Until Your Last Breath

Peyton Grey was just an ordinary girl. Well, an ordinarily invisible girl. All through her primary and secondary school life, she was bullied, picked on, and shot down by every male body in the city of London, England. Her parents - split. Her friends - nonexistent. There is only one person in this whole world that can make her feel safe and at home, and that is her best friend, Harry. They've been attached at the hip for as long as they could remember, and whenever she's with him, she feels complete. He says he'll be here for her forever, but her world is flipped upside down after one simple event changes the course of history. Will they rekindle the love between them, or will the incident make them question, "Will you be here until my last breath?"

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2. Home Sweet Home

Peyton's POV : The rest of the day went by in its normal fashion. The occasional insult here, the incessant stares there. Harry was always there to comfort me, but honestly, it wasn't that big of a deal. At this point, I was used to being bullied. It's a little sad, but it's kind of my daily routine. I think if I wasn't used to it, then we could say there was a problem.
After last period, Harry and I jumped into his car and he drove me to my home, right across the street from his. Walking me to my front door, he stopped short, something obviously on his mind. He spoke up, "Hey, Peyt, my mom bought this new dish set, and she's dying to show them off. Would you wanna come over for dinner tonight?" I smiled at him, "Yeah, I'll be over around six." He nodded and proceeded to cross the street to his house. I watched as he unlocked the door, pushed it open, and stepped inside. Turning to face my house, I exhaled roughly. I could only imagine what was waiting for me inside.
Just then, the wind picked up, and I realized how cold it was becoming. It was only mid October, and it felt like winter was right around the corner. I turned the doorknob and entered into a world of painful memories. After my parents' divorce, there was always an emptiness lingering through the house. My mom tried to play it off, like the split didn't send her into a downward spiral leading to depression, but there was no fooling me. I was there for her through it all, so I knew better than anybody, especially my worthless father, how much this affected our family. For years, my household consisted of a broken, drug abusing mother and a lost and lonely teenage girl.
I cautiously stepped into the living room, the smell of cigarette smoke suffocating my lungs. My mom sat in her chair, blankly gazing at the wall. "Hi, mom. I'm home from school," I said to her, almost whispering. Her eyes snapped to pierce into mine, something you might see in a horror movie. "Peyton, what did I tell you to do this morning before you went to school," she asked me, although it was more of a test than a question. I looked down at my shoes, remembering my mistake. "You, umm, you told me to pick up a six pack at the grocery store," I answered her. Oh yeah, did I mention she's an alcoholic, too? She stood abruptly, slamming her glass of gin on the coffee table. Her breathing was heavy, and her face started turning red. "So then why didn't you get my beer?" She slapped me across my face, sending me flying to the ground. I clutched my cheek in my hands, and I could only see out of one eye. She brought her face level to mine, and yelled, spitting as the words left her mouth. "Get upstairs and don't even think about coming back down, you ungrateful slut."
Discarding her remark, I grabbed my backpack and raced up the stairs, locking my bedroom door behind me. I collapsed on my bed, using this time to allow my breathing to slow. Before I knew it, tears were staining my cheeks, sending a shockwave of pain thorough the welted area of my face. I gathered myself and walked to my bathroom, almost scared to look in the mirror and reveal my image. What I saw on my face could not have been predicted. My entire cheek was red and swollen, my eye almost completely shut. It was a horrific sight, and knowing it came from my own mother made the pain that much worse. I looked back up at myself, my pupils locking onto the gaze of my reflection. Tears began to fall again as I took a deep breath and said, "Home, sweet, home."
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