bully (harry styles)

two

Dinner passed by quickly, which ended with my mom forcing me outside to meet the new neighbors. Mom told me that they only had one child, a boy. She hasn't met them yet but glanced through the window multiple times during the day.

Only one thought hit me, that their kid would go to the same school as me. That meant they would be so quick to judge me and they wouldn't even bother to speak a single word to me after their first day of school, but that's okay. I'm sure nobody would anyways.

When these anxious thoughts took over me, I told my mom I felt sick and ran back into the house, sprinting to my room.  I couldn't help it. After being bullied for years, that is how you turn out to be. A person that constantly worries about what people think about you. Shaking my head, I walked over to my desk and looked for a new book to begin.

..........

I woke up in the middle of the night, sweat and panic taking over every inch of my body. The nightmares wouldn't just stop. If someone were to witness what I saw at the age of seven, I'm sure they would be stuck with nightmares as well. Nobody at school knew about what I went through at such a young age, not even Liz.

I was going to confront her about my past one day, but I wouldn't dare tell her what happened, only the cover story behind it.  I was going to tell her the same day, that she told me that her mother had cancer, so I decided to let it go. After that, she became distant... but I don't blame her.  If I was going through what she is I would do the same.

I shook all over, goosebumps rising from the cold air as I pulled off my blanket. I tiptoed to my mother's bedroom and shook her arm.

"Mom..." I whispered,

"What Mickey?" My mom groaned and turned on her side to face me.

"I had another nightmare," I frowned, It was always a good excuse to skip school. My mother knew I couldn't prevent the nightmares. My mom frowned back at me, knowing that I still deal with this almost every night.

I layed down next to her and stared at the clock, each hour passing by until it was 9 in the morning. Tired. Exhausted. That's how I felt almost every night. I made it through the day normally with four hours of sleep, the dark circles underneath my eyes growing prominent.

Half the day passed , while I sat at home either chattering away with my mother or with my collection of brand new books recently bought. I was glad I skipped school today, I needed a break from everything and to just relax. I layed down on my bed and closed my eyes, resting for a couple minutes.

A few minutes later,   I heard a loud thud and a scream coming from downstairs. I shot myself up, knowing that was my mothers voice. No, not again.. my thoughts were jumbled everywhere. Without thinking, I jump from my bed and run down the stairs. ''Mom?!" I scream out. This is a dream... only a dream, I kept repeating.I sprint to the kitchen, trying to search for my mother.But instead of seeing my mother, I see my father on the ground with a hole straight through his stomach. I scream but no sound comes out. Why can't I scream?  I keep opening my mouth but no sound comes out.

I turn around, seeing my mother. An evil smirk appeared on her lips before she lunged towards me.

..........

My mother was forcing me to meet the new folks in the neighborhood, which resulted me begging to stay at home but she wouldn't have it.  She told me that when I ran off, she wanted me to meet the son so she didn't bother going over. My mother thought he would be a nice guy, that she might "hook us up".  I laughed and shook my head, knowing that no guy could ever like me.

I was still shaking from the nightmare that took place just a couple of hours ago. My mother told me that I was screaming so much, my neighbors all the way across the street could hear us. They called to make sure everything was okay, that there wasn't an incident like before.

I hated it. Why won't the dreams ever go away? It's been 11 years since it happened... You would think they would go away after a couple years, but not for me. They stuck,  nothing seemed to keep them away. Not even the state's best therapist would help. Someone recommended shock therapy, but I was quick to deny the idea. I doubt that would even help. But how could it help? I was in danger every minute that I was alive, as long as I didn't tell anyone. I know I may be overreacting, but after living your whole life in fear, that is how you become.

I knocked on the door twice, there was a slight tension between my mother and I. Not a bad tension, just awkward. I saw a tall man open the door first and I immediately knew it was the father. ''Hello! Can I help you?" He had a bright smile, taller than six foot for sure. My mother spoke first, ''Hi, we just wanted to say welcome to the neighborhood! We live right over here to the left," I stuck out the plate that was in my hand, ''It's homemade cookies," I smiled at him.

''Oh, thank you so much! That's so unexpected... wow. Nobody stopped by yet.'' The man smiled at us, it was a nice friendly smile, a big contrast to what I see during school. ''Sorry, I didn't introduce myself. My names Elvis,''

''I'm Anna, and this is my daughter, Mickey.'' My mother spoke, looking Elvis up and down. Elvis looked in his late 30's or early 40's, but he did look attractive for his age. I rolled my eyes at my mother and she gave me a look. ''Sorry, I'll go and call my son. You can come inside if you want!" We both nodded awkwardly and stepped in the house, being hit with a smell of fresh paint. I look around, the house on the outside is all made of brick, it looked about fifty years old. In the inside the diner room is on the right when you enter, following by a kitchen then the living room. What I could see was a big hallway which I guessed lead to the bathroom and bedrooms. The walls were decorated in all brick on the inside as well, slightly damaged but it was beautiful.  Bookshelves covered one wall, it was stacked neatly side by side with brand new and old books. I never knew that this old house looked so beautiful on the inside.

Me being a bookworm, I squealed on the inside and ran to it, causing my mother to scowl behind me but I didn't care. I was so distracted by the books stocked on the bookshelf that Elvis's voice startled me.

''This is my son, Harry." He smiled.

I darted my eyes towards the boy, slightly shorter than his father. His hands were stuck in his front pockets and his brown, slightly curly hair was pushed upwards in the front. He was dressed in all black, which was a big contrast to how his father was dressed. ''Hey,'' Harry smiled towards me, obviously not paying any attention to my mother next to me. ''Hi.'' I awkwardly smiled and turned towards my mother. Me and her exchanged the same look. He was attractive. Very attractive.

A few minutes later, Harry returned to his room and Elvis was in the living room, talking to us. He told us more about himself and his son.

His son, Harry, is the same age as me. Elvis and his son were forced to move around a lot, because of Elvis' job. They are originally from England, but after moving place to place in the US, he finally found the job here.  Elvis doesn't have a wife, he used to but she died giving birth to Harry. ''I've never went on dates or anything like that after she passed, I haven't found the right person.'' He told us, a frown taking over his face. I decided to start a new topic of conversation, seeing how uncomfortable Elvis was.

''Will Harry be going to the school right down the street?" I politely asked, praying he wasn't.

''Yes! Do you go there as well?"

I nodded my head, ''Of course I do.'' Sighing and darting my eyes back out to the window. Great. I really hoped that he wasn't like the rest of them.

(A/N: Just a reminder, this is a fanfic. I am well aware that Harry's fathers name is not really Elvis and his mother isn't dead ;) Thanks to the people who are reading! Please vote and comment, i love you all x.)