Fire (A Harry Styles Fan Fiction)

Chapter 11

“Harry, hurry up!” I shouted from outside the open door. Harry and I had planned on walking down to the lake and having a picnic, a little jolly but…oh well. I heard Harry’s footsteps come trotting through my living room; he poked his head out the door, along with a cheeky smile.

“Come on, it’s freezing!” I said, giggling the whole time. He jumped down the two steps that connected my path to the base of the front door, swivelled around and locked up. He was wearing his black military coat; his dark brown curls were pulled back in a green beanie. We walked down the path side by side, he stroked his hand on the side of mine, trying to entwine our fingers, but my hands were so cold I could barely feel them.

“Love, what’s wrong?” He asked, his eyes focusing on my face. The wind whipped around us, blowing hair around my eyes. Its touch was bitter and icy, sending chills down my spine.

“I’m just really cold…why is it so cold?” I asked, my bottom lip trembling against the chilly air. Harry slid off his beanie, along with his gloves and scarf, wrapping each one around the necessary parts of my body. I had no option but to accept, his hands held mine in a fixed position and his actions were so quick I had no time to argue.

“Thanks.” I said, giving him the broadest smile my frozen muscles would allow me. His hair was dishevelled and whipping against his forehead in scruffy curls. I felt bad, wearing all of his kit, I threw my arms around him, trying to offer him some of the warmth he had provided me with. He replied by lowering his chin on to the top of my head, our footsteps ceased as we stood, wrapped in each other embrace in the middle of the road.

“You don’t even know how perfect you are.” He whispered to me. His words took me by surprise; I was becoming more accustomed to his spontaneous compliments, but still. I released him from my grip, stepping back and wondering if he was sincere. I lowered my gaze to the ground, aware that I wasn’t at all that pretty. Harry placed his hand on my chin, pulling my face up to meet his gaze, his eyes scanning the doubt that riddled mine. He looked confused, almost angry. His lips were pursed together as his thoughts became apparent. He’d seen it. He’d seen my past. A past that I dare not think of. He swallowed hard and looked away, his hand remaining on my face. He looked back up at me with gritted teeth.

“What happened?” He asked, skipping over the unnecessary questions I felt he already knew the answer to. I clenched my eyes shut; the muscles throughout my body became tighter. I stared at him, with eyes that begged him not to ask, not to know my past. He moved his hand from my chin, clenching the fabric of my shirt instead, pulling me closer to his face.

“What happened Violet?!” He said again. This time there was an undeniable element of anger in his voice, an irrefutable danger in his tone. My eyes stayed shut, hoping to escape this moment, to be in a happier place. My mind flashed back to my past, to my hell.

*****FLASHBACK*****

“Mum, what’s wrong?” I asked. Her luscious brown hair fell in greasy locks around her face, her skin was dirty and blemished and her eyes were drained of the beautiful blue they once encompassed. Her mouth hung open in a daze, she was gone. There was nothing left of the woman I knew. She sat on a chair in the centre of the kitchen, her eyes focused on the black and white tiles below. She didn’t reply to me, her face never moved.

“Oi, what the fuck are you doing here you little shit.” I turned around in a panicked rush and saw the tall lean figure of Caleb. He approached me slowly, a drunken slur in his words and footsteps, a Jack Daniels bottle clenched in his left palm which confirmed his inebriated state. I looked at him in anger, knowing that my mother’s condition was purely down to him. I stood in front of my mother, protecting her back from the clutches of my boyfriend.

“You stay the fuck away from her, I swear to God.” I said, a shake in my voice, knocking my desired tone of authority. Caleb raised his ratty eyebrows, a look of surprise plastered on his disgusting face. A smile soon replaced it, an evil smile. He moved ever closer, his pace becoming quicker, I could tell what was about to happen, and I was prepared. I felt nothing but an instinct to protect the woman behind me, to protect what was left of my broken mother. I took the few steps between us to close the gap, his body was close to mine, and although he was tall, he was thin, weak, and sickly. I drove my shoulder into his stomach, launching him backwards but not quite knocking him off his feet, he curled over gripping his wounded torso and screaming profanities at me.

He threw his bottle of Jack Daniels on the floor, breaking it into several big shards. He ran towards me at a surprisingly fast pace, pulling back his fist and punching me in the side of the head. The blow almost knocked me unconscious, but the overwhelming impulse to protect my mother drove me on, and I pulled my limp body off of the floor. He was behind me, his tall frame casting a grey shadow over me. He picked me up, along with a shard of the broken whiskey bottle and cut down the side of my body, the wound was deep and I felt the warm pool of blood stain my shirt. I screamed out in pain, which made Caleb throw me to the ground, leaving my mother, and I almost dead in the middle of a kitchen. In the place where I thought I would die, where a part of me did.

*****END OF FLASHBACK*****

“Violet, no!” I heard a voice shout out, before feeling a strong arm wrap itself around my waist. The sensation of falling pulled me from my destructive thoughts and I returned to reality. Harry was standing above me, panic on his face. The sky consumed the majority of my vision; I was on the floor, looking up. Harry’s hand cradled the back of my head and protected it from the icy touch of the tarmac below me. He was breathing heavily, concern in his eyes as he looked down on me. He searched over my body, and that’s when I felt my hand grabbing the left side of my torso, the scar that Harry had obviously missed while undressing me the night before. I prayed he wouldn’t notice as I pulled my hand away from the disfigurement. He did.

His face turned to one of anguish and sorrow…but most of all, one of unimaginable anger and torment. He placed his hand on the spot where mine had previously rested. I impulsively flinched at his touch at the sensitive spot. As I did, Harry’s eyes closed in recognition, he knew, he didn’t have to look. He knew. He screwed his eyes closed and shook his head while crouched over me.

“Who did this?” He asked, trying to contain his anger. I didn’t reply. Shock had frozen me, the fact that my secret had come to light. He refused to open his eyes until I spoke, his lips were pursed and his eyebrows were rutted. I knew that this conversation was unavoidable. I knew it was inevitable.

“Caleb.” I said. “It was Caleb.” My eyes filled with tears as the memories of a different life flooded back to me. It was my fault that happened to my mother, it was my fault she’d left. Because I fell in love with the wrong person…I’d fallen in love with a dangerous man. As these thoughts reached me, I stared up at Harry…the man who so many feared. I looked at him with hatred, knowing that he was just another Caleb. I wriggled out of his grasp, planting my hands on the stone cold floor. I moved backwards, scrambling to my feet and sprinting on an adrenaline rush as far away from Harry as my legs would carry me. I promised myself, I wouldn’t fall in love with him. I wouldn’t lose anyone else.