Misery Loves Company (H.Styles Fanfic)

Chapter 36

I am sorry but I just had to post this picture of Harry as a baby omg! He looks so damn adorable...>>>>Pic on the side

-katexx

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Chapter 36

Maths has never been my cup of tea. Equations and solving problems are something I never understood when I was in school and I definitely spent more time wondering what they’d help me with in the future than how to find the answers. My teachers used to say that I was creative and that I’d end up writing a book or something. I couldn’t draw for the saving my life and I couldn’t run ten miles like other kids did in track. My options were short and the music program declined my application in junior after I broke a flute in band, freshman year. I either had the choice between normal high school or the science program, and sciences included maths so I begged my parents to put me in the normal education. They wanted me to follow a specific program to develop talents but I couldn’t, and sadly, the school didn’t have a literature program. Now I realize that if I had learnt my multiplication table back in grade school, I wouldn’t have to count every single line on the wooden floor. I could just count a few, multiply it by the width of each wall, and I’d be all set. According to boredom, that is.

I’ve lost track of time since Harry got home. I saw the sun go down and up again from my bedroom window but the actual time is a complete mystery to me. After he broke his promise to me last night, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I was roughly pulled by the arm and dragged into my bedroom, where my left wrist has now been locked to the bedpost with a pair of handcuffs for almost a day. The sun has already lowered in the sky which leads me to believe it’s almost evening. Harry isn’t even home. After tying me to the bed, I heard the shower go off and several minutes later, the door downstairs shut loudly. There hasn’t been any other sound in the house since.

“I can’t even look at you,” Harry spat as he glanced at me from the doorframe. My arm hung from the bedpost and I was thrown on the floor like a helpless person. “You disgust me.”

My lips wouldn’t open when I tried responding, so I sat there with tears in my eyes as he closed the door. To this moment, I still don’t understand what happened. Everything happened so fast, from the moment he hit me to the second he left, and I miss him.

The idea of him not liking lasagna crossed my mind but to be honest, nobody dislikes lasagna. I have done absolutely nothing to deserve that, this time. For the past few days, everything had gone perfectly. We got along very well and he didn’t seem deranged or bothered with me over the phone while he was away. He would tell me how much he missed me; he would tell me about his day and how the recording was going. They had only done two songs, but apparently it was good to do as many in one week. He would stay quiet for a few minutes, saying that he just wanted to hear me breathe, to know I was still there. I couldn’t help but feel my eyes water, I was feeling good.

I listen to the silence in the house, the sounds of nothing deafening my ears. I could beg, I could scream, and I’ve tried pulling with all my strength at my arm but I’m stuck on the floor with my arm and hand numb from the way they’re hung. If Harry was disgusted with me the moment he saw me, perhaps it’s because I look miserable. He’s made these comments before, when they had a meeting and he wouldn’t let me eat, and I figured that maybe I had to lose weight to look good for him. And if I did look pretty, he would like me. But I still look disgusting. If he thinks I’m disgusting, why did he pick me in the first place? He could’ve taken the prettiest girl in town, it isn’t like LA is not full of pretty ladies after all.

As I look down to my funny fingers, bony and white, I hear the front door open and close, a déjà vu from the first week I was here. Keys are shaken and tossed somewhere, boots are removed and a grumble is mumbled. I try to listen to the footsteps but Harry’s socks on the hardwood aren’t easy to follow. I bite my lips together to keep myself from crying but the tears come anyway. He’s coming here.