Unsteady || H.S

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

mature warning

I stand in the bathroom as Harry gets the pizza ready, looking into the mirror at my discolored, beaten body. The girl I see isn't the girl I've known my whole life, she's a stranger as she stands in her boyfriend's shirt and her panties, hair in a messy bun and glasses crooked on the bridge of her nose. Scars of past discoloration and cuts from rings have been covered but not healed. Emptiness fills me as I stand there alone, looking at the counter I lean on when I can no longer stand to look at myself.

A sudden touch to my hips causes me to jump slightly and look up to see Harry standing defeated behind me. He sighs and rests his head on my shoulder while a tear runs down my cheek at the sight of my broken man. His arms snakes around my waist and I lean back into his touch.

"What did I do to make him hate me so much," I whisper, the pain in my voice audible to myself and probably to Harry as well. His hands delicately turn me to face him, his eyes holding sorrow as he looks down at me. "Baby he doesn't hate you. Quite the opposite really, he realized that he had already lost your mum, and once you left he realized that he lost you as well. His actions were inexcusable but I think he thought if he could control you he wouldn't have to lose you. And knowing you already found a man to take care of you must have been the last straw." His words comfort me beyond belief, the thought that my father hated me was eating away at me since that night.

"And those people in class saw the opportunity to knock you down and they took it. Harry they shouldn't be allowed to treat you like that and somehow it must make them feel better about themselves but I'm so sorry I didn't help even more. I should've gone up there and just, ended her for the things she said about you. I can't believe someone is okay with hurting you, my innocent little cupcake."

"Cupcake? I'm a man," he scoffs but I know he enjoys being thought of this way. He doesn't want to be seen as rude, or hurtful, he's harmless and caring. I nod, for his sake agreeing with him. "The pizza looks great, ready to eat?" I nod and let him take my hand, he leads me down the stairs, holding my hand as lightly as possible in fear of hurting me. We eat in silence, not awkward but comfortable as we enjoy each other's presence.

Our dinner is finished quickly, neither of us having much of an appetite in the first place. I excuse myself to go to the bathroom, my mind continue to run off its tracks after this morning. My body courses with pain as I walk up the stairs, each step I've taken today adding yet another ounce of pain. I whimper as I see myself so broken, this is why I always closed myself off, so I wouldn't get hurt. And in no way was this Harry's fault nor was I blaming him but if I had kept away from him he wouldn't be this hurt either.

It must've been ten minutes later when I heard Harry lightly knock on the door. "Uh, just a minute," I sniffle as I begin to wipe at my tears. "You're crying Sky," his voice is soft and comforting but I choke on another son. "No, no I'm not I," he opens the door slowly and walks in to join me. I nearly cringe at the thought of what I must look like to him, tear stained cheeks, bruises and cuts. I shy away from his touch and ask him to leave, ask him to let me cover myself.

"Do me one favor love." I shrug and his fingers take the hem of the short covering my upper body. I immediately shake my head but he begs me to trust him. "Harry I don't like you seeing me this way," my voice cracks and I begin to miss the confidence I once held before my father intruded. "You're going to have to trust me. I'm going to close my eyes, see? Closed. No take the shirt off please love." I hesitate but take it off, lying it down nicely on the counter before telling Harry I was finished.

With his eyes still closed he removed his shirt and jeans, tossing them on the floor beside him before guiding me to look towards the mirror. His tattooed arm wraps around my chest, modestly covering my breasts before he opens his eyes. My breath hitches as our eyes make contact through the mirror before I look at our bodies, immediately disgusted by my own. "Do you want to know what I see, what I feel when I look at this right now?"