Canon | (Harry Styles AU)

[fifty eight]

[everything in the beginning that's in italics is the past, so try not to get confused. It's as if harry is living the moment while remembering this from the past.]

Suddenly I was a kid again.

My mouth was so dry, that panicked feeling surfacing, my body heavy, just like it always use to get when I had walked in on a big fight between my parents.

It was all too familiar.

Except this time it was familiar because it reminded me of that time my father found the money my mother had hidden away for us to escape..the day I needed stitches.

"Stay in your room okay bub," Mom had said through a shaky smile, turning on the small tv on my dresser.

"Why is he so upset?" I remember asking, holding my head. We were just returning from the hospital where they had tugged and pulled my skin back together. All I wanted to do was lie down with my mom while she rubbed my back telling me Id be okay.

"I'm not sure bub. I'm just going to talk to dad and try to fix it okay?" She sniffled a little, still smiling, and I nod.

She shut the door, and I tried with everything I could to just focus on the tv. But I couldn't because the struggling and the screaming and the throwing was so loud I swore my ear drums would burst.

I had slowly crept down the hall until I reach the living room down stairs.

"Dad.." I struggled to say, horrified by what was in front of me-my mother covered in blood, her face so swollen I knew in a few hours she wouldn't even look like herself because of it.

I remember feeling so much fear..I was next..of course I was next. He was going to kick my *ss far worse then this gash he left on my forehead from kicking me after school. He was going to beat me until he felt like he had had enough, and there would be no one to stop it..

"What the hell are you doing here," My hands tighten into a fist.

I take a step forward toward my mother, and he mimics my steps challengingly, ready to block me.I look from the monster I thought I'd never have to see again, to my mother who's a few feet away unconscious on the floor, her hair sprawled around her face, covering it.

"Go to your room son.."

"What's going on?" I ask fearfully.

"I said go to your room!" he shouts angrily at me,"Now because.."

..I don't want to have to do something to you that I'll regret later.."

"I am not afraid of you anymore," I tell him with all the courage I can put into my voice. Though his wording and appearance is the same, I knew that this time things would not end with me locked away in my room with my arms wrapped tightly around myself as I hid in the closet.

"You don't need to be afraid for me to kick your sorry-deceiving *ss," He expresses his angry. I knew he'd be pissed once he figured out me and my mom were gone for good that time. He felt like he owned us, I knew he'd be pissed..I knew he'd be full of rage. I  had always wondered what that rage would fuel..would he move on and find a new victim?..would he realize the error of his ways and change? In the back of my mind I always sort of figured that the possibility of my father finding us was slim, but very possible. After all, I never really bought the story my mother told me.

As we sat on the bus with the furthest route from Florida, I stared out the window willing myself to ask the one looming question at the back of my mind.