Delicate Hearts | Completed

30 || Afraid To Cry

VOTE. COMMENT. THIS IS NOT A REQUEST. IT'S AN ORDER. but also, free will is exercised here so u don't HAVE to. <3 but still do. because i love attention. 
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He was crouched down in the middle of his mess, hiding his face in his hands. His back rose and fell rapidly. He didn't notice me until I knocked on the door. "Harley?" As if he's in some sort of horror movie, he lifts his head slowly. I notice smears of blood all over his face, and I rush to his side instinctively. "Harley, what the fuck?!"

I look around his room. His mattress is flipped and cut through. His pillows are torn apart. His mirror is broken. His closet is a fucking mess. His lamp is broken. He has turned out his drawers. Everything is broken apart, and his hands are bleeding. I can't help but assume the worst. Did someone attack him? Or did he do this to himself? Was it a robber? He is rich, after all. I'm sure all this has cost him tens of thousands of dollars.

"I broke the mirror," He admits. He scans his hands, front and back. There's a deep gash on his knuckle. "Punched it."

"Why..." My voice is barely a whisper. I was scared. I can't deny it. I'm unsure if I'm scared of him or the reason behind his actions. "Harley, why the fuck did you do this to yourself?"

"You really shouldn't be here. The more time you spend with me, the more I put you in danger," He sounds amused. Or in some sort of twisted hysteria. Because who can find this situation funny? "I guess the broken mirror's going to bring me some bad luck," He smiles. It's a scary smile. His smiles never reach his eyes, but they usually seem fake. This one had a sense of reality to it. An insane sort of smile that made me want to run away. But I stood my ground.

"I'm not going to leave you until you tell me what's going on." I cup his face with my hand and force him to look at me. His gray eyes intimidate me. They hold a million stories behind them, and I'm not sure I want to hear them. "What's wrong, Harley?"

"You shouldn't concern yourself with my fucked up life, Madison." He doesn't break eye contact, and I almost step back. Almost.

"I want to. I'm not leaving you here like this. Just tell me what's going on. Okay?" I soften my voice at the last word. Maybe he needs a little softness. A little reassurance. There's a pause that seems to drag on forever before he moves and hands me a few things. I look at the black things he placed into my hand.

My eyes widen in shock, and I look around the room once again in a panic. "Cameras," I breathe. "Has someone been spying on you?"

He nods, taking a deep, shaky breath. "Clara."

"Clara? Who's Clara?"

"She used to be my parents' business partner. They were pretty close. My moms and her. She would come over for dinners ever since I can remember. She would get me a gift every time she came over, and I started to think she was a nice person. There were times she would take me out shopping too."

I sit there, frozen. I knew where this story was going. It's where stories like his always go. To a place so twisted and cruel, to a point beyond return. Like my story.

"She was a nice person. She was a family friend. I trusted her. I kept trusting her even when she began taking me over to her house. When she started 'teaching' me things. My parents had no idea. Even when I started spending more and more time at her place in middle and high school, they had no idea when I started doing drugs. They had no idea what Clara was doing with me." He takes a deep breath.

"To put it simply. She groomed me."

My heart constricted. I can't believe I thought it was a good idea to use him as I did. "Did your parents find out?"