Collide // Harry Styles

Chapter 8. Stranger

Chapter 8. Stranger

Ava's POV.

                There is a difference between giving up and, and knowing when you have had enough. I guess I was just defeated by my conscience, stabbing me with all the things that could possibly stop me from trying, trying to hold onto this hope; that's stored between my head and heart. I get confused sometimes, whether or not I should follow what I think is right, and what I feel is right. 

I think that whatever happens tonight, happens. And it was my reckless decision to take a leap of faith, either landing on both of my feet, or falling into a black hole until the sun shines on me no more. But I'm hesitant, always. Therefore I feel that giving up wasn't the answer. Because if I did, I would have to think of a reason why I held on for so long. And I couldn't possibly think of any. 

"W-who are you?" I ask faintly as the person quickly carried me out of the bathroom in a bridal style. My drouziness from crying was affecting whatever was happening, I could only feel my body being in contact with someone else's. Seconds later, I kept silent. He didn't answer.

Carefully, the man sat on the edge of the bed, with me, tightly locked in his arms. Yes, this was weird, since I didn't know who the guy was and that he could possibly be dangerous or armed. But I didn't budge, and he didn't seem to do anything that'll hurt me. The lights in my bedroom were turned off, so it was dim and I couldn't see his face. I could hear his breathing, and my own, and that was the only thing that occupied the empty air surrounding us.

Then one of his arms; that was under my knees before, slowly placed itself on top of my legs so he could hold me closer. I flinch, and he notices. I felt alarmed that something bad might happen, that all of the 'goodness' of him was the other way around. Trying my best, I pull his arm away from me and ran across the room, which is had a hint of brightness due to the window next to it, showing the moon's light.

"Get out. Please." I pleaded as I breathe heavily.

He stands and makes his way over to me. No, no, no. Each step he took frightened me, and he was getting closer and closer. I backed up further, till I abruptly hit the wall. Crap. I was shaking as I saw him already in front of me, only a few feet away. Fear built up in me, his tall figure hovered over me as he took three steps forward.

"I-I don't know who you are, but why are you here and h-how did you get in my house?" I stutter and look away.

"Your window was open." His voice was raspy, yet too familiar. 

"How could you possibly reach my window? I-It's like two stories high, unless you climbed. . . a tree?" I don't know why, but he chuckles to my reply. Did I say something funny? He didn't respond though, instead he reached towards my hand and grabbed it. Eventually, I harshly pull it back and glare at him, though I didn't see his face that clearly.

"Leave, or I'll scream." I threatened. 

Then I gasped, shivers all around my body as his hand that was balled into a fist, slams itself on the wall; on the left side of my face. He lowers his face, so that it was close to mine. 

"Shut up, Ava." He said coldly. 

I look up into his eyes with fear and sadness, the tears that have fallen suddenly, blurred my vision. It's that feeling when you know you're too weak, and too broken to say anything else because you might just say something you might regret, so you'd rather keep quiet. He notices and retreats his hand, but moves his body closer to mine. 

I was surprised as he gently grasps my hand, giving me a rush feeling. He rubs his thumb on the back of my hand, trying to comfort me. And he does. The beat of my heart slows and flows back normally, and I close my eyes. I thought of how he could turn from being enraged, to someone so kind and gentle. He turns my arm and lightly runs his thumb on top of my scars, while his other thumb wipes my tears away.