The Me You Can't See (H.S)

27*

A/N:

Hey everyone,

This will be the only warning regarding sexual content through this book. At the beginning of  a chapter, if you see * just know that there will be sexual content throughout the chapter. This is my first book, especially one writing smut in it so please be kind and I promise I will get better at it.

Sorry mom.

Love you all

-O

TW: Abuse/ body image/ Sexual Content

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Haven's POV:

As soon as the words were out I wish I never thought them let alone said them aloud. I freeze in Harry's arm and I can feel him tense around me as his fingers still in my hair. That's it, I've gone and fucked up what little progress Harry and I have made.

"Sorry, I don't know why I said that." I close my eyes, taking a deep breath with my head still leaning against his chest. I refuse to meet his face and watch while he comes up with an excuse on why he has to leave. Someone fell down the stairs, his aunt had a heart attack, his turtle died. . .I don't know, but I don't want to watch him while he decides.

His fingers detach from my hair and I immediately miss them. Expecting him to push me away and leave I sit up away from him with my eyes still cast on the cushion of my couch.

Instead of standing up, he grasps the tip of my chin gently lifting it up until I have no other choice but to look at him. "Well is it the truth?" he surprises me by asking. Watching him I can tell he's mad, his jaw clenches and he takes deep breaths of his own.

He looks me in the eyes whilst asking, trying to decipher whether my answer is the truth or not and right now I know I can't lie. Words fail me and I cower under his stare, so in response, I simply nod.

I can see his eyes soften and he licks his lips before continuing, "Then you have nothing to apologize for." he tells me and I slouch in my spot on the couch. "Sorry." I mumble but I immediately regret it as soon as they leave my mouth. He gives me a stern look and I smile meekly.

As if he's putting the pieces together inside that beautiful head of his, Harry's eyes drift to my stomach, "Is that how you got those marks on your stomach?" he gestures to the cloth skin that my arms suddenly cover.

"I don't want to talk about them." I become self-conscious and anxious knowing that he's seen more than I've let him let alone wanted. Untangling myself from the web we've found ourselves in whilst seated on the couch I stand up, remembering the drink I forgot to pour myself.

"Why? You don't seem to like to talk about anything really." Walking into the kitchen I scoff at his comment. Why else Harry? Why don't you take a wild fucking guess as to why I don't like talking about the scars on my skin.

Pouring the half-filled glass with scotch, I top it off while answering. "No, that's not how I got those. . .marks." With my back to him, I take a sip of the liquor and feel the burn as it slides down my throat.

"Marks? Bullshit Sunny, those aren't marks, those are fucking scars." he fights back and I take another sip. I know what they fucking are Harry, I just don't want to admit it. I refuse to say that word, it sounds too permanent and I've spent way too long convincing myself they're not.

I turn around, leaning against the counter with my glass in hand and stare back and Harry who sits on the edge of the couch bent forwards with his arms resting on his knees.