Complicated

#9

I couldn't sleep. I spent my whole night ignoring Harry trying to talk to me, staring aimlessly at the wall on my side. My pillow was damp from last night.

It may seem like it, but I'm not mad at Harry. He can do what he wants, he's a grown man. He doesn't know about my childhood trauma, I plan keeping it that way for as long as I can. I want to protect myself from the pity, and I want to protect him from the awkwardness of the conversation.

I don't want to open up about it to just anyone. Took me a year to tell Nancy and a few months to tell the professionals. You may be thinking, why was child services not called? I said it was a one off. I never told them that I was beaten every day and night. I only told them that her friends are terrible influences. I couldn't let me and my siblings get split up. I needed them with me. Now I'm glad to be out the house. They can help themselves, they never helped me the way I helped them.

I feel a tap on the shoulder, which causes me to jump out of bed and hold my hands up in a fist. Reflex from an abusive upbringing I guess. I probably reacted like that because I didn't expect it but now I realise that I look very very crazy.

"Woah alright Muhammed Ali" Harry giggles raising his hands up, in a surrendering way. I roll my eyes at him. "What's with the attitude. Come on spill" he says.

"No" I say bluntly.

"She speaks!" He raises his arms up. I groan and walk into the bathroom to avoid him. I hate him right now. Not because he did drugs, but because he didn't recognise my boundaries. Of course he was drunk and off his head on drugs but it's not the point.

"Belle" he says leaning against the door frame, eyebrows raised. He seems sober. Which is great for me.

"Just fuck off Harry! I cant..I..I don't wanna talk to anyone right now!" My voice shakes.

"Woah Woah..don't get upset, come on please it's alright" he says approaching me slowly, holding his arms out.

As he gets closer, I step back. The further I step back, the closer I get to the wall. I didn't want to be in a situation where I felt stuck, so I stood still allowing him to do whatever he's going to do.

He wraps his arms around me, tightly, but not tight to the point I can't breathe. I reluctantly wrap my arms around him, I hate this. I'm not used to people taking my feelings into consideration. I feel his hand glide up my back to my head, he strokes my hair for a moment.

"What's wrong" he asks softly.

"I don't want to talk about it.." i whimper into his shoulder.

"That's okay. I'm sorry you feel the way you do, I hope it gets better. I'm sorry if I triggered this" he speaks in a warming tone. "The boys were asking about you" he says pulling away.

"Mhm?" I hum, tears rolling down my face.

"Yeah.." he says as he lifts his hands and holds my head in them, using his thumbs to wipe away my tears, "they were excited to meet you too, another time though, when everyone's sober from everything". It's that sentence that's making me think that he has an idea of why I was so wound up.

"I'd love to meet them" I speak slowly with no smile.

"I know you've been hurt by something..and your..scared. For whatever the reason is I want you to know your safe here, I..we won't let anything happen to you" he speaks softly, tucking my hair behind my ear and draping his finger down my cheek bones.

This causes me to sob uncontrollably once again. He instantly pulls me in, hugging me as tightly as before, stroking his hand through my ear, whispering 'it's okay, let it all out' in my ear.