Diana

Chapter Nine: "The Kiss"

Styles, Mr. StylChapter Nine “The Kiss”

I’m done cutting my arms, blood bleeding continuously. I don’t know how hurt I am, I don’t know if I can be fixed. I march going to the front door, swinging the door open, as I went outside—I closed the door and walk at the sidewalk, I didn’t care how much it hurts and how much it bleeds. I just want them to explain them that they never heard how hurt I am before, they hated me but they didn’t know me at first. No one defended me, I know you’re questioning that Shayne could defend me but she is just changing the topic. She’s just telling that it’s all right despite the fact it isn’t; yes I know that she builds my confidence. But her help isn’t enough.

No one can change me because I’m like this permanently, despite how much they’ll try to change me; I know that nothing will happen. Since Dave ruined me, there’s nothing that can change. We can’t change the past, simply because it’s done. Even though how whatever you do, you can’t change the past. If it’s done it’s done, we can’t do everything about it.

I was at the park—sitting down on a bench as the blood staining the thin fabric of my black shirt. All of the people around me were staring at me, especially the press. They were only a few of them but I know it’ll be many. I don’t know what they will think of me, was I too stupid? Hopefully no. Because I just want to let them know that I’m not all right. They should know who I am than judging or making fun of me. They should know that.

“Are you all right, Mrs. Hernandez?” A woman asked. “Why did you cut yourself? Is everything all right? How are you with Harry? Are you and Harry happy for your relationship? Can you face the hate between the fans?” She questions, curiously. For the last time, we aren’t in a relationship!

 

“I’m all right.” I mumbled and nod my head. “Just stay away from me!” I yelled at them and suddenly sobbed. I put my hands to my face, covering my tears. I know they will think that I’m an attention seeker. The press suddenly crowd around me, asking me lots of questions that make me frustrated. I covered my ears and continued crying. Whatever I do, nothing happens. They still ask questions that frustrate me. Suddenly, a raspy British accent yelled at them to stop. I lift my head up as Harry’s eyes are on mine.

Once all of my surroundings are clean, Harry kneels right in front of me—cleaning the tears that I’ve cost earlier. I heard him gasp at my cuts. “Why did you do this, Diana?” Harry asks. “What did I tell you about cutting yourself?”

“Stay away from me, Harry.” I demand. “You’re going to hurt me again.”

“I won’t hurt you, I promise.” He tells me.

“Get away from me!!” I commanded as he stands up and takes a step backward. “I don’t need you so you don’t need to go here and defend me.”

“Well, you were crying when the press is mobbing you and I don’t want you mobbed.” He explains.

“Thanks.” I shrug my shoulders. “I should be going now.”

I drag myself up and walk out in front of Harry; he suddenly grabs my hand and smirks. “Where are you going?” He asks curiously.