Paparazzi's Pick (Harry Styles Fanfic)

The Truth

Erica Swan:

"Rise and shine sunshine," Derek yelled from upstairs.

"Derek let me go now!" I yelled. 

My wrists burned from me trying to get loose. The rope was tight and rough, I'm sure I have circles of red marks all over my wrists and fingers.

"Erica," Derek greeted as he came downstairs. "You actually don't look so bad."

"You're insane," I yelled at him.

His smug face made my blood boil. I just wanted to kick him in the face. But the harder I struggled the more amused he got.

"I hate you," I said finally and gave up.

"Aw babe, but we were so good," Derek mocked.

"Shut up," I hissed and looked down. 

I could not stand looking at him anymore. He was a monster. I can not believe I was in a relationship with this freak. What was I thinking?

"Look at me," he demanded.

"No," I refused as I looked at my shoes. 

I felt a hard force that made my face swing to the other side. The place his hand made impact with my cheek burned. I yelled and glared at him. Never had anyone hit me. Never.

"You are mentally unstable," I cursed him out. 

"Sweetheart, its not attractive to curse at people," his voice sounded much like a parent punishing their child.

"I hate you so much Derek," I yelled. "You're dead to me."

"Erica you of all people need to understand that there is more to the story," he said roughly. 

"You kidnapped me to explain your side of the story?" I laughed. "How idiotic do you think I am?"

"Listen to me!" he yelled, his frustration had reached a new high.

"Fine."

"Ansley lied about her past. She is not the girl that Harry and Louis worship. She is a schizophrenic. When she was a child she used to have bizarre hallucinations. She was constantly paranoid. Anxious and with constant mood swings, no one really tried to understand what was going on with her. My family brushed it off as a phase, she would soon get over. But things just kept getting worse. She got addicted to alcohol, each day she would consume large amounts and pass out in her room. My mom was really worried but my dad never really found patience to understand her. One day he had enough, she acted up and he yelled at her. It was just the two of them in our house. I have no idea what happened but when I got home, the house was a mess. Everything was thrown, shattered, broken and trashed. I thought we had been robbed. I ran upstairs to check if Ansley was alright. She was not in her room. I called out for my dad because I knew he was home early that day. I had no response from either of them. I ran back downstairs and went to the kitchen. I saw my dad with a knife in his chest. He had bled out by the time I got there, he was dead."

Derek stopped and looked at me. I was trying to get everything he just told me. Nothing made sense, Ansley was part of an abusive foster family. She ran away. Harry helped her. Derek hurt her. That made sense right?

"Are you okay?" Derek asked as he walked closer. 

I only looked at him. My head raced as it tried to fit Derek's story with Harry's story. Both conflicted, nothing made sense. Who do I believe?

"I don't know who to believe," I admitted quietly. 

My voice had dried up so having said those few words to Derek scratched my throat. I cleared my throat but I had nothing else to say.