I'm Broken {Harry Styles}

Chapter 32

| Lacy's POV |

I just left my shift and am on my way back home when my phone rings. I groan and dig it out of my bag, seeing that it's Harry, I pick up.

"I'm fine just got out of work," I say before anything.

"Well hello to you, too," he mumbled. I let out a small chuckle.

"But seriously, I'm fine. I haven't even seen him since I've been home," I reassure. I pass by a group of drunk men lounging on the side of a building. I hear a wolf whistle and some inappropriate cat calls. I just roll my eyes and keep walking.

"What was that?" Harry interrogates further.

"I just passed a group of drunks, it's no big deal."

"Lacey, this is a big deal to me. It might just be your 'average day' but I'm not used to having to protect someone. Not in a long time..." he trailed off. He seemed to get lost in his head for a moment there.

"Harry, that's what your problem is! You think you have to protect me. I'm fine, as I've been telling you, and I don't need you to watch over me," I fiercely speak. He's not getting it through his head that I don't need him watching over me.

"I want to protect you. I would feel responsible if anything were to ever happen to you."

"This isn't about you! You're making it as though I can't protect myself. You feel the need to protect me. It's your responsibility. You are just trying to fill something inside yourself and you're using me to do it!" I angrily hang up the phone and let out a huge sigh. Why do we always argue?

I feel a cold hand on my shoulder and get spun around. I'm met with the bloodshot eyes of one of the men that I passed.

I rolled my eyes and let out a firm "No." I tried turning around but his grip got tighter.

"Hey, pretty lady, you don't get to call the shots around here," he drunkenly slurred. "So how 'bout we go o-" I knew him in the crotch, taking him by surprise. He lets go of me to hold his groin. I take this opportunity to grab a can of pepper spray out of my purse and shoot it into his eyes. His hands then leave his groin to cover his eyes. He groans out in pain while I put my pepper spray away.

"That'll show you to try and take advantage of someone," I scoff and turn around to keep walking.

As I get close to my house, I see that there are lights on and the telly is playing. My chest tightens and fear courses through my body. A man on the street trying to abduct my doesn't phase me only because anything is better than this. Anything.

I can't run, I won't. I'm not going to live my life in constant fear that he will find me, that he will take me back. It may not seem like it, but by doing this I am in control. I know what is going to happen, I know how to prepare-not that there is any way to prepare for this kind of torture.

I am now standing outside the front door. I take a deep breath, attempting to calm my nerves. Maybe he's asleep I think. I slowly turn the door handle, not wanting to risk waking him is he is, in fact, sleeping. I press the door in gently, the smell of tobacco invading my senses. I brace myself for the yelling as I step into the threshold. The house is a complete mess. There are shattered bottles on the floor, random liquids dried on surfaces, fallen furniture, and the smell-no words can describe the repulsive odor.

I slowly turn to look to the lounge. On the couch sits Dylan, smoking a cigarette and nursing a beer. He's sitting there, calmly staring at me. I gulp at the look in his eyes; pure evil. He smirks and leisurely gets up from the couch. I am still standing in the doorway, not wanting to make any advances to set him off. He walks slowly towards me until he's only a foot away. He's clearly not drunk by his steady movements.