🌹Rosalie🌹

When I was in the first grade, I desperately wanted bangs. I remember asking my mom everyday if I could get them. Just a nice straight cut right across my brow. She said they were too much work and I'd regret it just as soon as I got them. I didn't care, I wanted bangs, and I wasn't going to stop until I got them.

The answer remained no, so I did the only plausible thing left to do and I cut them myself. Now, I don't know if moms have superpowers or what, but she was right, I regretted them the moment the hair fell from my grasp and hit the counter. Not to mention the fact I cut them about an inch above my eyebrow. Yep. Just a solid chunk of hair halfway down my forehead, lopsided in all its glory.

To say my mom was mad that day would be an understatement. I think I saw the red in her eyes. But worse than the anger was the disappointment. She had given me an answer and a reason for her decision, and I still went behind her back and did what I wanted. I betrayed her. I think it was that piece that hurt her the most. The sneaking around, the lie.

I'm standing at the foot of my bed, unsure if sitting or if standing is the right option. Seeing as my heart is still surging in my chest, standing sounds like the proper stance at the moment.

My mom enters shortly behind me, closing my door softly, which I'm sure is more to not alert Darren than a testimony to her emotional level.

She closes her eyes, a breath pulled through her nose and out through her mouth before she opens her eyes and plants them directly on me. "How long?"

I blink a few times, sitting on the edge of the truth and the answer that would sound the best. "A few weeks," I reply, choosing to go with a vague version of the truth.

She nods, taking another one of those slow breaths. "Weeks? Wow, okay. So, when we sent you two to New York alone for Nolan to look at a college...you were already together?"

"Yes."

Another deep breath. This one is heavier, though. She fans herself, pacing across my floor. "Did you stay in your own room while you were there?" She pauses before her brow lifts slightly. "Do you stay in your own room here?"

"Yes," I quickly answer. "I always sleep in my own bed here."

She breathes out what seems to be a breath of relief. "And New York?" she asks.

My heart squeezes within my chest, capturing my breath as I search for the words. "One night I stayed with him." She nods her head, a frantic bob up and down as she soaks in my words. "But nothing happened, Mom. He just...he makes me feel safe."

"Safe?" she questions with a laugh that's far from humorous. "Safe from what?"

Her tone is angry, her eyes filled with confusion. But my heart falls at her question, my breaths shaky as I sort through the answer. I look into her eyes, that same disappointment she had when she looked at my lopsided bangs across my forehead. It's so much heavier this time, filled with so much more pain and fear.

I know what lies deep inside me. I know the truth that carves its jagged knife against my soul each and every day. It's one I've worked so damn hard to bury. One only Nolan has seen. But looking back at my mom, at the one person who has truly stood beside me from the beginning, I know without a single doubt that it's time. My chin quivers, my breaths broken as my eyes fill with tears.

"Myself," I whisper, terrified to set the word free.

Her brow tightens, her stance shifting as she searches my eyes. "What? What do you mean from yourself?"

A tear falls, the heated streak carving its path down my cheek. I breathe in the hot air thick around us. I've let too much be hidden, I've let it consume my life, trapping myself. I'm done hiding. "I've been making myself sick," I admit, holding my breath.

The blood drains from my mom's face, her mouth popped open, tears already overflowing with those five short words I've shared out loud. "No," she finally responds, shaking her head in adamant disbelief. "You've been counting calories, watching your diet, maintaining a certain weight."

Two more tears escape as I shake my head. "No. That's how it started. That's what I let you believe. But the truth is, it wasn't enough."

There's a weight that leaves my shoulders, but I'm not completely free. The pain in my mom's face is evidence of that. "Why, Rosalie?"

"Because I hate myself, Mom," I breathe out, choking between sobs. My chin shakes, my hands twisted together as the air constricts tight in my throat.

She steps forward, her arms wrapped tightly around me, no gap between us as she squeezes me to her chest. "No, Rosalie," she cries with me. "Sweetheart, no."

I cling to her, my arms tight around her as if she might slip away. "I've hated myself for a long time, Mom."

She doesn't let go, her cry buried into my hair as she holds me tighter. "I'm so sorry, Rosie. I'm sorry I didn't see. I should have–"

"Mom," I stop her, pushing back to see her swollen eyes. "Don't blame yourself. Please. I didn't want you to know."

"But I'm your mother. I should have known. I left you alone in all of this."

"I wasn't alone," I say, swallowing back the tears.

She watches me, my words catching on as she nods. "Nolan knows, doesn't he?"

I nod. "He heard me one night. He put the pieces together."

"And that's why he makes you feel safe? Because he knows?"

"It's not just that he knows," I pause, taking a deep breath to center myself. "It's that he sees pieces of me that I'm too scared to look at. He makes me want to find the beauty...that there's beauty worth finding."

She cups her hand to my face, sliding away the tears as she holds me with her. "I'm glad he did that for you, Rosie. I truly am so grateful. But it's going to take more than a boy to heal those pieces of you."

"I know," I agree. "I started seeing a therapist a town over. It was actually Nolan's idea."

Her eyes widen. "You're seeing a therapist?"

I nod. "Every week. I haven't made myself sick since Nolan found out. And I'm not saying he's the sole reason for that. It's been hard. Really hard sometimes. I've had days, moments, where I almost give in. But I don't want to be that person anymore, Mom," I cry, the tears blurring my vision as my mom wraps me back into her arms.

"I know," she says against my hair. "I'm here now, sweetheart. We're going to fight this together, okay? You hear me?"

I nod against her. "Yeah. I'm sorry, Mom."

She pulls back, placing both her hands on my face. "No. You don't apologize for this, okay? You are beautiful, strong, and so courageous," she cries, her voice wavering between each and every word. "So, don't you apologize. For any of it."

"But I lied. I let you down."

"No," she says, the tears falling down her face in continuous waves. She pushes through them, not letting the pain blur her words. "You did not let me down. Not one bit. I love you."

"I love you, too." She pulls me back into a hug. "What about Nolan, Mom?" I ask, terrified to hear the answer.

She takes a deep breath, her arms still tight around me. "We'll talk about you and Nolan later."

"Mom..."

"I need to talk to Darren," she says. "He deserves to know what's been going on."

I nod, knowing that's the logical next step. "And after you talk to him..."

"Right now," she stops me again, "my focus is you. Right where it should have been this whole time."

I don't know what comes next, I don't know what any of that means, but I know that I feel warmth within my mom's arms. And I feel free. Free of the lies, of the secrets. And for right now, I'm going to hold onto that.