Stockholm Syndrome *One Direction Fanfic*

Chapter 6

*** Okay, um wow. So I haven't touched this story for a while because I was writing my more... successful story. I will be trying to update more, as much as I can without it getting in the way of Oblivion. so I hope you don't give up on me. Here goes chapter 6! ~Mare xX ***

Harry told me I could use his room for now until he could make space for me. I was reluctant at first because I didn't want to cause anyone inconvenience, but I took it that night because I was exhausted both physically and mentally.  I closed the heavy wooden door behind me and leaned my back against it. I covered my face and slid down the door. I let the tears flow down my face. Soon, my heavy sobs were racking my body violently. I don't know how long I sat their crying, maybe a few hours, But by the time I looked up again, the room was dark and snow was falling heavily against the glass window across the room.

I stood up unsteadily and fell into Harry's bed. I stripped off the sweatshirt he lend me and lay shivering under the sheets. I turned on my side and gazed into the wintry sky, watching the light of night glisten off the snow covered ground. The pine trees swayed slightly in the wind and I thought back to my parents on the winter's eve. They would be alone for Christmas. No Abigail and certainly no me. What was the date? When I... left... it was December 8. Harry said I was out for three days after he found me, but where was the missing time in between? The time that had given me bruises and marks on my worn body.

I leaned comfortably into Harry's pillow, taking in the faint smell of spice and mint. I let the darkness close in around me and fell into an unsteady sleep.

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"Annabeth?"

I turned from the mirror and looked at the tousled Harry behind me.

I waved my hand in the air slightly. "I was just... cleaning up."

Harry smiled faintly and pushed a clump of curls out of his eyes. "I was running into town and wanted to know if you needed anything?"

I looked down at the baggy sweatpants and t-shirt Harry had lend me and let out a breathy laugh. "I'm not exactly going-into-town worthy."

Harry bit the inside of his lip sympathetically and I immediately felt bad.

"No, no." I gushed, eager to get the words out. "You have done so much already I'm sorry."

I looked down at the floor and avoided Harry's eyes. I could hear him chuckle and then shift along the door frame.

"No it's fine. You definitely could use some new clothes." Harry said finally. He paused. "You look bloody terrible."

I laughed and turned back to the mirror. I ran my fingers through my tangled hair. "Thanks Harold." I looked back at him with a glint in my eyes. "Is that your name? Harold?"

He frowned. "Harry."

I smiled and finished brushing through my hair before loosely weaving it into a French braid. "Okay, Harold."

I tied off the braid and let it fall down my back. I faced Harry and waved my hands gently about my face. "Good?"

"No," Harry kept his face straight, furrowed with an indistinct scowl. "You look bloody terrible."

"Well fine." I suppressed my laugh. "But I didn't choose your name,  no use getting you're beret in a twist."

"I'm British." Harry smirked.

"Right..." I blushed. "Then what is that? Tea bag in a kink?"

"Whoa," Harry rolled his head forward and let out a laugh. "That was painful."