They Say No

Corryn Crislette has wanted, more than anything in her life, to see the world. She wants to sail across the seven seas, and feel the breeze sweep her hair off her face. But with an over-protective stepmother and stepbrother, this is nearly impossible.

Harry Styles just wants a break. He wants to get away from the media, paparazzi, and attention. But how can he possibly do so when he is part of the biggest boy band in the world? His management order him to date another girl who he would never love, and will never approve of someone else in his life.

What do Corryn's stepmother and stepbrother, and Harry's management say?

They say no.

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2. One.

The lightening lets out a crackling scream, but I am not affected by it. I only wish to step out into the rain and feel the natural sweet water on my skin. Lucile says that the rain will give me skin conditions. It is only right to believe her. I bury my nose back into my book, losing myself in the world of characters. How badly do I want to be a character. But I guess am I already a character, in Lucile’s world. I am her puppet and she is the puppeteer. I am to do what she says.

Feeling hungry, I set my book down and tiptoe downstairs. Lucile must be out doing the groceries. Jay is at school. I am at home alone. Of course, the doors are locked and can only be open by a key. To Lucile, I am safe.

To me, I am trapped.

All I have ever wanted is to step outside, feel the green grass underneath my feet. I would never wear shoes, not that I have any of my own. Lucile tells me I have no need for shoes when I stay inside the house my whole life. But that is not what I want.

I have asked Lucile many times, why I cannot leave. Why can it not be I who goes to buy the groceries? Why can it not be I who goes to school? Lucile teaches terribly, if I must say, and most of the time, she fails to teach at all.

I reach up into the cabinets and pull out a bag of crisps, crunchy and nice. It is the only thing Lucile brings home for me that is not a vegetable or fruit. Crisps are my gold. I bring the bag up to my room and sit on my bed, munching, as I stare out at the rain. Sometimes I think Lucile will let me go out on my nineteenth birthday, but I doubt it much so. She has such strong care for me, and I know she only wants me to be safe.

I hear the front door unlock and quickly hide the bag of crisps. Lucile hates when I bring food upstairs.

“Corryn!” she calls, hear voice echoing through the walls.

“Yes, mum?” I answer, though I hate to call her mum. Lucile fits her better. When I don’t hear her reply, I assume she is coming upstairs. I act normal, 4opeing my book once more, just as Lucile walks in.

“How was your day, Corryn?” she asks sweetly, coming over to sit beside me on my bed. I smile up at her warm eyes, showing her my book.

“Just another normal day of reading.” I manage, wishing I could be outside instead. Lucile rakes my hair back gently, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“Dinner will be ready soon,” she tells me, standing up. “Be down in an hour.”

I nod and watch as she leaves.

Lucile is not my mother, though she claims she is. I am what others say, adopted, and Lucile and Jay are my second family. I know this because I have snuck into Lucile’s room once or twice before, and looked through her photo albums. There are no pictures of me, only Jay and Lucile. This makes me sad sometimes. I wonder who my real parents are, but if they gave me for adoption, they must not care who I am.

So I do not care either.

I yawn, glancing at the clock hanging on the wall. It is almost seven in the evening. The rain has stopped, but there is still light thunder in the background. I go over to my window and run my finger down the glass, as if to wipe away the rain drops that are now sweeping down the window. I have never touched real rain in my life, and it is not fair. Jay gets to, all the time. He walks home from his school sometimes, when I cannot step foot outside.

Why me?

When I ask Lucile, she says I cannot leave the house for my own safety. She says that there is much evil out in the real world. For some reason, I do not believe her. I know she is hiding something. Though her eyes are warm, they are cold down deep. I know it. I can feel it.

She is surely not my mother.

I love her anyhow.

When I go down for dinner, I groan silently at the sight of salad on the table. To someone else, it would look delicious, but to have this same salad for as long as I can remember, disgusts me.

“Mum, I’m home!” I hear Jay’s voice yell, and he steps into the dining room, dropping his school bag on the floor. He gives me a small smile before heading into the kitchen, where Lucile is mixing together a bowl of fruits. Fruit salad is the only dessert I have ever had.

I hate it.

Jay hugs Lucile, kissing her on the cheek, before sticking his finger into the bowl of fruit to pull out a grape. Lucile scolds him for doing so, but I see a smile playing on her lips. Lucile and Jay have a bond I will never have with them, because they are true family.

I am not.

When Jay and Lucile have sat down at the table, we begin to eat. Jay tells us about his day at college, and curses his history teacher for giving him a bad grade on a test. I have never taken a test in my life, because Lucile has never given me one. I believe I am okay with that.

Jay and Lucile develop a small conversation while I pick at my salad, putting some into my mouth once in a while to satisfy Lucile when she looks up. It annoys me how they lose themselves in a conversation, forgetting of my existence. I should be used to this, as it happens every meal, but I am not. Suddenly, I pound my fist on the table. All goes silent, and Lucile and Jay are staring at me.

“M-mum,” I begin, developing courage. “When will I be able to go outside?”

I watch as Lucile’s face hardens, and Jay’s eyes turn dark. They always get like this when I ask them the question.

“Corryn, I have told you many times, the outside world is not safe for such a beautiful, smart girl like you.” Lucile says softly, but I can hear her voice straitening.

“How come Jay can leave?” I ask quietly, setting down my fork.

Lucile lets out a frustrated sigh. “Because he is a man. He can defend himself.”

“So can I.”

Jay watches us in silence.

“No,” Lucile growls lowly, “you can not, young lady. Go up to your room immediately.”

I do as I am told.

Because I am her puppet.

And she is the puppeteer.

 

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