Olivia's POV

I stop.

What did he say?

I turn slowly to Freddie, searching his face for any sign of guilt, tears brimming in my eyes. But I’m met with a careless expression and nothing more.

“What did you say?” I ask through gritted teeth, my fists clenched at my sides.

Freddie pulls a cigarette from his pocket, lights it, and directs his focus back to me.

“What does it matter what I said?” I walk toward him slowly, and he stands to meet me. “You’re talking an awful lot, aren’t you, Princess? What’s going o—”

I cut him off. “Tell me what you said!” I shout, my voice louder than I intended, startling both Freddie and myself.

It’s the first time I can remember having the guts to raise my voice at anyone. I snatch the cigarette from his hand and stub it out on the nearest surface. “Tell me!”

“I said: ‘Fine. Leave. That’s what everyone else seems to do, isn’t it?’”

Anger flares inside me like a flame. “How dare you? You have no idea what it’s like to be left. You don’t know the first thing about it! Wherever you got that information from, you have no right to say it. And if you think you can be that disgusting towards me, you’re more—”

“I do.”

My anger shifts to confusion. “W-what?”

“I know what it’s like to be left,” he says, his voice low. A look of sadness, anxiety, and fear crosses his face. “I know more than most.”

Freddie sits down, burying his head in his hands. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. Tentatively, I walk over and pull my chair closer to his.

Even with me so near, he doesn’t look up. I wait for him to elaborate, and when he doesn’t, I speak.

“Why do you know what it’s like?” I ask cautiously.

“Why should I tell you?” he replies bitterly, not meeting my eyes. “So you can use it against me the next time I say something you don’t like? There’s no one I can even remotely trust to tell.”

I sigh, realizing my hands are still clenched from before. “I’ve said the same thing all my life. But I think if we’re going to work together on this project, we need to at least try to get along even if it means getting everything out in the open. Don’t you think—”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Olivia. Back the hell off.”

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. Art is my passion, the one thing that makes me want to get up in the morning. I know what I need to do. The past is the past. Art is my future.

For years, I’ve been held back by fear, by memories I couldn’t shake. I’ve hidden parts of myself from others, thinking it would protect me. But I don’t want to be that person anymore. I want to be free to express myself.

With another deep breath, I start.

“I was five when it happened. It’s probably my earliest memory,” I begin, my voice shaking. I hope Freddie is listening.

“I didn’t have the best childhood, but I survived. My mum… she was in informal work. I’m sure you can figure out what kind. My dad was unemployed.”

“By unemployed, I mean lazy. He didn’t see the point in working to earn money when the council could just give it to him. I was always had to be self-reliant because neither of them did anything remotely domestic. If I didn’t get my own food, I probably wouldn’t have eaten at all.”

“That’s just how it was.”

I look up to see Freddie staring at me, unmoving. My hands are trembling, but I continue.

“I didn’t leave the house very often. Didn’t go to nursery or school. The only time I ever went out was when my grandma took me places, those were the happiest days of my childhood. She had no idea her daughter and son-in-law weren’t taking care of me. I was always dressed in my best clothes when she came around. My parents covered it up well.”

“All the other days, I wore the same cheap top and leggings because any spare income was plowed into my parents’ drug-fueled lifestyle. That was normal to me. I was a hindrance, an unwanted presence they had to keep for financial benefits.”

I pause, swallowing hard.

“Then, one morning, I woke up and went downstairs, like always, to make my breakfast. I was five. When I got to the living room, all the furniture was gone except for one small armchair and a clock. They’d taken everything else.”

“That was the day they left me. A neighbor saw them leave abruptly early that morning and decided to check the house. They found me alone in the living room, called the police, and arranged for me to stay with my grandma. I’ve lived with her ever since.”

Without another word, I gather my things and walk out of the workroom. The moment I’m out of sight, I dissolve into shoulder-shaking sobs.

I don’t call Tom. Instead, I head straight to my grandma’s house, hoping I did the right thing by bringing up those old memories.

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Author’s Note: I hope you’re enjoying the story so far. I thought it was time to share Olivia’s backstory, as it will set the foundation for the next few chapters. If you liked this, please remember to vote, comment, and follow. I’d love to hear your thoughts!