Harry Styles Imagines

Short Story: 'Rose Harrison'

A/N: Hello everyone, this is a short story I had to write for my Matura paper. I changed the main protagonist's name to Harry for you. Hope you like it. <3

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'I should be home by midnight. Please, don't worry...' She sounded tired, almost as if she were already half asleep or had just woken up judging by the, for her otherwise atypical, hoarse voice. A small, barely audible sigh fell past her lips before she lowered them to sip on her coffee that she had made in a desperate attempt to keep her eyes open for another two hours. She really needed these two hours; she had so much to do.

'Midnight?' He asked in disbelief and with a hint of sadness in his voice. How could he not worry? 'Rose, you've been in that bloody office for sixteen hours—' He paused, knowing that he had just sworn and she didn't like that. But this time, he didn't apologise, he didn't have time. He knew that Rose would excuse herself soon enough to get back to work. 'You should just come home and finish whatever it is that you have to do later, I'm sure it can wait until tomorrow. I've got a day off tomorrow, too, I could help you.'

But it couldn't wait until tomorrow. Rose had always been bad at leaving things on the next day, and to leave work for a week or longer would surely kill her. That's why she had to stay and finish that 'whatever it was she had to do' that night. The caffeine had kicked in her blood stream fairly quickly, though, probably also on account of her eating barely anything the whole day, and Rose did indeed manage to do what she had planned. She was happy.

Once out of the building, Rose jumped in her car and drove off home. She was looking forward to taking a shower and cuddling next to her husband's side after a long, exhausting day. She knew she would be out like a light right after her head would hit the pillow, for there wasn't a person she would feel more safe with than with Harry, wherever it was.

'Whoa, whoa, whoa! Where're ya goin', pretty lady?'

Rose had parked in front of the block of flats her and Harry lived in, but when she saw the group of men standing at the entrance, almost as if their intention was to block it, she was cursing herself for having done so. She hastily locked the door and, clutching her keys tightly in her hand, Rose straightened her posture and pressed her lips together to appear confident and not at all scared of them. She made her way to the front door, ignoring their shouts and whistles, cursing her short skirt she had decided for in the morning and her high heels as well now. She should have really done the laundry.

'Please, let me in.'

'Hm... lemme think... No, I don't think you're going anywhere, sweet pea,' one of the man said, sneering. The others joined him. She could see them properly now—a small light was on above their heads. There were three of them; the one who was talking was tall and muscular, he had dark brown circles around his eyes, one was blond, curly haired, looking older than the other two who seemed to be in their mid-thirties. The last one had dark hair like the first one, only he was rather thin.

Rose was trying to escape now that she had fully realised that there was no way they were going to let her in, but she couldn't; they held her tight, each of their bodies pressing themselves on hers, not giving her the slightest chance to free herself. Rose's cries for help when the men started to touch her and whisper things to her ear no one would want to hear, were left unheard. Not even Harry could hear them.

Somehow, however, at the moment—although it all did feel like a single second, really—when two of the men left the front door to go and 'watch' on either side of the block, to make sure that nobody could see them and what they were doing to her, Rose used the opportunity and bit down onto the palm of the man with dark brown circles around his eyes who still had her in his grasp and had been covering her mouth the whole time, and sprinted over to her car. Luckily, she still had the keys in her hand. The men were trying to catch her; shouting after her and calling her names as if she were the one violating the law and not them. One of them had even cracked the window on the driver's side where Rose was now sat. Stepping on the gas with a loud squeal to let them know that she was ready to run them over, she managed to drive away.