Lucky Punishment (A One Direction FanFiction)

Days turn to Weeks

The night sings. Its the haunting symphony of creaks, whispers, and sighs. In the dark I hear the stairs creak with footsteps of people coming to get me. In the dark I see black, unforgiving eyes peeking in from the window. Mysterious noises invaded my senses from the kitchen. The front doors knob turns slowly a million times but never opens. The portraits move out of the corner of my eye. On this living room couch I am alone and defenseless with no one, no Harry, to protect me.

I have always hated night time. Under the cloak of darkness we are expected to sleep but how am I to do this when the door inhales and exhales, moving back and forth on its own accord? Maybe its the task of sleeping alone that scares me? The task of facing night time alone?

Whatever it is, I have grown a strong disliking for Harry's mum's rule of not being allowed to sleep in Harry's bed; the rule that forces me to sleep alone on the living room couch with nothing but a flimsy blanket to protect myself. Every hour spent on that couch is an hour spent forcing myself to not run in fear into Harry's arms. Three days pass. Three days of waking up alone in the morning. Three days of being scorned by Gemma, Anne, and Robin. Three days of nausea and vomiting from the cold I contracted from not wearing a coat in England's depressed weather. Three days spent by Harry's side, the only bright side to my days. Three days of cowering inside my covers when the silence of the nights gets too deafening. On the fourth day Harry takes pity on me. Its about four o' clock in the morning when Harry trudges down the steps and finds me cringing into the covers because I hadn't known that his heavy footsteps had been caused by him instead of my killer.

Then it becomes a routine. When Harry's family is asleep, he sneaks downstairs and holds me until I sleep also. The only downside to this routine is the heartbreaking disappointment I feel when I wake up and Harry's smiling face is no longer there beside me.

On the seventh day, which was supposed to be the last day in Cheshire, I find myself in good spirits. Harry takes me to a local fair and presents me with gifts and enough candy floss to rot my teeth. Even the glares I face from Anne when we go back home can't sadden me because that night Harry and I are supposed to be leaving. But instead of a train ride to London, I get a call from my father. It turns out that Niall's aunt got into a minor car accident. She wasn't injured but Niall wants to be there for her. I mourn this accident as if a death had happened because Niall's request means one more week with Harry's family.

On the eighth day Andy comes over which was unexpected because Gemma was at work. Andy hovers in a way that makes me uncomfortable. The questionable touches on my thigh that last a few seconds too long make my skin crawl. Andy has this way of looking at me that makes me feel like his next victim.

"Okay you need to stop right now," I say suddenly on the eighth day when Andy leans in to whisper something in my ear. I wouldn't have minded if the whispering hadn't been paired with innuendos and his hand on my leg.

Everyone's- which included Harry, Andy, and I- attention averted from the movie and onto Andy.

"I'm not even doing anything!" Andy scoffs, leaning away from me and into the couch. His eyes shine haughtily.

"What did he do?" Harry growled, pulling me further into his side and glowering at the arrogant boy.

I wanted to tell Harry about the touches and whispers but something stopped me. I had never been one to go to someone else with my problems. Usually I either ignored the problem until it went away or worked the problem out myself. Harry is my boyfriend who is supposed to protect me but I'm no Cinderella.

"I'm just overreacting baby," I hushed Harry, trailing my hand comfortingly down his arm.

On the ninth day I am haunted by Louis, or his words rather. Curiosity fuels my craving for intimacy with Harry and I try out Louis' advice to seduce him. My plan involves none other than an icicle which, for obvious reasons, is the traditional way to go when trying to seduce a man.