Desolate - h.s. ✓

° sixty-eight °

     I woke up around five in a panic, pushing at the body beside me. They were holding onto me, and everything in me was terrified that it was Des, and he was trying to hurt me again. He was going to push himself onto me, and I was going to have no way to fight back.

"Get off of me, get off, get off!" I yelled, shoving at the person. "Get off of me!"

"Jesus Christ, it's me," Harry whispered, letting go of me entirely. He reached over, turning on the light, and frowning down at me. "It's just me."

"I'm sorry, I thought —"

"No worries," he nodded, letting me curl back up beside him. "I've got you, okay? He's not touching you ever again."

Nodding slowly, I shut my eyes, Harry kissing my forehead. He played with my hair, a knock on his door sounding. Harry adjusted the covers before telling the person to come in, Anne peeking her head in the door.

"Is everything okay?"

"She just woke up worried. She's okay."

"Alright, sweetie," Anne said. "I'm going to run out and get breakfast, do you two want anything?"

"Donuts."

Harry laughed. "Really? Again? You've had donuts so many times this week."

"Donuts."

He smiled when I opened my eyes. "Nicole said she wants donuts. "Anywhere certain?"

"Just donuts," I told her.

Anne said she would have to get ready, but that she was more than happy to get donuts for me. Once the door was shut, I pushed Harry onto his back, crawling over him. However, my stomach hurt more than I had realized, a soft mutter leaving my lips.

"Why don't you let me look?" he asked. "You've got a bruise on your face, and it's not bad, but it's a bruise. Let me see what else he did."

"Shower."

"Let me call your dad first, okay?"

"Yeah."

He reached over after I got off of him, grabbing his phone. I watched as he found my father, the contact name saying Daddy Coleman. Rolling my eyes, he tapped the screen, pressing the phone to his ear.

"Hey ... good morning to you, too .... she's good, yeah, she's right here ... it's just, well, my dad is out of jail, and Nicole went on a run last night, and she called me crying, and — Mr. Coleman, it isn't my fault, I didn't — no, you listen to me, I would never have let him lay a hand on her if I was there .... what the fuck? No, don't come over here, she wants me — why the fuck are you yelling at me like it's my fucking fault for — stop. Stop cutting me off, I know you're angry because it's your daughter, but I'm just as pissed. Just quite fighting me, okay? Christ, I just wanted to know if you could write a restraining order against him .... Mr. Coleman, I don't care, we just were going to shower for the day ... yeah ... yeah, I know you were angry ... it's fine, I'm sorry also ... sure, eight is fine, bye."

Harry hung up the phone, sighing softly against me. I watched as he rubbed his face, groaning before shifting to get out of bed quickly. However, my hand grabbed him instinctively, green eyes meeting mine. I shook my head, my boyfriend sighing softly.

"I just need to put on boxers. I'll be, what? A little more than five feet away."

"But Harry, what if —?"

"He won't be in here, I promise."

I swallowed hard, letting go of his hand. He quickly tugged a pair of boxers up his legs before grabbing a T-shirt for me. I felt overly safe when he picked me up, my boyfriend carrying me to the bathroom with him. We were both quiet as he started the shower, Harry peeing as I grabbed my toothbrush and brushed my teeth. My face was bruised, and I cringed at the memory of Des slamming my face into the table, hurrying to finish brushing my teeth. Once I was finished, I undressed, Harry putting toothpaste on his toothbrush. He brushed his teeth, my arms wrapping around his waist from behind.