Baby Honey - H.S.

15

Rosie

There was a massive weight lifted off my shoulders when I told Harry about everything. I'm surprised he didn't hate me once he learnt the truth but he didn't. He was heartbroken, crying with me and holding me closer than ever that night.

It was a good idea for us to walk back to the tour bus after the concert because I truly needed fresh air. When I stepped out of the venue I felt better in many ways but that little voice was still in the back of my mind.

Adam.

I'm pretty sure it was him I heard. The voice was the same; the tone of it, the ringing of it. It made my skin crawl.

I didn't see him, I didn't want to turn around and prove to him that it was in fact me, the girl he beat half to death and abused for two years, both verbally and physically.

I know I should've turned him in as soon as he started hitting me but who are we kidding? In this world, women's voices are still not heard how they are supposed to be heard. I had no chance to win a case against him. His father has enough money to buy his son out of any trouble.

At least my family never knew. I never told them because they would've forbidden me from being with him and that only would've resulted in more fights.

All they know is that after the accident I left. Nothing more.

I glance over to the white roses Harry bought on the day of the Liverpool concert. How ironic it is that he picked white roses out of all flowers without knowing the story behind my name.

I walk to the vase, take the bouquet out of the water and grab the pair of scissors laying on the table. Once in my hand, I begin cutting a bit off the ends just to keep them fresh and alive for longer.

It's a trick my nonna taught me whenever I picked her flowers from random gardens.

"Maybe next time I should get you a jar of honey. Wanna stay true to the name." Harry speaks up from behind me, making me turn my head to look at him.

He's in his boxers only, standing next to the fridge.

"Actually, I hate honey," I admit, suppressing my smile.

"You're kidding."

"Nope. I drink it in teas but I hate the taste of it. I'm also very scared of bees just so you know."

I remember the time when I was a child and I found the queen bee on the playground somehow. All of the bees soon came flying around me and I was a screaming, crying mess. None of them bit me luckily, even though I was panicking but that memory haunts me to this day.

"That's a shame. You're my baby honey anyway." He shrugs, pursing his lips, pushing off the wall and walking up to me.

"Why that name? I never understood." I ask as he takes the scissors from my hand and places them on the table. Once my hands are free, he takes them in his, kisses my knuckles and holds them against his chest.

"You really wanna know?" He tempts, eyebrows pinching together just barely as he looks at my wrist. The H bracelet is a prominent accessory of mine. I haven't taken it off since he put it on my wrist that night in the McDonald's parking lot.

"Mhm."

"You taste sweet like honey. And unlike you, I love honey. Can't get enough of you." His pupils dilate as he stares at the bracelet on my wrist a little longer. When he moves his eyes to look into mine, he pushes his tongue out to wet his bottom lip.

I'm not sure what came over me but I stood on my tiptoes to reach him and smashed my lips against his in a haste. The familiar mint taste welcomes me as he breathes me in, making my head spin just enough to feel like I'm in the clouds.