Shattered (Harry Styles Fan-Fic)

(WARNING: This contains self-harm/suicide and profanity; i.e. Mature situations.)

****Three Years Ago****

I sat in bed, my head settled between my hands as my fingers pulled at my hair. I rocked back and forth slightly, trying to block out the harsh words coming from the other side of my bedroom door. No, they weren't directed at me, but they still cause me agony, nonetheless. Tears began to stream down my already mascara-stained cheeks, soaking into my sheets beneath me.

I let out a sharp breath, screwing my eye closed to retain my flowing tears. Crashes came from the other side of my door and I jumped, a sob escaping my throat. Immediately, I grabbed the end of my comforter and flung myself into the mattress. I curled up into a ball, holding the comforter over top of me as if it were my shield. Even though the crashes died down, I knew the spiteful words were not yet over.

"...then we have that little idiot in her room all the time, too fucking terrified of being around people because she's fucked up just like you are!" I heard my father shout at my mother, almost as if the words were meant for my ears to detect.

"You do not speak of Shane like that! You're the cause of everything you bastard!" My mother returned with veracity.

I slowly uncovered myself, lowering my legs over the side of the bed and creeping towards my door. The hard-wood floor was chilly against my bare feet, causing shivers to run up and down my entire body. My hands reached out in front of me, groping the door-handle and twisting it gently. I pulled the wood open slightly, putting my forehead against the crack, peering out into the hall-way.

I adjusted my body, my feuding parents coming into view. They seemed to take no notice of me, to wound within fueling their own need for come-backs and insults, slandering each other so ruthlessly, so easily. For a moment, silence filled every room in the house, nearly suffocating me. Then, just when I thought I could bare no more of the gnawing silence, my mother's voice filled the void.

"I'm done; with you, with every-fucking-thing that is alive." Her voice was shaking, tears evident in how she spoke.

She turned on her heel, moving from my father who only watched her. I heard a door slam, my parents' bedroom more than likely. I nearly jumped when my father turned towards my door, our eyes yet to meet. His stormy grey eyes were blood-shot and crazed from alcohol most likely, his lips chapped and cracking. His cheeks looked almost hollowed out, always having that effect for as long as I could recollect. Even from here, I could spot his nostrils flaring each time he inhaled, his mouth refusing to reopen. His bony fingers were balled into tight fists as they shook by his side.

My heart nearly dropped as he took a step forward, striding in my very direction. However, I remained still, only to discover him barging out the front door. My mother, I assumed, had locked her door and was currently trying to sleep away her anguish as she normally did. To be truthful, I could not blame her. Sleeping was one f the few ways I could handle to stay here, to stay in such a place where hate, anger, abuse, and anxiety was very much present.

I quietly latched my door back, turning and padding over to my bed, my cheeks still stained with drying tears. I planted my hands on top of my mattress, swinging my leg onto the bed as I climbed in. I drew in a breath, wincing, as the fabric of my sweat pants rubbed against the fresh marks on my thighs. I clenched my eyes shut as I rested my head against the soft pillow, tugging my sheets and comforter over my cooling body, attempting to add warmth to myself. I let out a slow breath, letting my lips remain slightly parted as I allowed myself an attempt at slumber.

*****

Sunlight poured through my window, raining down onto my unprotected skin. As I became conscious once more, I let out a feeble groan, trying to bury my head into the pillow which somehow ended up on the floor, beneath my heightened position. I allowed my eye-lids to flutter open, only to harshly close them and twist my head from the window as light viscously attacked my eyes. Instead of letting myself have direct contact with the light just yet, I haphazardly opened my eyes and rubbed at them with the balls of my hands. I blinked several times, letting myself adjust once more to the morning light.

I kicked away the sheets which were tangled and bunched around my feet and hips, standing up from my previous position. I sleepily walked to the mirror which hung on the opposite wall of my room. I wiped the sleep from the comers of my pale green eyes, my dark eye-lashes fanning outwards. My deep brunette hair was slightly tangled, provided that a simple finger-combing would suffice. My lips formed a small pout as I let out a subtle sigh. I made my way from my room, tugging on the end of the grey sweatshirt I wore. My intentions were to hopefully check up on my mother. Her tone clearly alerting me she had been terribly upset with my father's attitude and monstrous words from the previous night.

I approached her door, turning the surprisingly unlocked knob, and pushed the door open. The lights within the large room were switched off, the bed untouched and clearly hadn't been slept in anytime recently. My eyes scanned the room, settling on the bathroom light spilling from underneath the connecting door. I sauntered to the door, tapping my knuckles agains the wood lightly.

When I heard no reply nor sound, I knocked once more. Water running wasn't present, nor was any other type of sound that would be audible to the ear. My actions became hectic as I continued to knock, only to end up wrenching the door open. As much as I was shocked the door was left unlocked, I was even more shocked to find my own mother slumped agains the bath-tub, no movement at all present.

Almost immediately, I dashed to her side, kneeling down beside her and taking her head in my hands. My heart-rate sped up immensely, a bitter smile taking over my features as her eyes opened slightly. Although, her eyes looked so distant, almost as if they were looking right through me. She lifted a hand, caressing my cheek to let me know that she was aware of my presence. She raised her hand more, brushing a stranding dark hair behind my ear.

I felt a sticky substance on my cheek when she removed her hand, reaching my own up to inspect the source. I ran my fingers over the substance, pulling them away only for my breath to hitch in my throat. Blood, my mother was bleeding. My eyes stared down at he hand, traveling to her wrist. A long, deep cut had embedded itself into her wrist, a broken vein very much obvious. Red blood was pouring from the wound, tears springing to my eyes.

"Mom...." I choke on my own words as I returned my gaze to her face.

Tears spilled from my eyes as I took in her glazed and unblinking eyes. They stared into the distance, unable to see me anymore. My fingers intertwined with hers, my lower lip trembling incredibly. My head was shaking as I sat on my knees beside her. I lifted my opposite hand to her neck, praying for some sign that she was still here, still with me. I let out a strangled sob as no sign could be found. I collapsed, my head lying against her stomach. I held my palms over her would, begging for the blood to stop. As if I had any sort of control over something that would not listen, that would not cooperate. My mind was spinning, my heart shattered into pieces.

"I need you, please don't leave me, mommy," I pleaded like a young child, blood beginning to spill from between my open fingers.

At the time, I was only 15, still too young to be without a mother. Especially with a father like my own. My breath refused to return to me, causing the room to spin. I shook my head slowly, tears running down my skin even though my eyes were shut. My stomach was churning, the walls feeling as if they were closing in on me, surrounding me. I was shaking harshly; I felt as if I could burst at any waking moment.

Blood stained my clothes, drying against the skin of my cheek, and wet my palms as I continued to press down on my mother's wrist even though I knew my efforts were futile. I knew I should be screaming, going insane, calling for help, anything but sitting here trying to coax the blood back into my mother's vein. However, this was all I was mentally able to do. Nothing was worth it anymore, nothing was easy. Nothing ever was, once you really observed it. This was always coming, as would my day.

(A/N: The warning at the beginning of this pertains to nearly the entire story, not just this part. If you are not comfortable with that, you do not have to read on. I do understand, and it is perfectly fine. Some of these types of things just are not...some people don't feel right reading about them, is what I mean. Now, personally, I do know what it is like to have horrible anxiety, social-anxiety, self-harm, and depression. As well as suicide. My cousin who shall not be named out of respect, committed suicide last year and it really bothered me, it still does. She helped me through everything, but she just couldn't handle her own situation so she decided to end it. I for one do not recommend suicide. Please, if you are experiencing severe depression, feel like harming yourself, or have suicidal thoughts...find help. Tell a trusted adult, friend, teacher, counselor...anyone. Just don't keep it to yourself.)