Insanity {H.styles}

Chapter 15

"your smile, your hair, your everything..." These six words still lingering in my mind.

I sat braiding my knotted, brown hair, trying to piece together who Gemma is and what connection Harry has with her. I think the only way to find out what Harry wants with me or what his plans are is to find out who Gemma is. She could be anybody though, his girlfriend, his friend, one of his previous victims perhaps?

Whoever she is, I can tell Harry feels a great deal of guilt about her. All of his nightmares and flashes from the past must mean something.

Harry is working day-shift today and will only be back around three in the afternoon. I have been trying to tell myself to act as though I did not hear a thing last night but I couldn't help but feel my cheeks burn at the thought of it.

'wow. So much for absolutely hating him...There is something seriously wrong with me. Your capturer made you blush Kylie, do you realise how insane you sound?' I told myself.

I began examining my swollen foot. If anything, it has gotten worse since yesterday. How will I do anything now that I can't even stand? I covered my gigantic purple foot with my blanket to try and keep it warm and laid back. I feel as though all I have been doing is sleeping my life away. It is all I do until Harry comes home from work.

I sighed. When Harry and I are on good terms I am going to ask him for a tennis ball or something. He could call it a birthday present seen as my sixteenth birthday is two months away.

I pulled the blanket over my face and allowed myself to drift off into unconsciousness...

The door opened and I could hear Harry walk into his bedroom. All of a sudden I felt the need to go to the bathroom after having to hold it in all day.

How do I get downstairs to the bathroom? I sat and waited for Harry to make a sound, I know I am going to have to ask him for help no matter how awkward I may feel. I heard his door open again and him sneeze.

I cleared my throat before calling for him, "Uh, Harry? Can you come up here for a minute, I need your help."

I heard him shift around a bit before making his way upstairs. He slowly opened the door, "Yeah?" He said, his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes immediately went to my foot and then to my eyes.

"Can you help me?" I said shyly, "I need the bathroom."

He turned his head and looked at his shoes, it appears that he feels just as awkward about this request as I do. "Okay." He said, opening the door wider and walking towards me.

He took off my blanket and put one arm around my back and the other hand underneath my knees. I winced as he picked me up. He took in a deep breath and began to make his way downstairs. My weight didn't seem to bother him at all. He carried me effortlessly down the wooden staircase and into his bathroom. He placed me on top of the sink.

"Do you need me to-"

"It's okay, I've got it." I quickly spoke.

He nodded, "I'll be outside." He said and closed the door. I lowered myself from the sink and hopped towards the toilet, now needing it even more desperately. My eyes began to water, my foot was excruciatingly painful. I managed to get the toilet just in time, the feeling of relief washing over me. I flushed and tried to stand. I wobbled back towards the sink, I wish my mother was here I would have taken her help in a heartbeat.

"Ouch, shit!" I yelped when I had put too much pressure onto my purple foot. I caught onto the edge of the sink before I could have fallen.

"Kylie," Harry's deep voice spoke from behind the door. "I can help you, don't feel afraid." He turned the doorknob slowly and came in. "Here." He mumbled, lifting me slightly and guiding me towards the front of the sink. I looked up into the rectangular shaped mirror on top of the sink and began washing my hands. The first thing I noticed in the mirror was the bruise on the side of my cheek. Harry was staring at the same thing I was, he had a pained expression on his face.

"Harry, it's fine-" I began, but he interrupted me.

"No, don't defend what I did." He said, furrowing his eyebrows even more. I shook my head, looking at the tap and closing it. I don't want to hear this from him, especially after what I heard him say last night.

I felt him place his hands on my hips and spin me around so that I was facing him. He took my hand, "I'm sorry." He said, his face only inches away from mine. His eyes began to wonder from my eyes to my lips. He took another step forward, eliminating all space between us.

His right hand was still grasping mine while the other travelled its way down my waist. My heart picked up speed. As inexperienced as I am, I have seen enough movies growing up to realise where this was going. I tilted my head up so that our noses were almost touching.

Our lips connected. My body tensed as Harry's lips moved roughly against mine. I let go of his hand, allowing mine to trace up his chest. I could feel his heart beating nearly as fast as mine. He placed his hands at the bottom of my thighs and picked me up. Our lips reconnected as my hands snaked around his neck. He placed me on top of the sink once again before tugging hard at my shirt. Harry let out a faint moan before ripping off my shirt and disregarding it on the bathroom floor. He did the same with his own shirt, revealing all of his tattoos. Our lips crashed together once again, Harry's hands lingering at my waist. I felt his warm tongue swipe across my bottom lip. I let out a soft moan which caught me by surprise and I pulled away.

Harry looked at me intently, curious as to why I stopped. We were both breathing heavily, our chests rising and falling simultaneously. His eyes had turned dark and lustful yet they still had a hint of innocence. We just stared at one another, Harry's eyes exploring my body. His fingers circled around every bruise down my arms, chest and stomach. He leaned in and gave me one last soft kiss before taking me off the sink and placing me on my feet. He then left the bathroom and came back with a white t-shirt. "Here." He said, still trying to catch his breath.

"Thanks." I responded. My mind was still racing, every part of me in denial of what just happened. I pulled the shirt over my head. It came up to my mid-thigh and covered my shorts. Harry was leaning against the shower door, staring at the ground and biting his bottom lip.

I never knew he was so into tattoos. He has one of a large butterfly just below his chest, a ship on his left arm, two fern leaves on his left and right hip and many others. He also had a silver chain hanging from his neck with a small paper plain hanging at the bottom. He smirked, letting out a small laugh and then I looked up at him. He noticed me staring.

"Let's go search for some food." He grinned, helping me walk out the bathroom and into the kitchen. It has only been nine months. He has hit me. He has made me cry myself to sleep. Yet I find myself attracted to the way he talks, smiles, walks, takes control, bites his lip and the way he remains to still be so mysterious.