Terrible Things (Harry Styles Love Story)

Chapter Eighteen

October...

The end of school came quickly. But then again, everything after lunch usually went fast. I met Harry outside, or I mean, that's what I planned to do. But on my way to the parking lot, I got pulled aside by a tree. What the hell? I looked to see who it was, and of course... it had to be Louis. OF COURSE.

Louis looked... um... better, I guess? I don't know how to explain it when you look better than before but you still look bad... "Before you freak out... I just want to talk," Louis said.

I have to admit. I was pretty surprised that he could actually talk... I mean, he just looked so beat up. His face looked like Harry's knuckles after the fight. "Okay."

"Are we... are we okay?" he asked hesitantly. I took in a breath, unsure of what to say. Like, really. What was I supposed to say? "I mean... do you still forgive me for what happened? I really did mean everything that I said..." he trailed off.

"Of course, I still forgive you. I'm not going to stay mad at you. I was never really ever mad at you... I kind of just.... didn't appreciate what you did," I explained.

He looked somewhat relieved. "So... are we okay...?" he asked, beginning to move his hand closer to mine.

I nodded. "We're fine." I didn't exactly want this conversation to be happening right now. But I didn't want to be mean.

Louis moved slightly closer to me and spoke again. I looked around to see Harry heading towards the entrace right before stopping, noticing Louis and me. His face became hard, and I watched as his fists balled at his sides. But quickly they unlenched. Harry walked up to us both and held my arm. It wasn't super tight, but it was tight enough for him to get my attention. Louis's eyes went from his hand to me to him and to me again, waiting for me to say something. But I didn't. I mean, what was I going to say.

Louis nodded at Harry. "Hey, man," he spoke in the English lingo with his British accent. It was kind of funny.

Harry's grip tightened on my arm, and it was almost beginning to hurt. I tugged on my arm as subtly as possible so that I could get his attnetion to tell him that he was hurting me. "Hey," Harry said before immediately turning to me. "So, um, we have to go," Harry said.

I furrowed my eyebrows but didn't argue. "Oh, okay..." I said, then I turned to Louis. "I'll see you around?" 

Louis nodded. "Definitely," he said with a crooked smile before Harry pulled me away. 

Harry pulled me away, and we walked to the car in silence. Once we got into the car, Harry gripped the steering wheel tightly - too tightly for me to be comfortable. Harry released his grip and ran his hand through his hair as if frustrated at everything around him.

"Harry," I spoke so softly that I could barely hear myself. And I silently prayed that he didn't hear me. But he did. 

Harry slammed his hand against the wheel, causing me to flinch. "What the fuck was that!?" he yelled, and I flinched at how loud his voice became. I was silent. "Why the hell were you talking to him? Do you not remember what the fuck his ass did to you? You almost had fucking sex with him that night due to a fucking bet. I fucking beat him up for you, Diana! And I thought that since we were together, you'd actually stay away from him. I thought you were smarter." Harry yelled at me. His voice was loud, and with each word, he grew louder.

I swallowed. "I was only talking to him... nothing was happening," I said in a very light voice. I didn't want to raise my voice at Harry because God knows what would happen.

Harry scoffed. "You don't know how his fucking game works, Diana. That's how it starts. He talks to you as if nothing happens, and you fall for it. He fucking disgusts me, and the worse part is is that you'd actually fall for it, and by the end of the month, he'd be in your pants," Harry spit out.

I sighed. Nodding, I finally realized it. That's all that Harry thinks of me... Okay... that's fine. I should've known that this was going to happen anyways. Harry put the key in and started up the car before driving. During the drive, I opened my mouth to talk several times. I tried to say things. I tried to talk to him, but every single time... nothing came out. And it was almost like I was afraid. But I wasn't afraid. Not of Harry, at least. Well, I didn't think so. I was afraid to talk.

We parked in my driveway, but none of us got out. "Are you coming in still?" I asked, still slightly scared to talk. 

Harry sighed. "Do you want me to?" I could tell that he was trying to keep his tone down and that he was doing his best to not be mad at me when he had every right to be. Because he was right - about everything.

But I didn't know what to say. Part of me was hoping that he wouldn't come in so that I could cut and purge and do whatever to get this crappy feeling out of my system. But the other half wanted him to come in because I always felt so right whenever he was next to me. "I don't care..." I trailed off.

Harry sighed. "I'll just um, pick you up tomorrow..." he trailed off.

Half heartedly, I died. "Okay," I said. I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow then..." I trailed off.

Harry tensed a little, but still, he did not look at me. He just looked straight ahead. 

I took his hand and squeezed it lightly. "I love you," I said in a hopeful voice. I wanted - no - I needed to hear his voice... his normal voice - the voice that made my heart swell up with love and joy. I needed to hear that voice now.

"Love you too," he said. Part of me wanted to smile, but the other half knew that he forced it. So instead of pushing it like I'd wanted to, I got out of the car and went inside me house.

Seconds, minutes, hours after I'd walked through the front door, I'd been pacing in my room, This whole damn time I'd been pacing, the anxiety just nawing at me. And finally I decided that I had to. I just had to do it. So I did. I went to my bedside drawer and grabbed yet another, non bloody, sharp, new blade. I took it, and as I always did, I twirled it between my fingers. And I gripped it tightly. I pressed it against my left wrist without hesitation and slid across, making a deep wound - deeper than I normally would. And the thing is that I didn't exactly know why I made it so deep. I just knew that the amount of pain I was feeling three seconds ago was gone. And I was content.