Breath

chapter 4-Must have known.

"London?!" I say my jaw dropping. he has to he joking.

"Yes London. Ebony, you can live with me for a month or two!"

"Harry.. I don't know..." I have no idea what to think. its not like he's my long term boyfriend.. but he is my bestfriend....

"think about it. you have a week."

a week. 1 week to take my life of order and preplanned future, and throw it into the wind letting it do with it what it will. this is more tempting then I thought.

***

"Ebony! come set the table!" my mum shouts from the kitchen. Harry and I sit on my bed catching up and playing cards.

"I would set the table if you come with me to london." he smirks and follows me downstairs.

my brother is drinking a beer in the kitchen, and my mom is finishing up the food, but I don't see my dad...

"where's dad?" I ask, but my question is answered once my mom turns to face me, a giant swollen hand mark is planted on her cheek.

"Oh my God! he did that?!" I'm almost yelling.

that bastard.

"Its fine Eb. just. please do the table."

tears brim her tired looking eyes, and her light brown hair pulled into a tight poney tail and she's wearing old ripped jeans. she looks worn out. instead of insisting I set the table like I'm told, harry close behind helping.

"careful eb. youre going to break the plate.." harry says, then I realise I'm nearily throwing them onto the table. why does my dad do this. why does he have to be so.. so. so what exactly? violent? careless? selfish?

"eb. come here." harry is standing front me holding a few empty cups and I realise I'm crying.

I let my head fall into harrys chest and he wraps his arms around me and running his hand over my hair. whenever I was stressed or  upset he would do this and it always calmed me down. another thing that hasn't changed. 

"I hate him. I hate him."I say, just barely a whisper.

"no you don't. you hate what he does. not him." harry whispers back. Is he right?

At dinner, a lot is needed to be said, but nothing is. Harry makes a few nice comments about dinner Robert gives us update on his new job, my mum not saying a word. I don't say anything either.

****

"lets get some ice cream." harry whispers his head poking up from the ground making me jump, forgetting he was there.

"harry. its 3 in the morning. go back to sleep." I mumble and role back over trying to get comfortable.

"pleeeaasee." he pleads.

maybe if I don't say anything , he'll go back to sleep.

"that isn't going to work this time." he says riping my blanket off me and when I look up he's standing next to my bed with his arms crossed.

I reluctantly get out of bed and follow the curly head boy down to the kitchen. we get out the ice cream bowls and spoons then sit on the living room couch with a soft lamp behimd me on.

I see the light reflect off harrys features and I smile. such a familiar face so...different.

interrupting my thoughts,  there is a huge bang at the front dkkr and my dad comes stumbiling in, raging and irate.

"Ebony?!" he shouts looking at me, stumbling and using the wall for balance. his gray hair a mess, and his suit ripped and all twisted.

"oh my god." this can't be happening.

"Ebony!" his voice booms again.

"harry. go to my room." I whisper.

"Ebony, youre such a fuck up." his voice roars with a laugh as he stumbles closer to me. I can smell the alcohol from feet away.

"harry go." I snap pushing him towards the stairs, my eyes burning and a lump in my throat.

"you've always dispointed me, and you jus-" he slurs the rest of his words making it hard to understand.

Harry grabs my wrist and drags me up the stairs into my room and closes the door behind us. I lean against the door, listening, waiting to hear my dads monstrous foot steps up the stairs. but they don't come. I fall down against the door to the floor with a sob. my fathers drunken words ringing in my brain.

"Ebony. you're such a fuck up."

"you've always disapointed me."

again and again.

my bodys shakes, and my shoulders heave up and down as I cry. I don't even realise harry holding me right away. we sit on the floor, He's holding my head into his shoulder, firm but gentle, our legs intertwined and his other arm petting my hair again.

God must have known I needed him here with me through this. He must have.