On his last night in Hawaii, Harry Styles sets his sights on a fiery pro-surfer, who pushes him outside his comfort zone and decides to take him on a little adventure he'll never forget. One that lived past its expiration date. He could've never gue...
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TRIGGER WARNING: DESCRIPTION OF ABUSE
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"You have me."
"I don't deserve you." Sunny's voice cracks, sniffling as she picks at her bloody nail beds relentlessly.
I think she's trying to kill me.
"No. Don't you dare think that way. What you don't deserve is being in this much pain," I argue, sending her a look that tells her not to question the lengths I'd go to protect and care for her, and that whatever she went through is nothing short of abhorrent.
She gives me a sad nod in response to my statement before lowering her gaze to the floor.
Sighing, I slowly reach for the bottom hem of her shirt and roll it up her stomach, keeping my focus on her face. She slips her left arm out first before I pull it over her head, and then gently down the right. As soon as I let it drop to the ground, she closes her eyes and tears begin streaming down her flushed cheeks, taking some of her makeup with them to show me a glimpse of what's hidden beneath.
My jaw clenches, and I let my eyes wander lower, first noticing the prominent hand-shaped welt that wraps around her neck, explaining her broken, hoarse voice. Moving to her shoulder, I see the swelling from her dislocation, but it's the massive purple bruise I spot from the corner of my eye that brings my attention to her ribs on the same side.
And there's a flatline where my heartbeat is supposed to be.
An involuntary gasp escapes my throat at the sight, and my boiling rage tightens around my neck like a noose. "Sunny-"
She shakes her head, pinching her eyes shut tighter than before, stopping my impending questions.
Fuck!
Her ribs are definitely broken without a shadow of a doubt. The angry contusion is a mirage of deep purples, blues, and black, stretching almost the entire length of her mid-torso, slightly wrapping around to the front of her stomach and her back from what I see in the mirror behind her. It looks so sore, and I don't know how she isn't in the hospital right now. She's already having a hard enough time talking and breathing properly—my point proven as I watch her take quick shallow breaths. I'll do whatever it takes to bribe her into going to the emergency room later.
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