Psychotic

PART 3/Harry's POV

     I sober up realising what is going on. Another Slut. She desperately slides into the car. I guess I do have time for a good shag for know. A few minutes later I discover that she isn't doing anything, in fact she is actually being shy and embarrassed.

"Wouldn't you be sucking my dick by now?" I question

"What the hell do you think I am? A HOOKER?!" she responds with anger in her voice

"Well yes, actually."

"The only reason, why I am coming is because you mouth raped me! " she replies back disgusted.

"It's not called rape, if you like it. Besides why would you come with me willingly anyway if I 'mouth raped' you?"   I smirk

"Whatever, just take me back to my dorm" she demands.

"Fine" I reply

CASSIE'S POV-

    Who the hell does he think he is barging in my dorm and acting like I was going to sleep with him? "What the hell do you think you are doing?"

     "Guiding you in" he proudly shoots back at me.  Why does he have to be so stubborn?

     "Why would I need guiding back to my own dorm?"

    "There are alot of creeps out there sweetheart."

     "The only creep I have met so far is you."

      "Oh really?" He smirks while he snakes his palm across my back and presses it firmly on my behind. The one thing I learned from flims is self defense. I raise my hand up to his face and I plant it hard, creating a red handprint.

"Your gonna wish you didn't do that sweetheart" he snarls, pushing me back to my wall.

I push him with all my strength only making him budge a small amount.

"YOU FUCKING BITCH!" He shouts while slapping me across the face.

I fall to the ground  in shock while the man I once thought was perfect starts kicking me in the stomach. I moan and groan in pain when he stops. I cough slightly while he leaves and slams the door. Blackness surrounds my eyes and I soon become asleep. An hour passes and I am greeted with a note that says " I know were you live, your contacts are in my phone,  and I will kill you without any hesitation if you call the cops. We are going on a date, pick you up at 8.  xx H.

     I struggle to walk to my bathroom and look at my bruised face. Does that fuck really think I am going with him? Hell I am surprised I didn't call the police but I soon imagine the painful slow death in my mind. I put my face in my hands and just sob. My phone conveinitaly buzzes at 7:30.

     I grab a shit load of concealer, eye-shadow, eyeliner, and a bunch of other shit. I quickly wash my body, avoiding the harsh black and blue marks. Shaving my legs, I see bruises that look a lot more like hickeys all over my vulnerable and exposed body. How long was I out? All the possible thoughts race through my mentally damaged mind. I pat and smear concealer over my bruised body including my face.  I take my brush and glide it up and down over my body.

      There is one bruise or hickey that shows through the concealer. I decide to leave it alone and continue on my face. I look at my face in the mirror and leave my plain, straight hair alone. I wanted to dress as modest as possible because I didn't want him thinking anything.  I walk out with a towel wrapped around me tight.

      Slowly, I walk over to Morgan's closet and search for a black dress that ended higher than I would like. Minutes later, a boom comes from the door and I know exactly who it is. I slip it on quick, and then open the door revealing a tall handsome boy with a lip ring and a sleeve of tattoos.