Clash | Harry Styles

Chapter 23

Ashley's P.O.V

"Did you hear that?" I whisper into Harry's chest.

It's been an hour since we curled up into bed and my nerves have been jumping about all over the place. I can't shake the feeling that there is someone in the house with us. Even the risen hairs on my arms agree with me.

"Ash, there's no one in this house, please go to sleep?" Harry pleads already half asleep again.

"Sorry," I sigh.

Harry slides his hand into mine giving it a quick reassuring squeeze as he says, "Goodnight Ashley,"

"Goodnight Harry," I squeeze his hand back before closing my eyes and sinking back into the side if his chest.

My thoughts still aren't settled though and it takes me another hour before I finally start drifting off into a discomforting sleep.

***

I wake up to the sound of a startling scream from downstairs. I glance at the clock by the side of my bed and read it's nearly 3 am. I jump up into a sitting position when the scream sounds again. Harry's eyes fly open next to me, his expression turning to sheer worry.

"That sounds like my mom!" I nearly shout as I slide around Harry's body and nearly leaping off the bed.

"Oh God," Harry mumbles following closely behind me as I run down the stairs.

"Mom, is that you?" I shout terrified that something bad has happened to her.  "Mom, dad..."

"Ashley!" I hear my mom's quiet whisper of a voice come from the living room.

"Bloody hell Ashley, get in here now and explain this to us!" My dad shouts.

He's not one to get angry so quickly so it must be something bad for him to be acting like this and especially after one of their nights out.

"Wha-" I stop mid-sentence as I enter the living room.

My dad has his hands wrapped around my mom's frail looking body, her head is buried into his chest and she's shaking slightly as though she's crying. They're stood in the centre of the room - anger and sadness radiating from them.

My eyes grow wide and my breathing quickens as I take in the awful mess of the room I have just entered. Graffiti is covering all three of the cream coloured walls spelling out insults and threats such as: 'you bitch' or 'you'll pay', the furniture is either turned upside down or thoroughly destroyed. The insides of the sofa have been ripped out and thrown all over the room. The dark carpeted floor has been stained with red paint - most likely the same paint from the graffiti on the walls. Our once perfect clean homely living area now looks like a dump yard for drug users and I hate to think this but I know exactly who did this.

"You seriously think I did this to my own home?" I ask wide eyed almost feeling betrayed that my own family would think that low of me.

My vision starts to blur as the first tears start to make their way out. Not that many things cause the tears to unleash themselves but knowing my family doesn't trust me - their own daughter - is one of those things. I feel Harry's arm wrap around my waist to help comfort me, help keep me strong. Blinking back the tears I shake my head.

"Who is this? Did he stay here the night? Did he take advantage of you? Why aren't you on that school trip?" My father frowns at Harry who is stood topless next to me. "Did he do it?"

"What? Of course not why would you even think that?" My voice cracks as I end my sentence.

"Are you sure?" If looks could kill then I'm fairly certain Harry would be on the floor right about now, my dad is seething.