AMBIVALENT {h.s} [ON HOLD]

Chapter 30.

"This is hard for me to talk about." Harry starts. "I never talk to anyone about this. Ever."

"It's okay, Harry." I say, moving to climb and set on top of the bar with him.

Harry takes another long drink from his bottle of jack before he starts to speak. "It all started in England. I was born into a family of three, my mum, my dad, and my sister. Life was good, I was a good kid. I remember things got rough when my dad left when I was six, and a couple months later my mum's new boyfriend moved in. Gemma and I hated him so much."

I am absolutely astounded that Harry has decided to tell me everything. My mind is eating up the information as soon as it leaves his lips. "And?" I prompt.

"About a year after my dad left us, when I was seven, I started noticing things changing. Mum didn't buy Gemma and I toys and clothes as often as she used to. When she went grocery shopping, she wouldn't buy all the name brand foods that she used to, and she'd gone so long without new shoes or jewelry. I know I was only seven, but I was very observant. It went that way until a few months after my eighth birthday."

I nod and reach out for Harry's hand. He flinches when I touch his skin but doesn't pull away.

"Fück, I sound so stupid telling you all this." Harry says, raking his free hand through his hair.

"No, no way. You're great at telling stories."

With a intake of breath and a sigh, Harry continues. "It was a weekend in April when everything changed. It was decent outside and mum brought me out into our garden to set at our picnic table. She said that we needed to have a talk. I had thought I done something wrong. She told me something that absolutely shattered the eight year old me. She said she had friends in America that could take better care of me than she could. Not long after, she shipped me off. My own fücking mum abandoned me!"

My heart aches for eight year old Harry, and current Harry because it clearly still hurts him. I'm confused about how any of that correlates to him not wanting to be touched.

"You didn't deserve that, Harry." I say softly.

"When I got to America, Kathy and Daniel picked me up at the airport. I got enrolled in school and settled into the house with them and their son Shane. I was depressed and didn't speak to anyone, not even the kids at school who tried to be friends. I thought Kathy and Daniel weren't that bad at first, it was just that I was still upset over my mum sending me away."

"At first?" I ask.

Harry nods. "One day they got a call from the school that I had called another kid a name. When I got home, Daniel hit me so hard in the ribs that it left a bruise. After that, the hits and punches came more often. Kathy was no better and neither was fücking Shane. They knew that Daniel was abusing me and never done anything about it. I couldn't tell anyone about it because if I got taken away from them, I would be sent back to England with my mum who didn't want me anymore. As I got older, the beatings became more brutal. Daniel actually cracked three of my ribs one time because I had accidentally spilled a plate of spaghetti on the floor."

"Harry," I say softly, leaning into him. I am almost in tears at his story. Since when am I so emotional, anyways?

"That's why I'm fücked up. That's why I don't want to be touched, can't be touched. I got beat for so long that physical contact from another person causes me to have flashbacks." Harry explains. His hands are clenched into fists beside him. "I don't want your pity and I don't want you to feel sorry for me."

I am at a loss for words because what else am I supposed to say other than 'sorry'? I want to hug him and make him feel good, the way he makes me feel.

"You're not fücked up, Harry. You have a completely valid reason to be the way you are. No one should have to go through something like that. Look at you now, you got out of there and have this amazing house and amazing job."

Harry shrugs. "It still doesn't take away my past or the fact that my own mum basically disowned me."

"What about your sister, did she come here also?" I ask.

"No. Apparently she was good enough for my mum to keep."

"Do. . . You talk to your sister and your mum?"

"No. They try to call me every so often but I never answer. If I wasn't good enough for them before, I'm not good enough now." Harry snaps.

"Maybe you should just try talking to your mom, Harry. I'm sure she wouldn't ship you off to a place that would be unsafe for you. She probably had no idea that they would treat you the way they did."

"I don't need to be told what to do by you, or by anyone! No one knows what I went through. No one knows what's going on inside my head. It's her fault that this happened to me. Fück, I knew I shouldn't have told you." Harry shouts.

I jump down from the bar top and stand a few feet away. Harry throws the bottle of Jack across the room and it shatters against the wall, brown liquid pooling on the floor around the shards of glass.

"Calm the hell down, Harry." I say, walking closer to him. I thought we were getting somewhere when he told me about his past but it feels like we've backtracked by weeks in less than a minute.

"Elena, get out. I don't even like you, anyways. You've always just been a distraction." Harry says through clenched jaws.

His rough words claw through my chest and bust my heart into two. I guess he means more to me than I thought.

"Get out of my house, Elena!"

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