You are Home // H.S

21. Always

CW: Mention of Domestic Violence

***

Harry

Loss isn't an unfamiliar word for me. I've lost a lot in these last few years. Privacy, Time and Confidence were only a few things that come straight to my mind. But only once have I lost someone important to me. And right now, it feels like I am losing her, all over again.

I sit in my bed staring against the plain wall, my heart beating fast in my chest. All I can hear is her broken voice, the words she cried out constantly replaying themselves in my mind.

"P-please, h-help me."

Helpless. Broken. Scared. Her voice is leaving me feeling all of those things, as I clutch onto my phone with her still on the other line. My heart is sinking further into my chest, just at the thought of what might have caused her to call me.

I breathe in deeply, trying to get my mind to think clearly. I know that I need to get to her. Fast. I can still hear her shallow breathing on the other line, waiting for me to answer, as I press the phone between my shoulders and head, ready to get out of bed to put on some pants.

"Elle?" I exclaim, not able to get out more because I was simply out of breath, sprinting down the stairs and through the hallway, my mind only focused on one thing. Reach her as fast as possible.

"Are you at home, Elle? Are you okay? P-please, tell me you're okay, Elle," I press out in between breaths.

I needed her to be okay. I couldn't even bear the thought of her being seriously injured. But all my mind seems to do is jump from one scenario to the next, making me even more worried than I already am.

"H-home," she sobs, as I grab the keys off the counter and slip into some shoes.

He hurt her. Why else would she be calling me?

I should've done something when I had the chance. She shouldn't even be in that relationship anymore. And I'd done nothing. Too afraid of saying anything, that may scare her away.

I just got her back in my life. I didn't want to lose her already.

"P-please, hurry. I- I'm so scared, H-harry." But hearing her like this, her voice merely a shadow of her broken self, already had me feeling like I lost her, again.

"I'm on my way now. Stay where you are, love. Do you understand?"

I could hear an almost non-audible noise as she tried to answer me, indicating that she understood what I asked of her.

"I'll be there soon, Elle," I state as I jump into my car and start the engine.

As much as it pains me to hang up on her, I need to get there as fast as possible. But it didn't matter that she wasn't on the phone anymore. The horrible thoughts about what might have happened wouldn't leave my mind as I enter the street, immediately speeding up, trying to get there as quickly as I could.

The severity of the situation dawns on me as I speed down the street, the streetlights flying by, as I get to 100. I try to regulate my breath in order to not start sobbing. But I can't hold it in.

I am scared for her. I am scared for myself because I care so much about her.

It probably only took me about 15 minutes to get down here, knowing how fast I was driving. But as I pull up in the parking lot, it feels like two hours passed, between getting her call and arriving at her home. I reach down to my phone, noticing the message that popped up.