Protector ~ H.S

~Chapter Fourteen~

As I sat down beside Harry at the end of my bed, a nasty chill suddenly shot down my spine; making me gasp & shiver and urging me to take a long sip of the hot tea Harry had made for me.

"Tilt your head back," he told me as he picked up the towel that was wrapped around my shoulders.

I put down the teacup slowly and did as he said; and he began to use the towel to rigorously dry my hair - unintentionally pulling at it a little which still made me wince in pain.

He wasn't very happy at all. I don't know whether it was because he was mad at me for trying to drown myself, or if he was still recovering from the shock of walking in on me drowning myself. Or both.

I still don't know why he tried so hard to save me. What urged him to pull me out of that bathtub and resuscitate me. I was so sure that I'd dunked myself in there long enough to be beyond saving. I guess not.

"Why are you mad?" I asked him quietly.

"I'm not mad, Angélique," he promised me, "I just...I can't believe..." his voice trailed away, and he seemed to quickly shake it off before he continued to dry me off.

"You can't believe I tried to do that to myself," I finished for him; lowering my eyes.

"Well, to be honest, yes," he sighed and shook his head in disbelief, "but can you blame me? I mean fuck, Ange...I thought I'd lost you," his voice turned a little shaky, "and I can't stand the very idea of losing you."

"Why not?" I asked.

He was silent for a long time; sighing again and clearing his throat before speaking.

"Why did you even do it, Ange?" He asked me softly - changing the subject somewhat deliberately, "Why would you even try? What happened?"

Oh God. Here we go.

I looked at him and took a deep breath before speaking.

"I...came to school," I began with a nervous bite of my lip, "but I was late. And...while I was getting my books out of my locker...Jackson came to me. He was...really angry..."

"I knew it," Harry said under his breath; his face darkening a little, "I fucking knew it."

"He accused me of having sex with you on Friday night, and calling me all these horrible things like 'slut' and 'tramp'. And then..." I felt my bottom lip tremble as I recalled what he did next.

"And then...what?" Harry sounded angry yet slightly nervous, "What the fuck did he do to you?"

"He..." I forced myself to swallow the lump in my throat, "he...smacked me down, onto the ground...and he grabbed me by my hair, and kissed me."

"What?!" Harry stood up angrily, "The fuck he did!"

"I-I tried to stop him, Harry..." I whimpered, "b-but he was too strong...he was forcing me..." I let out a little sob, "I hated it, Harry! I hated what he did, and I hate him! And after he walked away, I knew I'd had enough. I knew what I had to do to end my suffering. Because after what he did, Jackson Morris will be haunting me for the rest of my fucking life! Even when we leave school, even if I never see him again, he's already left his permanent scar. And I didn't want to live with that, Harry. I...I couldn't," I felt more tears beginning to slip from my eyes, "so, I saw that there was only one thing I could do, if I didn't want to be tormented by him anymore..."

I looked down at my sweater sleeve and began to roll it up; revealing the red, angry cuts on the underside of my arm. And as soon as Harry's eyes fell on them, I heard his breath hitch.