Fuck Me Gently || Harry Styles

chapter 24

TW // mentions of blood & death

•••••

It started with a single drop of blood, which turned out to only be the very start of the worst nightmare she had ever been in. She had been on the bathroom floor for over an hour now, although it was hard to tell because she wasn't even sure if she was conscious throughout it all. Not only were her legs fully covered in her own blood, so was the floor: she was surrounded by a puddle of her own blood and many towels she had laid out around her in an attempt to make it any less bad - if that was even possible.

She was unable to move, speak, or even normally breathe. All she could do was sob and let out screams from the immense pain in her body.

No one was there to help her. She knew that no matter how hard she'd scream, no one would be able to hear her. And she had no strength to go back to her bedroom and get her phone.

All she could do was sit it out, and hope that all of it was just a dream - the worst one she ever had.

Time went slow, as if every second was a minute, and the longer she sat in her own blood, sobbing, the less she tried praying for a miracle that would get her out of this. Because she knew it wouldn't come anyway.

She was so caught up in her own misery and pain, she didn't even process the sound of the front door opening. She didn't even realise that the miracle she had been so desperately praying for, was only a few feet beneath her.

And it was the very last person she expected to be that miracle.

"Indy?"

Her ears were ringing and her head was hurting so much, she could barely keep her eyes open. But the sound of the familiar voice calling her name from downstairs caught her attention instantly, stopping her from sobbing for just a second.

She'd know this voice anywhere.

"Indigo?"

She could hear shoes hitting the wooden floor of the hallway, telling her he was pacing around in the apartment, looking for her. Each step followed the last one a little faster than before, as if he was desperate to find her.

And although she had been begging for someone to find her, she suddenly didn't want to be found anymore. Not by him.

She was sat frozen on the cold bathroom floor, no sounds escaping her mouth but quiet sobs.

Her entire body was trembling, each nerve in her body tense and cramped.

"Are you home?" he asked, the sound of his voice accompanied by his shoes hitting each step of the stairs leading to where she was. As he reached the top, she could hear him open her bedroom door, followed by the bedroom door next to hers, followed by the one next to that.

The footsteps stopped.

She knew the bathroom was next.

"Are you in here?"

His voice was soft; a little raspy from shouting, but still soft. The sound of his quiet voice was followed by two knocks on the door that were just as quiet - barely audible.

She knew the door wasn't locked: she never even got the chance to lock it. And although she didn't want him to come in and find her like this, she didn't have the strength to move her body and make any sort of motion to stop him. She didn't even have the strength to tell him to call someone else.

Slowly, she pulled her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on the side of her arms that were accompanied around her knees to hopefully hide her body.