Married To A Styles | H.S +UNDER EDITING+

Cravings

I wake up in the middle of the night, instinctively looking to Harry's side of the bed.

He's not here.

It's 2AM and he's supposed to be at the studio. I grab my phone from the nightstand, shooting him a text and asking what he's up to.

I'm hungry, but I don't want to get up. We got back from the funeral early.

My mother was there, as expected, and she despises me now.

FLASHBACK

Harry and I walk through the door. Harry's carrying Darcy on his hip and I have his hand in mine.

"Mia!" Mark greets.

"Oh, my gosh!" I smile, walking up to him with Harry behind me. "I didn't expect you to be here!"

"Yeah, nobody did. It's so horrible what happened, isn't it?" He asks and I nod.

In a way, even though he is way younger than me and we aren't real close, I look up to my little brother.

Me and Mandi got into a bad life. I would've been dead if the boys didn't show up that night. Mark has never done stuff like that.

That I know of, at least.

He's so perfect. But both me nor Mandi weren't around to put a bad influence on him. We thought Mandi was dead and I was in rehab.

And I feel comfortable with letting him babysit Darcy and leave him without worry that either death, suicide, anxiety, or any shit like that comes up.

He's...

Normal.. Haha.

"You have a lot of nerve showing up." A voice snaps from behind me.

I turn around, seeing my mother standing there with her arms crossed.

"I would say the same for you." I remark.

"I'm not the one that killed her." She smirks.

Are you serious? What the hell?

I walk towards her, Harry watching my every move.

When I get dead beat angry, I become a smart ass, a bitch and I might throw a few punches. And Harry knows that.

"You were the one that raised her. We were close. She ran away because of you, Monica." I growl, using her name.

She doesn't even have the right to get called mom.

Let's just say that when Darcy and Harry went to the bathroom, things got ugly.

When Harry came back, Mark took Darcy while Harry pried me off of my mother. My makeup was running because I was crying so hard.

I heave myself off the bed, wrapping my blanket around me, grabbing my phone, and walking downstairs.

Checking my phone to see if Harry responded, I make my way to the kitchen.

I'm really craving Dill Pickles. Along side with a few cups of pickle juice. Haha.

I make my way to the fridge, opening the door in a search for them. Nope.

Ugh.

Just my luck.

I settle for a glass of Apple Juice and sit at the island.

A box sits there.

After going through the pictures in the attic, we put the ones that we want to keep in a box to hang on the wall or put in an album later on.