Baby Doll (Harry Styles)

Chapter 3 - Boy

"Harry's in his late thirties. Looks a lot like Mr Damian." Richard paused for a moment to grin at me, the droopy fat on his cheeks unevenly puffing out. "He's got three kids, the oldest one is a year older than you."

The tinted car window rolled down, revealing Damian's somewhat annoyed face. "We need to hurry now. I've got other things to do." He said, unaware of what Richard was telling me.

Richard pulled at the handle of the car door and held it open for me. "Oh, and you might not want to disobey him. He tends to get physical when he's pissed off." He whispered before tilting his head to the side, signalling me to go in.

My breath hitched in my throat as I tightened my grip on the bag I held onto. I silently slid into the back passenger seat, too frightened to disobey anyone at this point. Richard shot a devilish smile at me before slamming the door closed.

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I remained silent the whole journey, with a few quiet sobs the only sound I produced. When he wasn't busy talking on his phone, Damian spoke to me. He asked me things like how long I'd been staying in Fleese and he wanted to know about my parents. But I ignored him.

I looked down at the purple sports bag I was given. I gently unzipped it to find short dresses and sheer nightgowns folded inside. With a sudden sense of disgust greeting my system, I zipped it back up and pushed it aside.

My eyes were just fluttering closed out of both mental and physical exhaustion when I was told that we had arrived. The journey was shorter than I expected. The tyres of the Mercedes screeched as we pulled over along the driveway, and I felt my pulse quicken.

I reluctantly stepped out of the car in favour of Damian's request, taking the sports bag along. It was better to have something rather than nothing. Strong winds blew at me, stealing the elastic band of my hair. My dark locks became loose and they bounced with the fluctuations of the wind. It was only then that I realised Bee had actually managed to make my hair look presentable... but for all the wrong reasons.

"Hurry up now." I heard Damian call. The plump old man was already at the doorstep of the mansion. "It's a cold night."

I hurried along the pathway leading to the mansion, wary of the wetness. My feet froze when I reached the doorstep. I couldn't bring myself to enter eventhough the entrance door was already wide open.

My eyes adjusted to the bright yellow lights of the interior as I stood still on the welcome mat. "Come on in." Damian urged. He sat himself down on the leather sofa by the small fire burning on a side of the wall.

I cautiously stepped in and the door was shut behind me, making my heart jump. I noticed a chubby middle aged woman in a maid's dress smiling at me. I returned the friendly gesture in weaker demeanour before carrying myself further into the house.

Damian's son was nowhere in sight. I wondered where his wife and children were. My head felt heavy as my anxiety began to build up all over again.

"Make yourself at home, Thalia." Damian told me, pulling a tobacco out of his pocket. He stood up and strode over to me. "I have something to attend to. So I'll be leaving you now."

I wasn't sure if it was something to be relieved about. I knew Damian played a role in this tragedy but he was the one who brought me here and the only one who could take me back, as far as I knew. I didn't know what was coming my way tonight. I wasn't prepared for anything.

"Listen here, child," He turned to me when he reached the door. "I know this is all very new for you, but all I ask of you is to make my son feel like a real man."

A real man? Fathering three children hadn't made him feel like a real man?

When Damian left after sealing every lock on the entrance door, I found myself alone in the living room with the maid smiling at me everytime I met her gaze. She looked friendly... and I had a crazy idea. I hoped she would help me escape if I told her my story.

"Would you like a hot drink, dear?" She offered, the smile never leaving her face.

"I'm Thalia. What's your name?" I asked instead.

"Oh, Maria but I get called Mrs Briffen, you could really call me anythi-."

"Mrs Briffen... could you help me with something?" I requested as I dropped my sports bag to the floor.

"I already know what you want, love." She said as she brought her pudgy hands together, interlocking her fingers. "You want me to help you. But I'm sorry to tell you that I was warned of this by Richa- I mean, Mr Richard in the evening. He told me if you got away, all blame would be on me and Mr Damian would fire me."

I heaved a sigh in defeat, palming my forehead. Even if I managed to escape, I would be putting my family in jeopardy... so I was trapped in this miserable fate.

"I'm sorry. But would you still like a hot dri-"

"Mrs Briffen!" A loud male voice echoed from upstairs, causing me to shudder. It was him.

"Coming!" She responded in a quieter tone before turning to me again. "He's awake now."

"Glass of milk..." The deep voice sounded again, this time clearer. A tall shadow appeared on the wall surrounding the spiralling staircase before profound sounds of footsteps followed. I fidgeted with the material of my dress as my thoughts raced.

"But you're lactose intolerant, remember?" She reminded him.

I was taken by surprise when he was finally visible. He wasn't in his late thirties and he definitely couldn't have fathered three grown children - unless if he was one of the children. I couldn't be sure. Whoever he was, he was young and in fact, he looked about my age. He was in black jeans and the buttons of his plaid shirt were all popped open. He staggered down the stairs, his dark brown hair a disastrous mess. He was drunk. 

"I'm... going out." He slurred, rubbing his eyes as he took the last step down from the staircase. I was surprised at how he managed to successfully get downstairs without falling. "Peter's birthday."

"You've just gotten back and I really don't think it is safe for you to drive." Mrs Briffen advised.

"I'm capable-" He paused and attempted to straighten himself up by pushing against the sofa. "I'm capable of deciding on my own... whether or not I can go."

"I think-"

"Keep quiet! You're making me dizzy." His hands hovered around as he struggled to balance himself.

He stumbled towards the entrance door. He slurred some words that I couldn't understand and when he finally reached his destination, he was forced to lean against the wood. He had lost his balance. His forehead scraped at the door as he began to slide down to the floor.

Mrs Briffen rushed to him and propped his arm around her shoulders. "I'm al...right." He groaned as his heavy eyes fell closed.

He took no notice of my unnerved state, or my presence for that matter as Mrs Briffen directed him to the couch in the living room, walking past me. He immediately collapsed onto the velvet couch once reached, his intoxicated body bouncing a little before going completely stationary.

Mrs Briffen stepped away once she was sure the boy was secure. She took in a deep breath before turning to me with an uneasy smile.


"Thalia... this is Harry."

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I noticed that many of you are confused about Harry's age. He isn't in his thirties nor does he have children. Richard only said that to scare Thalia. :P