I Love You. [h.s]

22.

||H A R R Y||

Thursday 13th March, 2014.
8:32am, London, England.

He touched her.

He fucking touched her.

He had the bloody audacity to put his hands on her.

How fucking dare he?

How could I let him touch her?

I could just feel the terror in her horrified brown eyes, most probably being reminded of the disgusted life she was forced to live as a blossoming teenager.

I closed my eyes, feeling so sorry for how she was treated.

"H-H-Harry, I just want Harry, please!" Her panic-stricken sobs had made me raise my head as the police colleagues followed at the chilling cry of my best friend.

"Dad, where is she?" I looked up at my Dad as he gave my forearm a light rub and pat, his own eyes wandering the police station.

We were all worried about the state in which Maddie was in, and in the state in which she came to my house. 

I hadn't seen her for a whole month, no sight of her in school and no more visits of her precious smile to my house.

It was only 9pm in the evening, and Mum put a film on for Gemma and I. I went to go get some water from the kitchen, but along with the harsh beatings to the Tarmac outside from the rain, there were harsh beatings to my door.

I was going to make my way to open it, but Mum had beat me to it. She'd covered my view of whoever was at the door, but once I'd peeked my head to see past my Mum, I was shaken.

My best friend had no smile this time, the rain was coming from her eyes and she'd become a near victim of darkness.

Her hair wasn't its beautiful blonde, her brown eyes weren't shining the brightest, and her pretty fair skin held bruises and bloody gashes.

Her nightgown, once a pure white, had been tainted with tears, revealing her bruised knees and hand marks on her ankles as if someone had been-

I opened my eyes, an angry storm making their way to my tear ducts and I wasn't going to be one to fight it back.

She was only fucking ten.

People were sexualising her innocence as if it were a game.

But she'd ran before they could ruin her purity.

Nobody knew what her story was.

They only saw her for her body and what she could give, physically and sexually.

The next two months after the incident, she became acquainted with my bed and I was there to protect her from the monsters in her sleep.

If only sleep had been her friend at the time.

It took her two years to get over what she'd been through, and I didn't dare to leave her until she was confident to be herself again.

"Harry." At the mention of my name, I looked up to see one of my dear friends.

"Anne wanted me to call you to the family room." Niall said, his Irish accent never failing to give me a somewhat calmness. It was Niall, he was a little sunshine even though he happened to be older than me.

"Did she say why?" I asked, looking back at the cup of tea in front of me.

Even though it was so warm, my heart was cold.