Why don't we go there? - Harry Styles fanfic

Chapter 7.

I tried to figure out the reason why I was singing in class without thinking of it. From what my mind could recall I had been sitting in my corner with a guitar in my lap strumming the chords thinking about the early years, when everything was still good, before hell broke loose. Somehow Harry made his way into my mind and next thing I know twenty-five pairs of eyes was starring at me. It made me feel uncomfortable so I stood up and excused myself before heading to the bathroom. As I leaned over a sink looking at myself in the mirror, the door opened and Perrie stepped inside.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Good,” I said shrugging. I felt like crying my eyes out. Why, I didn’t really know.

“I know it’s hard.” She was now standing beside me leaning against the sink next to mine. I opened my mouth to protest, because how could she possibly know? But before a word left my mouth, Perrie spoke up again.

“Well, technically I don’t know. But Zayn mentioned you’ve got a lot of baggage. He hasn’t told me any specific details and before you get mad with him, it was only so that I wouldn’t bring up anything to make you feel uncomfortable or sad or mad. And he only told me, so you don’t have to worry about the others,” Perrie explained with a warm smile.

“It’s not that easy…” I said in a small voice looking away from her blue eyes. “It’s just that when I sing it’s a reminder of bad times.” I was embarrassed of myself by now.

“Look. All I’m saying is that eventhough singing remembers you of bad times and things you’d probably want to forget, maybe you can make sining a good thing again? I know you can’t change the past, but maybe it will help if you sing. I don’t know what bad things happened to you, but I know that it’s not worth throwing away singin because of it, because I can tell how much you love it, not when you can use it to get over it, and make it into something beautiful again.” She said matter of factly.

On my way home later that day I thought about what Perrie said in the ladies room. Maybe she was right? Maybe singing would make it easier. Didn’t they say that to get over a fear the best thing to do is to expose yourself to it repeatedly? Maybe that is what I will have to do. But not right now. This is going to take time and this show is only a small step on the way.

_________

“You’ll always be worthless. You know that right?” he said sternly. I bowed my head down over my plate.

“I know father,” I mumbled.

“What’s that?” He said glaring at me.

“I know father,” I said in a clearer voice.

“Good.” He said pleased with my answer. “Now, make yourself useful and clean up here.” I rose from my chair and started picking up the plates from the table bringing them to the kitchen.

“Honey, you don’t have to do that,” mother said putting a hand on my arm stopping me from leaving the dining room.

“Anna,” he said strictly. Mother slowly let go of my arm giving me an apologetic glance before turning to my father again. When I left the dining room I could hear them talking.

“You know she has to do that. She has to learn Anna. She has to become a better woman, pleasing her man. Not a farm kid like you.” I could imagine the look Anna wore on her face when he said that, eventhough I couldn’t see her.

“What are you doing?” I froze when I heard his voice coming from the doorway.

“Homework.” I stated without letting my eyes leave the book lying in front of me.

“Why are you up here studying instead of down stairs making yourself useful?” He was closer now.

“To get good grades. I want to go to a good college.”

“Do you really think you will become anything?” He snorted and I could feel his cold presence behind my back.

“Marcus said-“ I started before he cut me off with another snort.

“Marcus? Do you belive everything that boy tells you? Do you really belive you’ll become something? That you are worth something? That you are loved? What a joke!”

I felt my self shrink during his nasty words. “Let me tell you something, but first get up.”

I could only oblige to his words. Soon I was standing in front of him looking down at my feet.

“Look at me,” he spat. I snapped my head up fast and met his ice cold eyes with my scared ones.

“Are you scared, baby doll?” His voice sent shivers down my spine.

“Don’t call me that,” I said quietly.

“Excuse me?” he said. The first punch arrived seconds later making me bend over coughing loudly.

“Stand up. Be a proud woman, pleasing your father.”

I tried to stand up tall, but the pain in my stomach made me hunch over.

“You are a shame to this familly.” The next punch. “You’re a disgrace.” A slap to the face. “Not even God loves you.” A bleeding nose. “That boy of yours is just the same.” Another punch. “Only causing trouble.” A slap on my left cheek. “Imagine how good you’d be if it wasn’t for him.” A pull in my hair forcing me to meet his gaze. “You disgust me.” One last punch making me fall to the ground, tears streaming down my face.

I was still laying on the floor when Anna sneaked in to my room.

“Oh honey,” her voice broke as she saw what her husband had done to her daughter, though this wasn’t the first time. “It will be alright. Soon everything will be okay. I’m almost done saving. Soon we’ll leave this hell hole.”

“What about Marcus? I can’t just leave him. He needs me,” I whispered, my tears staining her blouse.

“I know love. We’ll work something out,” Anna whispered safely in my ear. Moments like these were the only securing I had in the house I once called my home, when my mother hugged me tight whisping promises in my ear. Until my father woke up and all hell broke loose again and again.

_________

3.15 am. My mother had taken a night shift at her new job. It took three rings before he answered the phone.

“Hello?” his sleepy voice called through the line.

“Zaynie?” I said in a small voice, cracking from the tears threatening to break through. “I need you.” I heard shuffling through the phone before his voice spoke up again “I’ll be there in a minuter, love,” before hanging up. Ten minutes later I heard the front door open and close. He must’ve used the extra key we hide in the pot on the stairs. I was still laying under my covers, my body covered in cold sweat and the pillow wet from tears, when I heard the door to my bedroom open. Soon I felt the bed shift under Zayns body weight. He crawled under the covers next to me wrapping an arm around my waist bringing me to his chest. He was only wearing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Probably the shirt he wore the day before.

“It’s okay, love,” He murmured in my ear. “I’m here now. Nothing’s going to happen. Ssshh.” I let the tears flow down my cheeks, soak into Zayns t-shirt. His hand rubbed my back in soothing movements like so many times before. “He’s not going to touch you ever again. Not as long as I’m here. I promise. I love you, okay? Remember that, you are loved, no matter what.”

“I love you too. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For everything.”