Restricted (Harry Styles)

Chapter 11

"Baby, are you alright?" Harry inquired the thirtieth time that day. It was obvious I wasn't, since he basically took every ounce of innocence in me left. The only hope I had was demolished; smashed into little pieces. He's destroyed me.. and, and, he's going to hell for it.

I glared at him through tears. "Do I look okay to you?!"

His expression was one that portrayed panic and fear. The perspiration coating his forehead became evident and I could tell he was going to blow any second.

"I-I'm so sorry! I didn't know what came over me. I'm sorry -- the only thing I did was stretch you though. I didn't slam into you or anything-" he rambled, before I cut him off.

"That is a fucking pathetic excuse. You can't expect to just do that and get away with it.. you're cruel!" I hissed through clenched teeth. I was trying so hard to refrain from lunging at him and practically hurting him.

"I know, what do you want me to do to make it better?" Harry asked desperately, watching as I pulled the covers of his bed over my shaking figure. He can't do anything to make it better, even if he let me go, I'd still be plagued with memories of how he took me.

"You can't," I murmured underneath the sheets, shutting my eyes tightly. "I'm going to the police after this, you know that, you're a fucking sick bastard. I hate you."

"You don't hate me," he clarified, more than sure of his own damn self. "You're going to love me. I know you will.. remember what you said when we last met?"

"No, I don't." I responded glumly, tears leaking out of my eyes. No matter how hard I tried to prevent them from falling, they went against me and did so.

Harry chuckled humorlessly, the bed shifting besides me. I felt him place his hand on my waist through the thick blanket. "You told me you loved me,"

I rolled my eyes, suddenly glad he couldn't see me. "I wasn't in the right state of mind, Harry. I was like, eight or something."

"Still, those words meant the world to me." he confessed, rubbing my waist in an attempt to calm me down. I lowered the sheets a bit to look at him, and his green eyes stared down into mine with admiration. The wrinkles near the corners of his eyes revealed his evident age, and I felt sick again.

"Harry, I feel sick." I uttered, anything to get his hand off me. He frowned and his eyes trailed over my face, detecting any hint of a lie. When he found none, he got off the bed and placed the back of his hand on my forehead, feeling my temperature.

"You're fine," he informed me, his voice turning huskier. I sighed shakily. "Why do you hate me so much?"

"Should that even be a valid question?" I asked, disbelief evident in my voice. "You-"

"Don't start listing things down now, baby girl," he chastised, his expression solemn. "I know what I did was wrong, but you need to remember that I'm the one in control here, regardless of what I did. Understood?"

"You're such a controlling freak," I muttered, kicking him through the sheets. He raped me and he has the audacity to tell me that. "I hate you, Harry, I hate you!"

"Ariana, stop that," Harry scolded, smacking my ass through the bed. I jumped in surprise, my hand instinctively going to the skin where my bum was burning. He spanked me, hard, and honestly, I was getting sick of it.

He was terrifying, but he was much more annoying.

And I have had enough of it. My heart was already racing, my head feeling lightheaded, and I was breathing in weird patterns. I knew I had another panic attack coming; I tended to get them whenever I was overwhelmed with negative emotions such as fear, embarrassment, or in this case, anger.