Lights Out

A Hotel In France

Warning: Mentions of physical abuse.

Wednesday 4th August.
I stumbled into the hotel room, trying to be as quiet as possible and not giggle hysterically even though everything was so funny. It was dark in the room, and in my clumsiness I kicked the shoe cabinet thingy, I couldn't remember what it was called, and it made a loud thump, which was hilarious. The breath I was holding in my cheeks deflated and I burst out laughing, trying to muffle the sounds by covering my mouth with both of my hands. That only served to cause more problems as I lost my balance in the heeled boots I was wearing, causing me to start to fall over and try and catch myself by grasping onto some invisible rail on the wall. It didn't work, and I landed heavily, groaning as my elbows and knees took the full force of the impact. A lamp clicked on, and I heard the bed sheets shuffle around.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm not drunk! I promise! And I didn't sleep with anyone, please don't think that I did because I never would because I'm with you I promise!"
"I know you didn't sleep with anyone."
"Please don't hurt me. I didn't mean to wake you up, I know it's really early in the morning, but I promise I wasn't with any boys, and I didn't hook up with anybody, please believe me."
"Where is this coming from, Jess?"
"I just don't want you to hurt me, Julien please believe me!"
"Hey, hey, you're safe. Look at me, you're okay. You're with Harry, Julien can't hurt you, he's not here. I'm not going to hurt you, okay? I believe that you didn't sleep with anybody. Look, come here-"
"NO!"

I was pushed hard into the side of the sink, my ribs stabbing with the blunt force of it and making my legs give out. My knees hit the tiled floor hard, making me gasp at the sudden shock. He leered down at me.
"Didn't I say that if you ever flirted with them, I'd hit you so hard you won't know what happened?"
"I didn't flirt with them, I swear!"
My face stung harshly with the slap he delivered, my head snapping to the side, carrying the momentum to take my body with it.
"Please, Julien. I didn't. You have to believe me!"
A cry left my mouth as the next slap left my ears ringing, my cheek burning and stinging violently. Before I knew it, his hand had a grasp in my hair, pulling me upwards as I winced with the pain of it, tears running down my searing face.
"I'm really getting sick of all your fucking lies, chérie."
My feet stumbled drunkenly in front of one another as he pushed me out of the bathroom, halting me abruptly to take out a belt of his from the chest of drawers.
"Now, you're going to be fucking quiet, or I'll fucking kill you. You got it?"
My voice didn't sound like my own as I blubbered out apologies and begged him to not hurt me. He pushed me onto the bed, and I turned around just in time to see him raise the belt. He brought it down hard, the impact taken by my arms that I'd lifted to protect myself. The leather cut into my naked skin, angry red welts showing up straight away. I cried out, making him lean down and grip my hair again.
"What the fuck did I say to you," he sneered, spittle landing onto my face. "I said be fucking quiet, or I'll kill you. I'll fucking kill you, okay? You bitch."

When I realised that I was back in the hotel room in France, I also realised that Harry was cradling me, rocking us both gently from side to side. He was behind me, my back pressed to his front with his arms around me and his legs to either side of mine, mirroring the way in which mine were pulled up halfway to my chest.
"It's okay, you're safe," he whispered, leaning the side of his face against my hair.
"I'm sorry." My voice was croaky, and my throat hurt as the words spilled out of my mouth.
"You don't have to be sorry for anything. It wasn't your fault. You couldn't help it."
"I put you through that. I'm sorry."
"I'd rather me be here than you do it alone. Do you want to get up?"
I nodded, feeling him lift me up with him. I was a bit unsteady on my feet; whether that was a product of the alcohol or the flashback, I didn't know.
"We need to get this makeup off you." He turned on the light in the bathroom, making the fans turn on for the air circulation system. He sat me down on the toilet seat, taking a cotton pad out of the bag and soaking it with makeup cleanser before kneeling in front of me.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes," I replied, struggling to croak my voice above a whisper. The cotton felt cold on my skin, and I guess it was nice since I felt clammy and horrible. He wiped smoothly over my eyes, gently removing the eye shadow, eyeliner, and mascara from each, before moving over the rest of my face, stopping only to dispose of the dirty cotton and replace it with a new one freshly doused in micellar water.
"You need to change out of your dress. Would you like a shower or do you just want to get straight into bed."
"I need to have a shower. I feel disgusting, like he's still on me."
"Alright." He stood back up to turn the shower on and place one of the fluffy towels on the heating rack.
"I'll leave you to it, okay?" he said, turning after to walk out of the room.
"Wait," I called out, making him stop and face me again. "Stay with me."