Broken

Chapter 21

I woke up with a migraine, Harry's arms wrapped around me. I couldn't remember most of the night before, but one thing stood clear in my mind.

Harry said he loved me.

His eyes flickered open, staring right into mine.

"You feeling better?" he asked, rubbing my forehead.

I groaned and nuzzled into him closer, tickling the bottom of my spine.

His words from last night kept ringing in my ears, how softly he said it,

"I don't like other guys touching you."

Then it all came back to me and I so wished it hadn't.

"I...I'm sorry about last night, I don't know what got into me," I lied.

"Don't lie to me Kristen," he said.

My eyes widened, how did he know?

"Something wasn't right, you were different."

I felt ashamed that I used alcohol to drown my sorrows instead of just talking to Harry. But I didn't want it to be true.

"My...my parents-"

"Don't ever call them that," he stopped me," they were never your parents."

A tear escaped from my eye, dripping onto his shoulder.

"But I so wanted them to be," I whispered.

"I know," he sighed.

"They...they're being released," I struggled.

"What? Why? No this... this can't be happening," he ranted.

He saw my tears and shook his head, pulling me back into his arms, "I'm sorry."

"I don't understand," I mumbled, my salty tears blocking my throat," why didn't they want me?"

"They couldn't see how amazing and cute you were," he said grinning, trying to cheer me up.

I laughed softly, but inside I just felt like throwing up and curling up in a ball in the corner of the room. I couldn't handle situations like this, no matter how much Harry flattered or kissed me. Vomit.

My body jerked and I quickly ran to the bathroom, retching over the toilet just in time. Harry followed close behind me, pulling my hair back from my face slowly.

How could he make me throwing up so sexual?

He rubbed my back, soothing me. I felt shaky as I washed my mouth out, Harry offering me chewing gum. I shook my head, I couldn't bear to have anything in my mouth.

"Trust me, you need it," he said, shoving it in the palm of my hand.

I chewed it reluctantly, but it surprisingly made me feel better.

We spent most of the day in my bed, a packet of paracetamol on the bedside table. Harry traced my spine, twirling my hair round his finger.

"I did mean what I said last night," he whispered, " I do love you."

I smiled and kissed his stomach, drawing the swallows on his chest with my finger.

"I love you too," I said softly.