PREACHER'S DAUGHTER. ( harry styles )

2. SAY IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT

A FEW DAYS HAD PASSED since Frances had ran into Harry. He crossed her mind multiple times throughout those days, to the point that she dreamt of him one night. In her dream, he appeared to her in the cemetery where they met. Where her dad's grave was stood her dad, face smashed in and arms and legs twisted. All she could hear was the sound of her father's blood gushing out of his body. "You know," said Harry, his accent thick and voice deeper than she remembered.

"What do I know?" asked Frances.

"Think about it."

Before she could say anything else, her dad suddenly charged towards Harry and he disappeared into thin air.

"He can't be trusted," her dad muttered, his voice gargled from the blood in this throat.

Frances woke up suddenly and raised up in her bed. She glanced back at her alarm clock to see it was nearly 10 am. She groaned and rubbed the sleep from her eyes before getting up to get ready for the day. She walked over to her window and pulled the blinds away, placing her hand on the glass. It felt cool. She sighed, knowing she had to wear something slightly warm.

After cleaning her face, brushing her teeth and hair, she grabbed a long sleeved white dress, white tights and her mary janes and started to get dressed. Once she was ready, she exited her room and slowly headed down the stairs. The smell of cigarette smoke filled her nose as she got closer to the bottom. In the living room, her mom sat back in a recliner with her lit cigarette, eyes glued to the box tv that was playing Fox News.

"Mornin', mama," Frances greeted.

Her mom turned to look at her and smiled. "Hi, baby. How did you sleep?"

Frances shrugged, walking over and plopping down on the couch.

"Still having nightmares?"

Frances reluctantly nodded. Yes, she was still having nightmares, but they were changing. Did her dream mean anything? Was it a sign from God?

"Sorry, honey. I have them too this time of year," her mom sighed. "I miss your father so much."

Frances nodded once again.

"He used to say to me that nightmares was jus' spiritual warfare. The devil tryin' to get at me. And I know he's right... but... the way he speaks to me in my dreams, even though he's all bloody, he seems like himself," she paused again to take a drag from her cigarette before continuing. "Last night... he was lying next to me in my bed. And he said, 'Josie, are the kids home?' I told him you were and that Mark was out with friends. He panicked, saying I needed to call that boy and make him get his butt home," she laughed softly. "He was always so worried 'bout you two. Mark was a wild child. Luckily, you were a homebody like your mama."

Josie put the cigarette out in a nearby ashtray and leaned back in her seat. Nothing else was said, so Frances got up and gave her mom a kiss on the cheek before leaving the house. Frances hated being home. She loved her mom but it was hard for her to speak to her. Ever since her dad died, Josie changed. She felt bad for avoiding her but she couldn't help it. It made everything worse.

While Frances walked down the sidewalk, a car that was parked a few houses down pulled out and trailed behind her. Frances was too busy in her thoughts, glancing around at the houses in her neighborhood that she's seen a million times to even notice that the car stopped briefly. A man stepped out and slammed the door, the car speeding off and past Frances. She looked at the car and frowned. Was that the car that Harry was in? Is he stalking her now? Oh well, she thought. At least he didn't stop.

Frances continued her walk, only a few minutes away from her destination. She already made it to the "outskirts" of her small town, if you could even call it that. There were no more houses this far in town, except for one that Frances walked to everyday. It was her escape for the longest time and still was despite the memories attached to it. Usually, she'd go inside and rest on the mattress on the floor that was left there by the previous owners. It was at least twenty years old and the bed springs dug into her skin but she didn't mind it. She'd stay there for hours, lounging around and getting into her secret stash of alcohol she left behind there. She'd get a little wasted, sleep it off, wake up sober and head home. All before sunset so that her mom never questioned. It wasn't like she'd notice anyways.

Frances finally reached the house and was ready to head inside until she caught a glimpse of something in her peripheral. She gasped and turned to see Harry. She was startled, backing up and almost tripping on the steps of the porch. Frances caught herself before she could fall and straightened herself up, her eyes still wide in shock.

"Frances," Harry said with a smirk.

"W-What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

"You need to be more aware of your surroundings," he warned.

"What?"

Harry said nothing and reached into his pocket, taking out a pack of cigarettes. He opened it and pulled out a lighter and placed a cigarette between his lips, lighting it and putting away his pack.

"Were you following me?" Frances continued.

"You can say that," Harry blew the smoke out towards Frances, his smile growing when she waved the smoke away from her face. "Just wanted to see what you were up to."

"Why?"

Harry shrugged. "Dunno..."

"Why are you still in town? Don't you got business to attend to or something?"

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "Business? What kind of business do you think needs tending to?"

"I don't know, you tell me."

"No, you tell me," said Harry. "What did you see in the cemetery?"

"Is this what this is about? I already told you, I ain't see a damn thing."

"Woah," said Harry sarcastically. "Weren't you the daughter of a preacher?"

Weren't? Ouch.

"Harry, I don't got time for this."

"I'll leave once you tell me what you saw."

Frances sighed and crossed her arms.

"Frances," Harry urged.

"I saw two cars pull in the cemetery then I went to sit by another grave to give y'all privacy."

"I don't believe that."

"Well, what do you want me to say?"

"It's not what I want you to say, it's what I want to hear."

Frances shook her head. "I saw nothin'. So I ain't got anything you wanna hear. All I wanted was to visit my daddy. I gave y'all some privacy out of respect because I know I like being alone when I'm visiting my daddy's grave. Figured y'all would wanna be alone while y'all talked."

"But you saw nothing?"

Frances froze. "I-I didn't. I just... I reckon y'all were there to talk, that's it. I'm... I'm assuming."

"Right," muttered Harry but he didn't seem too convinced. "We'll talk about this more tomorrow. Eight o'clock. Wear something nice."

Frances opened her mouth to say something but Harry was already walking away. She watched him get further and further, Harry occasionally glancing back to get a look at her. He tossed his cigarette on the road and finally was out of view. Frances wasn't sure what to do. What would Harry do if she didn't show up for whatever it was he wanted her to show up for? How would he even get her to go wherever he wanted to go? Did Harry know where she lived?

She shivered at the thought. As she walked into the abandoned house, she thought about how deep down, she wouldn't mind if Harry knew where she lived. It excited her. Who was this man and what did he want with her?