Break Me-A Harry Styles Fanfiction

Chapter 28-Word Vomit

I wake to a freezing bed, the frigid air from the outside dripping in through the window and slithering its way down my body, a shiver raking through my frame. Eyes heavy with exhaustion, barely open, and vision slightly blurry, I reach my tiny arms out, hands desperately searching for my main source of warmth, who's arms I feel at peace in; Harry. My fingers brush along the plushness of the pillows, the fluffy blankets, and the squishy mattress, but are unable to discover the sensation of Harry's hard yet gentle skin under my touch. His absence is plausible, for my body aches with need for him, cold skin urgent for his radiating heat, lips yearning for his own, eyes longing for his enchanting gaze.

Sitting up in bed, I blink rapidly, rubbing my sleep filled blue eyes in an attempt to shake the prominent exhaustion hanging heavily over my body and mind. I look around the room almost foreign to me, examining each and every object furnished throughout the small space; nose tingling slightly at the sensation of Harry's smell adorning the atmosphere. Though Harry's scent can be easily detected, Harry's current destination is unknown to me, and the lack of noise resting in his dorm arises unwanted questions within my brain.

As well as my curiosity, another query lingers in my mind, eating away at my sanity, and shattering the allusion of my satisfaction:

Why do I feel so alone?

I feel detached from everything around me, almost as though I am not truly here, merely watching my disconnected body from a bird's eye view. Drained of all emotion, my mind seems to be in overdrive, thoughts spinning and swirling through my already crowded mind, yet a heaviness rests on my chest; a lonely ache sits on my heart, slowly but surely swallowing the organ into a pit of darkness to be replaced by an eternal nothingness.

There should have been some sort of relief that accompanied my opening up to Harry, a weight lifted from my shoulders, a feeling of freedom or empowerment, or anything of that nature. However, I was greeted with the opposite reaction, the upbringing of my past only perpetuating my contest worry, and gruesome sadness, that, no matter how hard I try, cannot seem to release me.

So lost in thought, I hardly notice the creaking of the wooden door, the frame swinging open to reveal Harry. He is already dressed, and I begin to wonder the time, and if we'll have enough of it to get to class; though I am in no mood to sit in an uncomfortable chair for hours, while my teachers drag on about information that I couldn't care less about.
"Bella?" My thoughts are once again interrupted by Harry, and I look up from beneath my long lashes, blue meeting green, as a sigh of relief escapes my lips.
"I thought you'd left." I mumble, eyes darting down to anxiously fumble with my fingers.
"I did," Harry smiles "but then I came back. I always do." He reassures me, and I try my best to manage a smile. My emptiness discourages me from doing so, however, and my meek attempt is fake and forced, the sadness in my eyes still evident. Noticing my apparent dejection, Harry frowns a bit, but decides against calling me out on it.
"I got you breakfast." He informs me, holding out a paper bag and tray of coffee that both fit perfectly in his large hands. I hadn't even noticed that he'd carried them in, my absence from reality in no way aiding to my poor observatory skills.
"Thanks." I mutter, not bothering to tell Harry of my non existent appetite. He sets the food on the bed side table next to me, eyeing it every so often as I make no attempt in touching it.
"What time is it?" I ask, rubbing my eyes sleepily, as a yawn escapes my lips.
"Almost 9," Harry smirks slightly, awaiting my supposed enthusiastic reaction.
"What? We're missing class?" My voice is monotone, holding no evidence of emotion, too mentally and physically exhausted to display an honest reaction. Harry slumps down onto the bed, the mattress creating the perfect indent as his body plops down.
"I turned of your alarm, I figured you could use a day off." He shrugs nonchalantly. I mumble a thank you, once again attempting to force a painfully fake smile onto my lips.

My head falls back onto the pillow, and I want nothing more than to drown my thoughts in a heavy slumber. I urge myself into a sweetly delusional unconsciousness, but sleep never overtakes me. Instead, the cogs and ticks in my brain pump harder and faster than ever, working so diligently that I can feel a bolt coming loose, steam clouding and clogging my entire skull; soon enough the fog will become too thick, and once I am pulled into a deep sleep, I may never awaken.

The mattress squeaks as Harry mimics my actions, his head falling onto the pillow lying next to mine. His eyes bore into mine, brows furrowed together as he tries to read my emotion behind my expressive blue irises. What he doesn't know, however, is that he will be unsuccessful, for there is no emotion within me; I have been drained of all life.
Minutes pass while Harry continues to stare into my eyes, facial expression remaining neutral, but I can practically see the thoughts circulating throughout his brain.
Eventually, he speaks.
"Why did the skeleton go to the party alone?" Harry inquires in all seriousness. My brows immediately furrow in confusion, lips pursing slightly as I try to make sense of what I've just been asked. Instead of responding, I simply shrug my shoulders.
"Because he had no body to go with him!" He explains, dimples popping out as a grin emerges onto his cheeks. My lips curl up slightly, a feeble attempt at a smile playing on my face, as I look appreciatively into Harry's green eyes.
"What did one hat say to the other?" He excitedly asks me, features lighting up in a child-like, and adorable manner. Lips pressed tightly together to hold back the smile begging to be released, I shrug once more, awaiting the answer.
"'You stay here, I'll go on a head!'" I am unable to stifle the giggles erupting from the back of my throat, bursting from my lips like that of a flood breaking down a dam. A boyish cackle falls from Harry's mouth, pure happiness weaved into the sound.
"Why is there no gambling in Africa?" Harry grins, clenching his jaw to keep the laughs from tumbling through his layer of white teeth.
"I don't know." I admit, giggles already beginning to be released in anticipation.
"Too many cheetahs!" Harry bellows, and we both lose it; hysterical laughter sloppily breaking free, filling the air and intermingling as we hold onto each other for support. As our laughter dies down, I make an attempt in making Harry laugh.
"Why shouldn't you write with a broken pencil?" I smile, gleaming with enthusiasm. Harry smirks, a chuckle falling from his lips, as he sarcastically responds.
"I don't know." He mocks me, obviously already familiar with this joke.
"Because it's pointless!" I say, beaming, blue irises glimmering with newfound hope and rejuvenation. Harry laughs once more, but this time not out of humor, out of pity.
"That was awful!" He comments, poking at my nose with his forefinger.
"You're awful!" I retaliate, dramatically pretending to be obscenely surprised by his lack of humor.
"You're beautiful." Harry reciprocates, leading to a few moments of silence. A slight blush heats my cheeks, as Harry's forehead is pressed to my own, the infinite depths of Harry's emerald eyes at full display. A soft kiss is pressed to my full lips, my skin tingling at the contact.
Once Harry pulls away, his brow furrows, lips pulled together into a straight line.
"Bella," He begins, his tone of voice hardened drastically. "You know that I can't leave you on your own from now on, right?" I avert my gaze, embarrassed and ashamed at Harry's discovering of my self inflictions. I manage a meek nod in response. "And I'm going to have to tell your parents." My eyes shoot up, panic arising within me, my heart's pace increasing quickly.
"No! Please don't, Harry!" I plead, sitting up my from lying position, eyes focused on his. Harry shakes his head, his body following my actions, so that he sits leaning against the concrete wall.
"I can't just sit here and watch you hurt yourself!" He shouts at me, anger clouding his usually bright and vibrant irises. His features noticeably harden, jaw locking in place as he glares at me, eyes narrowing as I hold his stare. Ignoring my usual instinct to recoil, and feebly apologize for angering him, I feel a defensiveness building up within my chest, too prominent to ignore and push away.
"Then don't watch," I snap, eyes narrowing into slits. "I don't need your help!"
"Obviously you need help if you resort to cutting yourself!"
"Who are you to decide whether I need help or not?! I didn't ask for your help so stop pretending like you're some kind of savior!"
"God dammit, Bella!" He roars, his voice startling me. "If you'll stop being so fucking stubborn you'll realize that you're hurting everyone around you! Why can't you just accept the fact that I'm not going to allow you to cut anymore, and maybe show some appreciation!?" Frustration and fury bubble inside of my chest, combining into an unstoppable monster bursting out of my throat in an unreclaimable case of word vomit.
"Just because you couldn't save your sister doesn't mean that you can try and save me, okay?! I don't need your help! I'm not her, Harry! I'm not Gemma!" I scream at him, the accidental words tumbling from my lips in rage at an unstoppable pace. Harry is visibly wounded by my venomous words, eyes widening, mouth slightly agape. He composes himself quickly, however, features hardening once more, glaring at me hatefully. Immediately regretting my vile comparison, a deep sorrow creeps up into my heart; guilt instantly washing over me, as my blue eyes widen in surprise of my own abhorrent word choice.
"You're right," He spits, his voice low and harsh. I almost prefer his roaring shouts over his malevolent whispers, each word slicing my skin into microscopic pieces. "You don't need my help, or anyone's help. Keep isolating yourself, and pushing everyone away. I don't give a shit anymore, Bella." His statement sends shivers down my spine, shattering the remains of my anger, replacing the feelings by that of an overwhelming sadness.
"Harry, I didn't mean-" I begin, but am immediately cut off.
"Get out of my room." He hisses, all emotion seems to have vanished from his face, an uncontrollable anger seething within him.
"Harry, please, I-" I beg, tears welling up in my eyes, hating myself for releasing those harsh words that I did not mean. He shakes his head, not hearing any of my pathetic pleas.
"I said get out." He repeats lowly, his eyes so dark, they might as well be black. Tears rolls down my cheeks, dripping from my chin down onto Harry's t-shirt adorning my body. Too hurt, angry, and exhausted to protest, I simply nod. Reluctantly rising from the bed, and slipping on my shoes. The tension filled air is silent; so heavy that I feel it weighing heavily on me. As I walk towards the door, I take one last look at Harry, hoping that beneath his rage, he'll find it in him to forgive me, and tug me back into bed with him, holding me protectively in his arms. He has no such reaction, eyebrows raising as he silently urges me to leave. I sniffle, wiping the tears still falling from my eyes off of my cheeks, as I swing the door open, and walk out. Not once do I look back, and not once does Harry call my name.

~*~

"Hello?" I answer my phone, sighing to myself as I fall back onto my bed. Since this morning when Harry had kicked me out, I haven't left my room; spending the entirety of the afternoon crying to myself, pathetic desperation clouding all other emotion.

I feel terrible.

I hate myself for what I said to Harry, my anger had gotten the better of me, responding to Harry before my brain could catch up. His pained reaction replays in my brain, his emerald eyes draining of life, and happiness. Now, here I am, wallowing in pity and guilt, relentless tears spilling from my eyes whenever my brain reminds me of my accidental outburst.

"Hi Honey!" My mother's cheery voice chirps into the phone. "How are you?"
"Fine." I answer coldly, in no mood for small talk.
"You're still coming for Thanksgiving, right?" I release another sigh, wondering if I should let her know that I'd asked Harry to accompany us. Does he still plan on coming? Will he ever even speak to me again? Does he hate me? Consistent questions circulate throughout my brain, crashing and colliding with each other until the inside of my mind is nothing but a deteriorated war zone.
"Bella?" My mother's voice rings in my ear, breaking my messy thoughts, and reminding me that we're on the phone.
"Um," I stutter. "Actually I was wondering if I could bring a friend." I decide to tell her anyway, though I'm almost certain that Harry will refuse the standing offer.
"A friend? Of course!" My mother cries, far too enthusiastic by the thought of my friend. "What's her name?"
"Uh, well actually he's not really my friend," I say. "His name is Harry, and he's my boyfriend." The phone suddenly feels heavy, my mother's evident silence unnerving me.
"Boyfriend," She repeats, and I am unable to decipher the emotion behind her tone. "Bella, I-I'm not sure if I approve of you having a boyfriend. Don't you remember what happened last time?" She questions, and something shatters within my chest. An intense pressure collapses onto my heart; my insides swirl then plummet, feeling as though they will combust into nothingness at any given moment.
"Of course I remember, Mother," I seethe, squeezing my fists into tiny balls, my fingernails creating moon-shaped crevices in my skin, most likely drawing blood to the surface. My mother's ignorance ignites a buried anger to burn within me; bewildered by the fact that she believed that I'd forgotten the worst thing to ever happen to me.
"I'm sorry, but I can't say that I'm happy about you dating some guy. You don't have the eye for men that I do, and I bet he's exactly like Charlie."

The sound of his name is like the the explosion of a bomb, detonating inside of me, and emaciating all that lies in its way.

"I have to go." I breathe into the phone, quickly ending the call before my mother can protest. I jump up from my bead, the tiny room suddenly feeling far too cramped. I need air.
  Slipping on my sneakers, I sprint from my dorm, running wildly down the halls until I reach the freezing air of the outdoors. Classes are still in session, so I am free to roam the campus without the prying eyes of my peers. Feeling insane, and frustrated, I take off, jogging in a random direction. I need to get away from civilization. I need to collect myself.

Beyond the campus of my school lies the ungrounded territory of a forest; leaf-less trees sway aimlessly in the chilling breeze, soft coos and rustles of animals can be heard in the distance. Without a second thought, I enter, the ground crunching beneath my feet with each step I take.

As I walk, my mind goes into overdrive; countless thoughts spinning and swirling throughout my brain, colliding and contradicting each other. I feel a desire for my body to be worked as thoroughly as my mind, an uncomfortable antsy-ness overwhelming me.

So I run.

I run as fast as I can, ignoring the cold air slithering down into my lungs, pushing myself to go further, pumping my legs as fast as they'll allow. I run until I tire, stopping to eventually catch my breath, wheezing and panting uncontrollably, as my body shivers. My asthma kicks in, a burning sensation filling my throat with poison, and stinging me with each intake of breath.

"Bella," I freeze when I hear the whisper of someone's voice. Standing up straight, I whip my head around to catch the caller. There's no one there. I'm alone.

Feeling uneasy, I decide it best to make my way back to campus. Though I may be slightly confused as to which direction I came from, I'm certain I can detect the right path without much of a hassle. I turn back to the direction that I believe to be the correct way, and begin walking, the cold breeze finally catching up to me, snaking its way under my sweater, and freezing my entire figure.

"Bella," I hear the voice again, louder this time.
"Who's there?" I call, voice laced with fear, eyes wide. A silence creeps it's way into my surroundings, the forest eerily quiet. I gulp, increasing my pace, my rushed steps slightly befuddled.

I can see the outline of my large school buildings, the ending of the forest nearing. I release a sigh of relief, deeming the voices merely a figment of my imagination. I stand tall, walking hurriedly towards the gaps of the secluded area. Just about out of the forest, my name is called again.
"Bella," I freeze, the familiarity of the low voice reaching out, grabbing me by the throat, and squeezing. Tears brim my eyes, immediately making their decent down my cheeks in an overwhelming abundance. Slowly I turn, terrified of what I'll find.

Then, my eyes catch hold of the figure.

Less than 100 feet away, I see it.

Less than 100 feet away, I see him.

I see Charlie.

A/N

Hey guys! Sorry this chapter is kinda short, the next chapter will be longer, I promise! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, let me know what you think! :) xoxo