Darling (Harry Styles)

chap 13

ANNABELLE WILCOX
Louis' House - The Floristry

   I stared up at my ceiling in silence, I could faintly hear the boys yelling downstairs and I know it was because Harry told them his plan to tell me everything. We had decided last night that it was far too much on me to tell me then, so he planned to tell me in two days time. He wanted to prepare me.

But, I also knew that after this yelling calmed down, Harry would tell them my story as quickly as he could. I didn't dive into my parents death or my brothers presumed death as much as I could've because most of it is unclear to me. Louis knows most of that and if he feels its needed, he can tell them if he wants to.

The only thing that I knew right now was that Beatrice had drugged me.

Why she drugged me? Unclear.

How did she drug me? Must've been my beer.

Why has she been acting so suspicious? Also unclear.

Am I still allowed to talk to her? Is she going to know that I know? Because if it was my beer that caused this, I most definitely did not know prior to being told that I was drugged. It simply felt like I had fallen into a sleep that was so damn good it made me lose my memory. Of course, that wasn't a viable answer but it was good enough for me at the time.

It was a good enough answer because I could never think of Beatrice doing such a thing to me.

I don't know what I could've done to Beatrice to cause her to come after me like this. It just doesn't make any sense, honestly. There is no way that the anger she felt from me hiding away after Jacob would create this sort of thing—she wasn't a psychopath.

Interrupting my thoughts, the door to my bedroom opened and I sat up, fixing the oversized Yale shirt I wore. I offered a tight-lipped to smile to Louis as he entered, doing his best to spare me a pitiful look as he sat next to me on the bed. I fell back against the mattress again and he repeated the action himself, peaceful silence that seemed to follow me around entering the room again and sitting between us.

He cleared his throat, staring up at the ceiling. "You're right, you know."

"About what?" I questioned, offering a joke, "Or should I say what am I right about this time?"

He rolled his eyes with a small chuckle, but his mood was too dismal to offer a genuine reaction. "You told me eight months ago that I wouldn't be prepared for the story of what happened to you. Annabelle, you told me you'd hold on to all that pain on your shoulders so that I didn't have to feel it."

I sighed, shutting my eyes and nodding as best as I could, "And I still would. A part of me wishes I never even came here because now I've offered my pain to all four of you—even three people I hardly know."

Louis continued, "I know that wasn't easy for you, going through it couldn't have been easy for you. For fucks sake, I couldn't even take it. I watched you change right in front of my eyes, Annabelle. You will always have the kindest heart and soul, but you hardly let people see that side of you anymore. I'm surprised you even let Harry in like you did—thats the first person you have for the last three years."

I frowned, feeling done with the dismal topics and talking about my emotions anymore. I didn't know why I trusted Harry so easily, I just did. Theres no explanations for anything anymore, but maybe thats just because I hardly believe the validity of anything I feel.

Believing the validity of my emotions is something that faded so easily with time. As people told me that my emotions were wrong or ill-timed, I started to believe they were too.