Angel (A Harry Styles Fanfiction)

Chapter 1

I breathed heavily as I fumbled my fingers through the dark room, desperately searching for a light switch. I could  

feel my heart beat going at a rapid pace; something it has never felt before. I am almost relieved when my right hand finds a source of light; I am just glad to be aware of my surroundings. I could hear his footsteps coming down the hall; angry, and thirsty for revenge. I had only a few seconds to make a decision on where to hide. Under the bed? Where's his closet? The bedroom door slammed open with strong force and Hank came stumbling in, almost too wasted to know where he was. I almost make a run for it; go past him and head out his front door, using his intoxicated blood as an advantage. But his eyes flutter open wide as he notices my cringed, frightened body up against his wall. "Hank.." I almost whispered. "Let's talk about this.."

I've always known him to have a wild, intimidating side. Especially when alcohol pumped its way through his veins. But never have I seen him this angry... this dark.. His eyes are filled with lust, but then he deepens his stare on me, his fists balling up tightly. "No, no, no.." He slowly walks over to the corner of his bedroom, his face only inches from mine. "Need I remind you Becca? You are mine. You let that douche bag dance all over you." I took a deep breath in, and exhaled slowly. If only he knew it wasn't what it looked like.. I would never intentionally let a stranger come grinding on me. But something triggered my mind that this was not the right timing for an explanation. "That was a naughty thing to do, Baby.. " His hands gripped my thighs tightly, forcing me harder against the wall.

"Hank.. Please.." I begged him. I have never been so frightened, and I wanted nothing more than the comfort of my own family and my home at that moment. "Looks like I need to show you who you belong to.." His words were slurring with alcohol, as he ran his fingers up my sides. No, no, no, no.. 

This cannot happen. Please God, help me.  

He roughly threw me on the bed trying to fiddle his his hands up my shirt. He pinned my arms down with force as I tried to escape his grasp. "Hank! Stop!" I screamed at him. It seemed to take him off guard, as I noticed his grip on me loosened a bit. I took that chance to do the only thing I knew to do. The bottom of my heels kicked him roughly on his manhood. He winced in pain. I grab my purse at the end of his bed and run.  

I never even made it to the front door before his arms snaked around my waist. "I don't think so!" He spat in my face.

He threw me against his kitchen wall, and his slender hand popped across my left cheek. I winced. The burning in my face only getting worse. His nails dug into the skin on my arms. I kicked him one final time with all the strength I had left in my body. He collapsed onto the kitchen floor, the alcohol getting the best of him. I grabbed my belongings on the floor, and didn't look back as I ran as swiftly as my feet would let me go.

******* 

New York was a scary place. Especially during the night hours when you're walking alone. I waited on the sidewalk as I tried my best to get a taxi driver's attention. I needed to be home as soon as possible. My mind is clattered with a billion things. What do I tell my parents when I walk in the doorway with bruises on my face and blood on my arms? The cold winter air blew against my burning skin, distracting me from my jumbled thoughts. I don't think I'll ever be able to process what just happened to me.

Finally, a kind enough taxi driver pulled over for me. I nodded to him as I got in the unfamiliar car and slammed the door behind me. I could tell his concerned look on his face was directed towards my bruised cheek and my runny mascara. I ignored him. He cleared his throat, and I had an eery feeling.  

Next to me sit a lean, curly haired boy. He laid against the seat cushion smirking at me. "I'm pretty sure I got this cab first." I said to him hoping he would leave without a word. I didn't have time for this. "Sorry love, " his British accent luring through the car, "it was definitely me." I rolled my eyes. He squinted at me through the darkness. "Are you alright? Do you need to go to the hospital..?" He seemed genuinely concerned. "N-no." I stuttered. "I'm fine. I'd just like to go home."  

"Are you sure..?" Who is this kid and why does he care? His stare burned through me. I could tell he knew what was going on without having to ask me. "I'm sure." I emphasized. The taxi cab driver cleared his throat in annoyance. I looked at the strange boy one last time, silently pleading him to leave the car. I did not want to go out and stand alone outside. I was far too paranoid, and the thought alone gave me chills.

"You don't deserve that." He whispered to me. My heart started to beat faster as he slowly opened the car door. I looked at him in disbelief. I watched as the mysterious, curly haired boy gave me once last glance and faded into the darkness.