Secrets | Harry Styles

Chapter 51

TW: Self harm

It's been two weeks since I shoot Maxim, it's hard to recover to be honest. I have nightmares about a man I didn't even know, it's so strange. One night Harry had to wake me up, because I was screaming like a banshee.

One week ago

I run in some kind of dark hallway, I feel like someone is chasing me, but I can't to seem to figure it out who I'm running from or why I can't stop running.

But suddenly I stop, and can't move or turn my head around. I feel steps behind me, but they still far but the steps getting closer every second.

I feel a lot of anger in those steps, I don't know why. And suddenly I feel a hand on my shoulder and someone whispering "Hello princess." Maxim said.

I woke up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding, as the haunting image of his face lingered in my mind. A week had passed since that dreadful night, yet he continued to invade my dreams, a specter of guilt and remorse.

Each night, I found myself transported to a surreal landscape, a dreamscape where shadows danced and reality blurred. And there he was, the man I had taken from the world, appearing before me like a wraith. His voice echoed in the emptiness, accusing me with words unspoken, yet painfully clear.

Sleep became my battleground, and I, a reluctant combatant in the theater of my own guilt. The lines between waking and dreaming blurred, and I questioned my sanity as the specter of the man I had killed became an ever-present companion.

As the nights passed, the boundary between dream and reality grew thinner. I feared the moment when I couldn't distinguish between the two, haunted not only by the man I had taken but by the darkness within myself that had birthed such a nightmare.

Today

Harry Styles

The moon hung low in the night sky as I watched Amelia toss and turn beside me. It had been weeks since that incident, but her nightmares persisted, a relentless force that refused to release its grip on her. I couldn't bear to see her suffer, and the lines etched on her face in the morning told tales of sleepless nights and restless dreams.

"Amelia," I murmured, my voice a gentle plea in the darkness. "You don't have to face this alone. I can't stand seeing you like this."

She sighed, her eyes opening to meet mine. "Harry, it's just dreams. I'll be fine. They'll pass."

But I couldn't shake the worry that gnawed at me. The love I felt for her surged within me, compelling me to find a way to ease the torment that haunted her every night. "Amelia, love, it's not just dreams if they're tormenting you like this. Let me help."

A tired smile touched her lips, but I saw the doubt in her eyes. "You've done enough, Harry. You were there for me when I needed you the most. But this... this is something I have to face on my own."

Stubborn as she was, I couldn't let it go. I reached for her hand, intertwining my fingers with hers. "Amelia, we're a team. We face things together. Let me be there for you."

She squeezed my hand, a silent acknowledgment of our connection. "Harry, you're my rock, and I appreciate it more than words can say. But these dreams are my burden to bear. I'll get through them."

The resolve in her voice didn't sway my determination. "There has to be something we can do. I can't stand by and watch you suffer."

She studied my face, her gaze softening. "You're too good for me, you know that?"

A wry smile played on my lips. "Maybe I am, but that doesn't change how I feel. I want to help you, Amelia. Let's find a way to put these nightmares behind us."

Amelia sighed, her gaze drifting to the window as if seeking answers in the moonlit night. "I don't even remember what triggered them. It's like a foggy memory that refuses to clear."

A thought sparked in my mind. "Maybe talking about it could help. Open up about what happened that night. Sometimes, confronting the past is the first step to healing."

"I love you Harry, it's okay I'm fine." She says.

The morning sun cast a warm glow across the room, but as I watched Amelia from across the breakfast table, a chill settled in my chest. She wore a practiced smile, a facade I could see through despite her attempts to seem fine. Her eyes, once vibrant, now held a flicker of sadness.

"Are you sure you're okay, Amelia?" I couldn't help but ask, concern etched in my voice.

She nodded, the smile lingering. "I'm fine, Harry. Just a little tired, that's all."

But I knew her too well. Beneath the surface, something troubled her, and I couldn't shake the feeling that it was connected to those persistent nightmares. I decided to bide my time, giving her the space she seemed to need, hoping she'd open up when ready.

As the day unfolded, I caught glimpses of her withdrawing into herself. The laughter that once echoed through our shared moments now sounded hollow, a mere echo of the joy she used to radiate. I wanted to reach out, to pull her into an embrace and promise that everything would be okay, but a barrier seemed to separate us.

It was in the quiet moments that the truth revealed itself. As evening descended, I noticed the way she fidgeted, subtly trying to conceal her hands. When she thought I wasn't looking, she'd glance down, a fleeting expression of pain crossing her face.

Unable to ignore the unease gnawing at me, I gently caught her hands in mine, a silent plea for her to let me in. She flinched, her eyes darting away, but I held on. The moment stretched, tension mounting until she finally met my gaze.

"Amelia, what's going on?" I asked, my voice filled with a mixture of worry and determination.

She tried to pull away, but I held firm. As I examined her hands, I noticed faint marks, evidence of a struggle that extended beyond the nightmares plaguing her sleep.

"What happened to your hands?" The words tumbled out, my concern transforming into a knot of fear.

Her eyes welled with tears, and she quickly averted her gaze. "It's nothing, just a scratch. Probably from a stray cat or something."

But I knew her too well. The lies hung in the air, palpable and heavy. "Amelia, please. Don't shut me out. I want to help you, but I can't do that if you won't let me in."

She swallowed hard, her shoulders slumping. "Harry, it's not what you think. I just had a clumsy moment, that's all. It's nothing to worry about."

The sincerity in her eyes clashed with the excuses she offered. I sighed, refusing to let her deflect. "Amelia, I've seen you struggle, seen the pain in your eyes. This goes beyond a simple scratch. Talk to me. Let me be there for you."

Her gaze wavered, torn between the desire to open up and the instinct to protect. "Harry, I appreciate your concern, I do. But it's really nothing. I can handle it on my own."

I shook my head, my heart aching for the woman I love. "Amelia, you don't have to handle everything on your own. Let me be your partner, your support. We've faced challenges together, and this is no different. Please, trust me enough to share your pain."

She withdrew her hands, a subtle gesture of resistance. "Harry, I'm fine. It's just a scratch. Let it go."

But I couldn't let it go. Not when the woman I love was hurting and refusing to let me in. I vowed to myself that I wouldn't give up on her, that I'd find a way to break through the walls she'd erected. Love demanded more than silence and secrecy; it demanded honesty and vulnerability. And I was determined to guide her back to the light, no matter how long the journey might be.

I've knew that, that mission was a bad idea for her.

*****

I'm back my lovely people, thank you for being patient with me xx

Miss you all