Psychotic (A Harry Styles Fanfiction)

Chapter 16

A.N. Hiii, I'm sooo sorry the chapter's kind of short and late but I spent the night at my cousins and couldn't upload it (they don't have wifi yet because they just moved). Plus I wasn't feeling well so I apologize in advance if this chapter isn't that great. Also THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR GETTING ME TO 100K I WANT TO MARRY ALL OF YOU (follow/talk to me on twitter @hrrygonkillme thanks ily)

CHAPTER 16

"You're innocent," I finally spoke. And as I said the words, I realized part of me had known it all along. But I didn't meet his gaze as I said it, instead staring down at my twiddling thumbs. I didn't want to look into his eyes, afraid of his response, afraid that I might be wrong.

"You really believe that?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. I nodded, still not moving my gaze from my lap.

"Rose, look at me," he softly pleaded. He placed slender fingers under my chin, gently lifting it so that my eyes were forced to meet his. They were so bright and such a beautiful deep green, holding an essence of reassurance. "You're right."

Those two words were spoken in a breathless sigh, as if a tremendous weight had just been lifted off of his broad shoulders. And it was in that relief that I could see it. I could see it in his growing smile, I could identify it in his forest green eyes, I could hear it in his gravely voice. He was telling the truth.

But that truth, although it was welcomed with great relief, brought on numerous questions. Why was Harry still imprisoned  in this awful place? What really happened to those women? Does Harry know who did it? Does Ms. Hellman know he's innocent?

The newfound clarity clouded my mind with incessant curiosities, leaving me wondering everything and anything about this new Harry, this innocent Harry that had been there all along but I had been too blind to see.

So instead I spoke words that would hopefully answer all of my numerous questions. "I think you owe me a story."

HARRY'S POV

Rose's small grin that formed along with her request made divulging the truth a necessity. I had to tell her what happened. And I wanted to. If anyone was going to know who I really was, it was going to be her.

"Okay," I sighed, inhaling a deep breath to prepare for the complex tale I was about to tell. I tossed my cigarette bud in the trash off to the side, not wanting the pauses for nicotine to make this take longer than it needed to be. "Well, let me start off by saying that I'm not some saint or anything. I was never a good kid, not by a long shot."

Rose nodded, a few dark strands of hair falling from her bun, her eyes alight with fascination.

"Actually this, uh . . . this isn't my first time in Wickendale," I said.

"What?" She asked. "What do you mean?"

"I've been here before. As a mental patient over in the kids Ward, used to be on the second floor I think. I was about twelve years old."

Rose's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What did you do?"

Even though I knew that question was inevitable, I dreaded answering it. But I was sick of keeping it to myself, it was about time I talked about the horrors of my past.

"Well, my father used to treat me and my mom like shit. He hit us and everything. So one night I saw him beating her, choking her even, and I was so fucking scared, Rose. I was angry, too, and I wanted him to feel worse pain than my mom had. I wanted him dead, I hated him more than anything else. So one night he was passed-out drunk on the couch, while my mom was out working late. And I grabbed some lighter fluid and matches . . ."