impacts - Ashton Irwin

s e v e n t e e n

ANNABELLE'S POV

"Annabelle, oh my god." He choked as he tried to come closer.

I backed up against the wall in absolute fear. Opposite of before, so many thoughts ran through my head.

"I didn't know it was you," he stopped as I shook my head, my hands pulling at the roots of my hair. I just couldn't believe it. The guy who was so nice to me a few days ago had just done this to me. The tears didn't stop there, they kept pouring down my face. I began to hyperventilate as I tried to calm myself down, but I couldn't.

All I could manage to choke out was, "Y-you m-mon-ster."

And with that, I ran out of the bathrooms, out of the club. I sat outside on the curb, trying to look around for anyone.

"Hey Anna! The others got really bored so they left but I assured them I'd stay here with you!" I heard Michael's voice behind me. I turned around to look at him and his eyes went wide.

"What's wrong?!" He panicked as I flopped to the ground, my body weak as it lay on the concrete of the cold road and my head feeling sore as the lump tar pressed against it. I felt Michael's arms wrap around my body as he ran somewhere I was unsure of. My head lay in his chest as I violently sobbed.

He placed me in what I think was Ashton's car. As I looked up at him, he got into the driver's side. He looked at me with confusion and extreme panic. I'd never seen him like this.

"Annabelle, what happened? Last I saw you, you were happy and going to pee-" He stopped mid sentence as I  started crying hysterically again. His own eyes started to water themselves.

"W-what happened in the bathroom Annabelle?" His stern voice was hollow and raspy, I just couldn't respond. And I think Michael got the idea of what had happened.

"Oh my god." His hands covered his mouth and he ran his fingers through his hair. I continued to cry and cry.

"P-pl-please don't t-tell any-anyone." I stammered out, my voice cracking with fear.

We started to drive back to the house, my mind not focusing on what Michael was saying. I think he was  talking to himself.

"Somebody should've been in there with you,"

"Who the fuck would of wanted to hurt you,"

"I'll kill the bastard,"

We finally arrived home, I hopped out of the car, my weak frame falling immediately to the ground as Mike rushed over. No, I was not weak with strength, I just felt defeated. My legs wouldn't hold me. Not because I was drunk, because that sure as hell was wearing off.

We entered the house and Michael sat me down on the couch, giving me a blanket. I curled up in a ball as he sat down next to me. He wiped the hair off of my wet face and took off his over-sized jumper, handing it to me as I slowly put it over top of my clothes. The sleeves went over my hands as I wiped my face, seeing the ridiculous amount of makeup on the sleeve.

Michael chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "I put the kettle on."

I hadn't cried in at least 10 minutes, but as soon as Michael and I locked eye contact, I crawled near him and sobbed, my eyes feeling like clouds that let down torrential rain. Flashbacks appeared in my head as I squeezed my eyes shut.

"H-Harry did it." I whispered as Michael let go of me, his face covered with an angry look.

"You've got to be fucking kidding, that fucking prick." He roared as more tears pricked in my eyes.