"

He opens it without my permission, a picture of my father and I lying still in the box. The tears come into my eyes and I try to blink them away. I hate looking at that picture. It makes me sick to my stomach, and in this moment I just know Patrick is about to find out everything I don't want him to.

"El, is this your dad?"

___________

It's around twelve at night when I hear the screaming. I shoot up in my bed suddenly, the blood draining from my face when I realize it's my mom.

I throw open the door and barge into her room without permission, seeing my dad with his hands around her throat. She's gasping for air, hitting the comforter to try and make noise. My first instinct is to tackle my father, so that's exactly what I do. I push my weight against him with all of my might, and he stumbles backwards as my mom gasps for air once she can finally breathe again. I don't have time to cry because everything seems to be happening so suddenly. All I can do is stare at my father in fear of what he's going to do next.

His eyes angrily flash towards mine as he drunkenly tries to stand up from the floor. He comes closer, waving a finger into my face. "Get out of here." He snarls, stepping between my mom and I. "This doesn't concern you."

"You're going to kill her!" I scream back to him, glancing towards my mom. She's huddled up into the blanket sobbing her eyes out, unable to function from what just happened. "Mom, why are you letting him do this to you? This isn't right!"

"Honey, just go back to bed." She whispers shakily, looking fearfully at my father. "Please."

"So he can choke you again?" I shout. "So I can continue to hear him hit you like I've had to for the past three years? I'm ending this, mom. He's not going to hurt you anymore. Let's go."

In seconds I feel a sharp blow to my face. It stings immensely, so my hand immediately reaches up to feel the place he had just hit. I stare at him in shock until my mom screams louder than she has all night, yelling at him to try and stand up for me. This time I feel tears streaming down my cheeks, my emotions finally coming out. This is all some nightmare that I am dying to wake up from.

"The both of you aren't going anywhere." He chuckles. "We're a family, remember?"

I'm sobbing now when he grabs my mom by the hair and throws her onto the ground, laughing his full head off. Before I realize what I'm doing, I run out the door and down the staircase, ignoring the pleas for me to come back. I'm going to go to a neighbor's house, I'm going to call the police, I'm going to do something. The last thing I'm going to do is sit around any longer and watch this happen.

"Ella!" She screams from upstairs. I'm already out the door though, hearing my father's feet thud down the steps in an attempt to try and catch me. I'm already out the door though, and thankfully our neighbor Ms. Patterson is sitting in her car that's parked in her driveway. I run in front of her car, the headlights blinding my eyes.

"Please help us!" I scream. "Please!"

__________

He hasn't looked up from the photo that he is now twirling between his fingertips, the little girl in the picture having the biggest smile on her face as she sits on her dad's shoulders in her swimsuit on the beach, unaware of the horrible man he truly was behind closed doors.

"Uh, yeah." I finally choke out, realizing I haven't answered. "It is."

He focuses his attention on me when he notices I'm starting to cry and places the picture back in the box, sitting down beside me on the bed so he can hold my hand. I don't notice it until his fingers collide with mine, but I'm shaking. I'm shaking out of anger when all of the memories come flooding back into my head, each one being so distinct and so life like it's almost as if they just happened.

"My dad wasn't exactly the nicest person." I try to explain. "I haven't spoken to him in years."

"Why not?"

"Because he's an alcoholic. I think it was almost eight years ago when I noticed it the first time. He'd drink until he could hardly stand, and when I was in my room I'd hear my mom crying, I'd hear the slamming and the hitting, I'd piece two and two together, and that's how I'd spend my nights. I'd spend them worrying, praying and hoping that night wouldn't be the night that I'd last talk to my mom. All because that stupid son of a bitch hit her."

After I say that it's silent, just like I knew it would be. My sniffles are the only thing you can hear before he wraps his arms around me and pulls my body closer to his.

"When did he leave? Is your mom still with him?"

"No, she's not still with him. The day he hit me was when we both left and moved to Washington."

His fists clench around my waist and I can't be positive, but it seems like he mutters something incoherent that I can't make out. Nobody in my life have I ever told this to, but I can't think of a better person to tell than Patrick. With his arms around me it just feels right. I feel so protected and so safe. It's a feeling I can't describe.

"I would have punched the hell out of him." He finally says. "Anyone who lays a hand on you is a worthless piece of scum. I am so sorry that happened. Did he try and talk to you or something that day at the mall? Is that why you called me?"

"I just saw him there. He didn't try to talk to me though, and don't be sorry, I don't need pity. What happened is over with and the past is in the past, but you wanted to know. That's the reason I don't drink."

"Well, I don't blame you. I can promise you that you will never have to worry about that with me because I'm not your dad, I'm never going to be. I'm going to treat you like you deserve to be treated for once in your life. I'm sorry for what I did, and now that I know this I'm one hundred times more sorry. I don't deserve you in the least-"

I'm kissing him before I can tell myself not to as he climbs on top of me, my back landing on the mattress and his laughter surrounding the room.

"You deserve me Patrick." I whisper breathlessly, even though nobody else is home. "You're such an incredible person. If I didn't one hundred percent believe that then I wouldn't have told you about, well, you know..."

"Your dad?"

"Yeah. I've never told anyone about him, but I told you because you mean a lot to me. It's been a little over a month since we've known each other, and I don't know how time flies by so quickly, but I can't be more thankful for you. You've changed everything about me Patrick."

We go back to kissing some more, and then somehow my top is off and his is off too, his hands roaming to places I don't mind. He leaves kisses on my neck, starting to move them lower, each and every nerve in my body coming undone at his touch.

"I'm so into you." He smiles at me again. "I love the things you say."

Never in a million years did I ever think this sentence would ever pop into my head, but it did and there isn't anything I can do to stop it. It's too soon to say it out loud, but I thought it and god, I really mean it. I want to say it, I want to blurt it out right here and now, but I get choked up, all of the words twisting around and not making any sense.

"Thank you." Is what ends up coming out, but that isn't what I want to say. What I really and truly want to say is I love you. 

A/N:

Wowww!!! I loved writing this chapter!

Shoutout to getting to #4 in the hashtag "plus size" that's freaking awesome!

Please comment/vote if you enjoyed this chapter :) 

LOVE YOU ALL!! 

Can't wait to release the next one!

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