~ The Truth~
I woke up in a scream that could’ve woken the whole country.
Everyone in the car- I mean the room- set their undivided attention on me.
Niall dropped his half eaten slice of pizza.
Harry hung up the phone with a lucky girl without telling her he had to go.
Liam dropped his controller.
Zayn dropped his controller.
Louis finished his carrot then paid attention to me.
Paul was nowhere to be seen.
I guess I had been sleeping.
“Whats wrong?!” Niall asked.
“What the hell?!” Louis yelled.
“Are you dying?!” Liam shouted.
“Vas’ happening?” Zayn wondered.
Harry sat next to me and hugged me comfortingly.
“Are you okay? What happened? Did you have a nightmare?”
I was greatfully shocked at Harry’s actions.
“I’m fine... Just a bad dream.” I whispered Harry’s neck.
“Want to talk about it?” He asked.
I shook my head.
“Well, the only way the same dream won’t come again is if you clear it out of your system. Just tell me about it.” He hummed into my ear.
It calmed me drastically.
He shooed everyone out of the room and we made sure nobody had been eathsdropping.
“So tell me about this nightmare.” Harry suggested.
I nodded stiffly.
I didn’t feel all too comfortable telling him what I dreamt about because it was something utterly personal.
I’m not even sure how he’d react to it.
I drew in a sharp breath quickly.
“Here we go” I thought to myself before telling him my entire dream.
“Look, the nightmare basically revolved around the father of my child-to-be raping me. That’s about it.” I lied.
Harry knew I wasn’t telling him something important.
“Open up, Phoebe. Tell me the truth please.” He asked politely.
Tears started rolling down my bright pink cheeks.
“Alright fine, you want to know what it was actually about? No lies included?”
I asked him uncertainly.
He nodded shyly.
“Okay then, my father is the father of the baby in my stomach. He held me down on the floor of our home and beat me when I tried to move out of under him. He raped me. He broke my ribs on the right side. And you want to see something?”
Harry was red all over. He squeaked, “sure.”
I brought out my wrists from hiding in the long sleeves of my sweater.
The redness of them was still there and the swelling of them was still unfinished.
Harry gasped.
“Go ahead, feel em’.” I said.
Hesitantly, he placed his soft fingers on my ugly wrists and felt them.
“How long ago was this?” Harry asked worriedly.
“About three weeks.” I answered.
“Does it still hurt?” He asked out of curiosity.
I bit my lip and nodded.
He removed his hands fast, scared he was causing me more pain.
“You want to see something else?” I asked again.
He nodded shyly.
I pulled up my shirt on the right side to reveal my scares from the broken ribs the hospital tried to help heal.
Harry gasped and poked at the scares I had.
I snapped my eyes shut in pain.
Memories started flooding my brain.
Harry quit poking at them and apologized.
“No, your fine. It’s okay to be curious sometimes.” I confirmed.
“I’m so sorry this happened to you, love.” He attempted calming me again.
“At least you were smart enough to get out of there.” He finished.
“I didn’t leave. He pushed me out of the moving car.” I sighed.
“Well at least your far away from that grade-A jackass.”
I giggled.
He chuckled.
“Thank you for taking me in. Even if it was because I sparked your “hot-climax-scale-thingy”” I said.
He laughed at me.
He took my hand and guided it to his plump lips. “My pleasure.”
I laughed for once since mother’s death.
I forgot the feeling of laughter and happiness.
Thank you, Harry.
