On the Otherside of Town

No one I can Trust.

Chapter Two:

Aurora's POV

“You can do this, Aurora.” Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that. What the hell am I going to do now? It’s not like there’s anyone I can turn to. Everyone I’ve ever trusted has failed me. Add Micah to that lovely list.

If only I’d known then what I know now…

“Um, Micah, can we talk?”

He glances back, barely stopping. “Aurora…sure. Maybe later, after school. Under the bleachers, after football practice. Gotta go—bye!”

It’s been like this for weeks. Him blowing me off, acting like he’s some caring, sensitive guy, all smooth and “innocent.” But the truth? He’s just another jerk.

“Um…okay, bye.” My voice fades as he’s already halfway down the hall, gone before I can even get a real sentence out.

I’m on my own. Again. What am I going to do?

I can’t think about that right now. There’s school, my job, and just trying to survive the day. And keeping my dad out of my room—God, I can’t even imagine telling him. I know exactly what he’d say, all the names he’d throw at me.

“You’ve been spreading your legs around town, you little slut.” Yeah, I can practically hear him, every word dripping with the same venom I’ve known my whole life.

I’ll never forget the day my mom left. She ran off with the neighbor, leaving me behind with Frank. Honestly, I don’t blame her for wanting to escape. Frank was cruel, controlling, and his anger was like a storm we could never outrun. I understand why she left to save herself from him. But what I can’t forgive is that she left me behind, left me to face him alone.

Looking back, I see the signs that maybe she wasn’t prepared to be a mother. She’d be lost in her own world most days, drinking to numb herself, barely noticing I was there. Some nights, I’d be left to take care of myself, without a second thought from her. There were times I wished she’d see me, protect me, or just hold me like mothers were supposed to, but she never did. Instead, she saw me as part of the problem, as if I was the one coming between her and Frank.

Once, before she left, she looked at me and accused me of “taking him away from her,” as if I had any say in what he did. It was like she needed someone to blame, and I was the easiest target. Her words stung, and the betrayal of them still lingers. I never asked for any of it, never wanted to be in the middle of their broken relationship. I just wanted to feel safe and loved, like any kid would.

I was an inconvenience. And somehow, it was my fault, all of it.

Every time he’d come to my room, every word he’d whisper, it’s all burned into me. His sick, twisted version of “love.”

And she blames me for Frank slipping into my bed at night. “She says that I ruined my marriage and that I stole his love…like I had a choice in the matter. I didn’t say Frank, Please show me how much you love me and f**k the s**t out of me until I couldn’t walk.

And he was obsessive, to the point that some days I couldn’t go to school, because I was at home in his bed being f**k senseless by my own father.

“f**k, Aurora…You’re so f*****g tight…I can’t get enough of your tight little p***y….fuck you feel so f*****g good.”

“Tell Daddy, how much you love him!”

“Do you see how much daddy loves daddy little girl?” he would always say these things to me when he bedded me and as he pulled out he would grunt in my ears, kiss me deeply, and say…good girl, that’s my good little girl.”

All I'd do was turn my head and pretend... pretend that I was anywhere but here—that I don’t have a dad twisted enough to show me how much he loves me or a mom who was supposed to keep me safe but didn’t even try. That I didn’t fall for Micah’s stupid charm, didn’t end up alone and abandoned after he got what he wanted. And that I’m not lying here under daddy, worried about carrying his baby, with nowhere to go and no one to turn to.

It’s easier to slip away in my mind, to pretend this mess isn’t real. But it’s always there, just waiting to pull me back, reminding me that no matter how hard I try, I can’t escape what my life has become. I have no future . Everything in my life right now feels like it’s closing in faster than I can breathe.

I don’t know why I keep letting myself hope, like someone’s actually gonna come along and give a damn.

I’ve learned my lesson enough times by now. Adults? They’re all the same. Every single one of them has let me down, one way or another. Teachers, supposed mentors, even the ones who pretend to care. They don’t. The second they look away, it’s back to the same old story. I’m on my own.

I guess I figured that out early, like when I’d watch other kids with their picture-perfect families, while mine just… didn’t work. Never did. And the guys? They’re even worse. They act all sweet, throw you a look, make you feel like you’re the only one in the world they’re thinking about. But that’s all it is—an act. Every time, it’s the same. Once they get what they want, they’re gone, and you’re left feeling like an i***t for falling for it.

There’s no princess to save, no white horse, no shining armor waiting to swoop in and pull me out of this hell. Just me, standing alone, with all the shiny little traps this life has set, waiting to tear me apart. And make no mistake, I am broken. Every time “my dad shows me how much he loves me,” I shatter a little more. Every time someone else takes a piece of me and leaves, it’s like I’m crumbling from the inside out.

There’s no light at the end of the tunnel for someone like me. There’s just me, standing here in the dark, with nothing but the shadows creeping closer, trying to swallow me whole.

I learned fast not to trust anyone, especially not some guy who thinks he’s God’s gift just because he has a nice smile and says all the right things. It’s like they can smell it on me, my weakness or whatever it is that makes me want to believe them. And just when I start to think maybe, maybe someone could actually care about me, they rip the rug out from under me.

But it’s not like I haven’t tried. I’ve spent years trying to plan some way out of this place. This town? It’s like a cage, trapping me with all these people who think they know me, but they have no idea. The girl from the trailer park, from the wrong side of town, poor, quiet, keeping my head down just trying to survive until I can make my escape. I want out. Out of this place, out of this life, out of every expectation they’ve put on me since the day I was born.

I dream about it all the time—about taking whatever little money I’ve scraped together, buying a bus ticket, and never looking back. Paris, New York, anywhere that isn’t here. I could disappear, change my name, start over. Somewhere they don’t know who I am, where I can actually breathe and be something more than just the girl everyone sees as nothing.

But it feels impossible most days. Sometimes I think I’m fooling myself. Everyone I know who tried to leave ended up right back here, and that’s the scariest part. The way this town just pulls you back, keeping you small, reminding you that you’re nothing more than what you were born into. And yet… I can’t stop wanting it. Wanting to be something, someone, even if I have to claw my way out inch by inch.

Because if I stay here, if I let them win, then what am I left with? Just a lifetime of the same dead-end jobs, the same faces, the same lies. No. I’d rather risk everything than end up like everyone else around here, settling for scraps, like it’s all we deserve.