Beautifully Broken (harry styles fan fiction)

chapter four

VICTORIA'S P.O.V.|

I woke up abruptly.

Siting up from the couch, I yawned, glancing through the soft red curtains to see the night black. What time is it? I thought.

Fumbling around for my phone, I checked the time, and saw that it was 2:38 a.m. I had a text from Alice, saying she was staying the night at her boyfriend, Phil's, house. She had said she was going to be back at 5 p.m. tomorrow.

The living room was pitch black. I sat up, sweat on the back of my neck.

I began to feel a need for water, or a drink, a dry feeling in the back of my throat annoying me.

I got up, doing my best to not make any noise to awake Harry, who was asleep on the floor. Tiptoeing, I found my way to the kitchen, through a small white door.

The refrigerator had about ten photos of Harry and Carolyn, and the beach, and birthday cards. Opening the refrigerator, I got a water from the bottom drawer.

Suddenly, I heard the door to the kitchen open.

"Get the hell out of my house now. There's nothing in here for you. I'll blow your fucking brains out."

It was Harry's voice. Turning around, I faced him, fear branded on my face.

He was standing there, in black gym shorts and a black shirt, with something in his hand.

It was a gun.

Aimed at me.

This has got to be a fucking dream, I thought.

Realization hit his face, and his green eyes turned soft. He lowered and placed the gun on the counter beside him. His eyebrows knitted together, and his emerald eyes glowed under the light.

"Victoria," he breathed.

I backed away. "Harry, what happened?"

He came towards me. "Please don't be afraid, Victoria. Just let me explain."

"I'm not afraid," I lied.

Harry sighed, running his hands through his hair, sweat shining on his forehead.

"Sit down," he breathed.

My eyes locked with Harry's, I pulled out a wooden chair from the small table in the center of the kitchen, and sat down.

Calmly, Harry sat in the seat across from me.

"Do you know when I offered you a piece of candy, and you freaked out?" Harry asked, his eyes wide.

I nodded, the memory from a couple of days ago still in my head.

"Well, I have this....this phobia. I don't really know the term for it. None of the doctors do. Something happened to me in my past," Harry said, lowering his voice as if someone could hear us.

My eyebrows knitting together in confusion, I leaned forward.

"Why do you have a gun in your house?" I asked.

"I told you, I'm afraid that someone is going to break into my house and steal everything that my sister and I have fucking got," Harry spat rudely.

I leaned back, nodding. "Okay."

"When Carolyn first started staying with me, about two months ago, she had woken up in the morning, like you. She was in the kitchen, and she turned around to face me, with a gun in my hand. Just like you."

Harry sighed.

"And then what?" I asked, curious.

"She tried to bring me back. She screamed and pleaded, showed me picture after picture to attempt to put me back into my right mind. I just couldn't help it. It was like a part of me was under the ice, the part of me that knew Carolyn was my little sister, and that she was all I had left. But the ice wouldn't break," Harry said, breathing heavily.

"What happened, Harry?" I whispered, tears filling my eyes.

"She had to call the cops on me. They took me to jail for the night, but they let me out because of my mental state. They tried to say I was crazy, Victoria. And they sent me to group therapy, more doctors, and even a psychic."

"Did she ever completely forgive you?" I asked, my voice cracking.

Harry nodded, leaning back in his chair. He was staring down at his feet.

"Two weeks later, she came back. I love Carolyn more than anything in this world. If I ever lose her, Victoria, I'm screwed," Harry said, his eyes returning to me.

I nodded, breathing slowly. "I'm sorry, Harry. You aren't crazy. You just haven't had the best of luck."

Harry's mouth twitched into a tiny smile. He ran his hand through his long chestnut, curly hair and looked up at the ceiling.

"We should probably go back to sleep," Harry finally commented, looking back at me.

I nodded, agreeing. I had forgotten about the itch in my throat. Standing up, I walked out the kitchen, Harry following me.

Harry sat down on the floor, and I lay back on the couch, wrapping myself up in a blanket, but I couldn't find sleep after about ten minutes.

"Victoria," Harry whispered, and I jumped.

It was pitch black. I could see nothing, and I only heard Harry's voice.

"Yes?" I replied.

"Will you lay with me?" He asked.

His voice reminded me of a lost child. He sounded like a little boy who couldn't find his mother. The fraction of my heart that had a weakness for vulnerability, sighed, and I gave in.

"Yes, Harry, I'll lay with you," I replied.

Sliding off of the couch, I lay on the blanket next to Harry, his warmth taking over me. I snuggled up to him, and breathed in his scent. He smelled like mint, and laundry. His body was so warm, heat was literally radiating off of him.

"Thank you for being so kind to me, Victoria," Harry whispered. "I have never deserved what you have done for me."

I turned my face away from him, and scooted towards the end of the pallet. I couldn't be like his; I couldn't be laying beside him. I hardly knew what he was capable of. Hell, he just aimed a gun at me and threatened to blow my brains out. I just breathed slowly, and no matter how bad I wanted to, I didn't get closer to him. I couldn't allow myself to. So, I just did what I could to reply, clearing my throat.

"Goodnight, Harry."

And with that, I went to sleep, suddenly doubting my opinions about fate and destiny.

Authors note:

Hey I don't want to rush this. But I'm trying to make it as great as I can. And this chapter sucked. It's length and contents were horrible. I'm disgusted with this work of mine. I apologize.

Thanks

-Amber