Baby Doll (Harry Styles)

Chapter 23 - Crippled

"What?" His eyebrows pulled together.

"What do you want from me? Do you want to be with me?" The words tumbled out before I could filter them.

"Lia, it's complicated because-"

"I'm a Baby Doll." I completed for him. My eyes brimmed with disappointment, an uncontrollable mechanism.

"Don't say that." His thumb stroked my bottom lip.

"Because I was forced to become a prostitute." My emotions couldn't be contained any longer. Tears gushed out.

"Stop it, Thalia." Harry said firmly.  "You're not."

"But I am. I'm a whore being forced to give you all the pleasure you need." The excrutiating ache within me caused my voice to rise and fall in loudness. "I'm doing just that, aren't I? I've met your desires-"

"Stop it!" His voice was loud, terrifying. Frustration showed in his features, his eyes darkening as he watched me. Our breaths were ragged, mine coming and going faster than his.

I struggled to push myself out of our close proximity but he held me in place, pinning me down below him. My hands shook in Harry's grip. I shut my eyes tight, forcing the leftover tears to see their way out.

Whimpers and shrieks filled the room. Scared rage and a sense of hopelessness overtook me. I felt my heart pound against my ribcage as my head rebelliously moved from side to side. Harry's fingers were all over my face, caressing everywhere they touched to calm me down. "Lia, stop." He commanded, but I ignored him.

"Lia." Harry said again, cupping my face in his hands. I complied as I grew tired. My breath caused mishap in my dry throat, my chest rapidly rising and falling. I felt him kiss my closed lids, the pain inside me soothing a little as he did so. "Look at me." He whispered. "Please look at me."

"Thalia." He called in the lowest tone, tucking loose strands of hair behind my ears. I glanced up at him and noticed how desperate his eyes were as they searched for mine.

"I - I can see it." He murmured. "I can see how... sad you are." His thumb stroked my cheek in soft circles, drying the moisture on it.

"I - I want to help you, Lia." It was so unlike Harry to say these things but he sounded genuine.

"My mum's sick." My voice quivered as I spoke. "I need to see her."

"I guess we can have that arranged. But no one can know... for now." He said. "I won't ever hurt you, Lia. I want you to know that."

I nodded in response. I couldn't believe what just happened. I had let my guard down, I had broken down. Harry had seen me in my most vulnerable state and things between us wouldn't be the same anymore. But I needed an outlet. I needed someone to see how much of a mess I was, someone to understand how crippled and damaged I was inside.

"And it's okay to cry." It took me a while to notice that Harry had rolled off me. He had his back pressed against the head of the bed. I sat up, wiping beneath my eyes. He watched me as I did so before extending his hand. "Come here."


I gave him my hand and he slowly led me to rest my head on his chest. It was wrong and I knew it would bring pain afterwards but this was what I needed badly. I tried to push conflicting thoughts to the back of my mind.

"I don't want you to do anything stupid like... what you did the last time." He said, gently stroking my hair.

"I won't." I sniffed. "So you'll... let me see my mother." I brought up the topic again.

"Sure." I felt him whisper in my hair. He brought his hand over mine, softly running his thumb over my knuckles.

I wondered why he was doing this to me. It just didn't make sense, the pieces wouldn't come together. But I liked it. It surprised me how Harry had made me feel so calm and secure in such a short amount of time. But it hurt knowing these feelings were one-sided. He didn't feel the same way about me and nothing could hurt more.

I was completely clueless when it came to things like this. I didn't know how it all worked but I came to the conclusion that Harry pitied me. He offered me comfort merely because he pitied me. To think that a guy like him would have feelings for a girl like me was stupid.

"Speaking of mothers, do you want to know about mine?"

I understood that his mother meant the whole world to him but I found it odd how he wanted to tell me about her at a time like this. Frankly, I didn't want to hear about how glamorous her life was while I worried about how bad my mother's was turning out to be.

But I answered him with a simple nod. I'd rather spend the remainder of the day listening to a harmless story than be left alone with depressing thoughts. And I was glad he didn't decide to continue the conversation we were having before I broke out into tears. I wouldn't be able to handle it.

"Well, my mum got hitched to my dad when she was only eighteen." He began. I decided that I'd just listen to his voice and fall asleep in his arms.

"I don't think they were in love because I've never heard either of them acknowledge it. They split up shortly after I was born and I went to live with my mum. You know that, right?" He said and I nodded. I moved myself further up, dragging my hand along his torso as I made myself more comfortable.

"Well she went out a lot, mainly because of work. But the funny thing was, she only went out at night and would only come home in the morning. My friends in school thought it was weird. They said their mummies and daddies would never leave them at home alone, especially not at night."

"You were left alone at home? How old were you?" Harry's story piqued my interest and I found myself intently listening to his next words.

"I was about 8 or 9. We couldn't afford a baby sitter or anything." He answered. "Anyway, so whenever I asked her about it, she would say she had to work real hard so I can stay in school. And my dad didn't look back at us once. But she never bad mouthed him, she only said he had his own things to do." I was curious to know where he was getting at.

"So life went on but one day, this dude comes banging on our door and my mum tells me to go to my room. I pretend to but I actually hide behind a sofa. I wanted to know what was going on. So she opens the door and this big guy starts yelling at her. I remember him saying things like 'I paid for more than this' and 'I'm not satisfied'. But she gets rid of him by leaving with him." He paused and I sat up on the bed, giving him a questioning look.

"Your mum..." I trailed off.

He nodded. "My mum was a Baby Doll, Lia."

"But they weren't called Baby Dolls or given any stupid names then. They were just... prostitutes." His face twisted in digust at his own words.