Feel Again (A Larry Stylinson Fanfic)

Chapter 2 <3

Desiree's POV

Carefully shutting the door, I shuffled out of my worn brown boots and floated up the stairs to the room on the right. I grabbed my favorite pair of deep blue jean shorts, a coral lace bra, and an old 'hipsta please' t-shirt from my closet and skipped across the hall to the frigid glass-tiled bathroom. I quickly stripped from my clothes and turned the handle as the water heated up. I step in just as the lights suddenly shut off.

"Gahhhh!" I screech, hurling myself out of the water. Blindly, I grab a towel and slowly head down the staircase, feeling in front of me for any unexpeected turns.

Shaking from the crisp temperature, I rummage around for a match or something useful, finally feeling a partially used 'Island Paradise' candle. This will have to do.

Candle in hand, I strike a match and ignite the fruity smelling wick, then hury back up to the shower.

'Harry is back, back again. Harry is back, tell a friend.' I grin at my clever remark and send the text message to Louis Tomlinson, Harry's old best friend from primary scchool, leaving my phone on the counter. He would probably like to know this.

I bound down the staircase to the the kitchen, after not eating all day. I find a flashlight handy and forage through the fridge to find a tub of Fage Greek Yogurt. Reaching in a cabinet, I pull out a honey jar and a bowl to scoup the yogurt into. I glance over at the clock reading 8:42, when I hear a tap at the window.

Its probably just a brance being tossed around in the storm, I think, when it comes again. I tentatively tip toe over to the window and see three dark figures standing out in the pouring rain. I make the decision to open the window. Might as well see what they want.

"Took you long enough" a rough voice calls.

"Harry?" I warily reply. My face pales as I realize: That was not Harry's voice.

"Des, don't listen to them-" Harry starts to yell but is abruptly cut off by a guy wearing a black ski mask, gripping him in a choke hold.

"Hi Desiree. Why don't you come down here and I'll let your precious Harry go. Ok?" The other black hooded figure says mockingly.

I almost forgot about Harry's baggage.

I rush to pull on the first sweatshirt I see and slip out into the darkness around the house, to where the figures were.

"Harry?" I call again. The rain batters my face, making me shiver. Why do I even bother? This is only gonna hurt more after.

"Over here baby," A voice replies that was definitely not Harry's.

Suddenly, someone snatches a hold of my sweatshirt and forces me into their chest.

I hear Harry struggle with one of the attackers and suddenly he speaks in a rough hushed tone up against me.

"Des- Don't listen to anything they tell you they just want to hurt you. Don't trust them no matter how charismatic they may seem. They are bad. Im not sure-" Harry rushes into my ear, his sweet sent filling my nose, until someone rips him away from me. Then they punch him, Im not sure how hard, but hard enough to send him stumbling to the ground.

"HARRY!" I scream, tears beginning to rush down my face.

"You think your funny mate?" The first hooded figure say sarcastically." Grab the girl Brandon. Lets get out of here,"

The other figure, who must've been Brandon, grabs me by the waist and hauls me over his shoulder. I try to fight him off but he is too strong.

"HARRY! HARRY HELP ME! HELP!" I scream but there's no point. Im going to be kidnapped.

Harry's POV

Waking up in the field next to Desiree's house, I'm confused as all hell. I hadn't been there in 7 months at least.

Suddenly it all rushes back to me: 1.) Wes and Brandon found me walking back home, needing revenge for what I did to them. 2.) Beating the shit out of me, they forced the name of only person I care about out of me, and took me to her house. 3.) They forced me to call her down.

Now god only knows what they're doing to her. It makes me sick to think that they are probably going to rape her in their shit hole of a rental flat.

Hurting her.

My Des.

Spitting out my gag and ripping the duct tape off of my hands, I slowly get up from the ground, examining the welt on the side of my skull. Jesus.

That thug Brandon, that Wes always hangs around, sure knows how to hit a man. Or more like a girl. Everyone knows that they abuse the poor naïve girls that fall under their charm. I was just the only one unfortunate enough to witness it. I remember I was at a party thrown by a guy called Greg. I didn't know him too well but everyone I knew was going so I thought I might as well make an appearance. It was sometime late at night and most of us were severely drunk, but Wes, Brandon, and some other lowlife I cant recall the name of knew exactly what they were doing. They would seduce the poor drunken girls into their cars, rape and beat them, dumping them in a park or somewhere hidden the next morning. I thought that it was only a 1 time thing, so I decided not to get involved. But when I saw them come back and do it again, I called the police. I guess they found enough evidance to prove them guilty, so therefore they were sent to jail for 6 months. Now they've come after anyone who saw them and hurt them in any way they can.

For me, physical pain I can endure, but if someone is to touch my mum or Des, I'll crumble like a stale biscuit.

I find my way down the cold dark street, remembering the once worn path that I used to jog down to get here. It took me a minute to figure out where I was going so I pulled out my phone and dialed the number for a cab. I didn't even notice until I was halfway to the address that this was the first time I've been in an automobile since the accident.

This is no time to freak out. I just need to get to Des.