Break Me-A Harry Styles Fanfiction

Chapter 35-Free

Harry and I walk hand-in-hand into the dining room, both ecstatically happy, almost high off of each other's contentment, as we relish in our previous exchange. We greet my parents, and little brother as we slide into our seats at the table. My aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents have seemingly all left, so all that remains is my immediate family, and the boy that I love.
We eat most of breakfast in silence, the only sound heard is that of our forks scraping against the porcelain plates, as we each devour our pancakes.
"So Harry," My mother eventually sparks a conversation. "how did you and Bella meet?" Normally, I would dive in and help him out of such a fatally messy question, but I find this one amusing. I'm not sure if the exact answer will be what my mother's expecting.
What is he expected to say? Something along the lines of, "Oh, we technically met at a party where Bella had a mental breakdown, and we hated each other for a while, but then we kissed, and it all fell into place." would be the most truthful, yet strange response. The thought almost makes me giggle, and I stare at Harry expectingly, awaiting his cleverly thought out answer. He clears his throat.
"Um, we have History class together." He explains simply. It technically isn't a lie, but it isn't the truth either. I frown slightly, a bit disappointed by his lack of details on the subject of our relationship. Noticing my apparent disapproval, Harry speaks again.
"The second I saw Bella though, I knew that she was different, she was special. She's the most interesting and beautiful person I've ever met." As he admits this, his eyes never leave mine, green meeting blue in an intense and captivating stare, filled with raw emotion and passion. My heart's pace rapidly increases, blood coursing through my veins speedily; thrumming through my body like that of a pulsing river.
"Aww!" My mother squeals, but she sounds far away, distant. As I stare into Harry's jade irises, it seems as though we're the only people in the room, all of my surroundings noticeably dimming around the light illuminating Harry's eyes.
The conversation around us picks up again, and I lace my fingers through Harry's under the table. I lean towards him slightly, only enough for my lips to become closer to his ear.
"I love you." I whisper quietly. Dimples concave the sides of his face in a boyish grin, as Harry leans his body closer to mine.
"I love you, too."

~*~

"Bella?" My mother's voice calls me from the other room. I stand with my back turned to the sound, loading the empty breakfast plates into the dishwasher, and wiping down the counter tops. Leaving my post, I walk into the living room where my mother sits, perched upon a chair, book and telephone in hand, one outstretched towards me.
"Someone's on the phone for you, they said they're a friend from school." She tells me, as I reach out, and grab the phone from her awaiting hands. Her answer perplexes me, seeing as I really don't have many friends from school. Could it be Naomi? Dylan?
"Hello?" I speak into the phone, walking away from my mother, and back into the empty kitchen.
"Bella," The voice on the other end breathes, and my heart stops. My blood turns to ice in my veins, sending a chill down my spine in sheer terror.
"What do you want? Why are you calling? How did you get this number?" I stutter, tugging at the roots of my hair with my free hand, and pacing around the tiled kitchen floor.
"Your parents didn't change the phone number." He chuckles into the speaker, his laugh resonates down to my toes, shooting an eerie, fear-striking horror throughout my entirety.
"Y-you can't be calling. Why are you calling?" I question frantically.
"Bella, relax." He commands. "I'm not gonna do anything. I'm just calling to, uh, I guess tell you that I'm done."
"Done with what?"
"I left the state." He tells me, blatantly ignoring my previous query. "I've driven down to Phoenix to start over. I've met some cool people, and I haven't even been drinking. I know I've caused a lot of shit in your life, I get that now. I'm not gonna apologize or anything, but I just wanted to tell you that I'm done, done with you. This is the last time you'll be hearing from me."
"Charlie, I," I stutter, head spinning, thoughts running wild. "I don't even know what to say." I admit, surprising myself with my calm tone, whereas my insides seem to be detonating like bombs then exploding one by one.
"You don't have to say anything. I just wanted to tell you goodbye. I owe you that much."
"Goodbye, Charlie."
"Bye Bella, I know you think I'm just a drunk asshole, but at one point, I did love you."
"Thank you." And with that, he hangs up the phone. I stand still in the kitchen for what feels like forever, just thinking; memories washing over me like a flood, and dragging me down under their heavy current. Screaming, yelling, crying, slapping, punching, kicking. His breath like that of whiskey, penetrating my pores, and seeping into my soul, damaging me from the inside out, shattering my pieces, and then throwing me away. I think of his eyes, like honey, golden brown, with flecks of gold that, to this day, haunt me. I think of his hands, strong and large, slapping down on my skin, purple marks peppering my flesh like splattered paint. I think of my heart, breaking at the seams, shrinking in size as I watched the boy I loved manifest into a monster right before my eyes. I think of myself, empty, missing numerous pieces; pieces that he stole without plans of returning them to me. I think of how broken, damaged, confused, scarred, lonely, sad, and disoriented I am, wondering when exactly I'll find equilibrium within me to piece myself back together. I think of Harry, completely bewildered as to what he sees in me, see beyond my mental scarring, but appreciate his presence nonetheless.
But in the midst of my internal breakdown, I smile, wiping the tears that litter my cheeks away. I smile because, even though it happened, and I can't seem to get myself back on track, it's over. He's gone, just a memory now, just another face in a nightmare. I smile. He's gone, I'm free.
I don't know how long it will take to put myself back together, to rummage through the ashy remains left in the wake of Charlie, but knowing now that he's gone may be a good start. So lost in thought, I hardly notice when Harry enters the room, finished with his shower. His wet hair is darkened, sticking to his perfect face, and dripping water droplets onto his forehead. He wraps his strong arms around my waist from behind, and something within me shifts; my blood reheats, unfreezing and continuing its routine of rippling through my veins; my heart returns to its normal pace, significantly warming due to Harry's touch. I lean my back against him, allowing my breaths to even out, as we stand, silently wrapped in each other.
"Who was on the phone?" He questions, leaning down, and placing a kiss to the base of my neck.
"Nobody," I say. "Nobody we'll ever have to worry about."

~*~

Heart pounding, breaths unsteady, legs wobbling. Run, run, run; I urge myself to go faster, occasionally checking behind me to make sure that he isn't hot on my trail. When he's no where to be seen, I allow myself to slow down, eventually coming to a stop, and collapsing to the floor in exhaustion. My breathing is shaky and choppy, my legs are burning due to my speedy movements, and my heart is fluttering in my ribcage, thrumming inside the confining bones, begging to be released. I know I should get up, and create as much distance between us as possible, but I can't. I can't keep running, I'm both mentally and physically exhausted by my numerous attempts at escape, and no matter how many times I try and peruse such actions, I always end up back where I started. I'm running in circles, trapped on a merry-go-round that's spinning, spinning, spinning, never allowing me a chance to step off. I'm tired, and I don't have it in me to fight anymore.
It isn't until I hear his footsteps that I'm back on my feet. I know he's angry, and my consequences are inevitable, but I have to at least try to prolong the repercussions for as long as possible. I make a sharp turn, and head down a long, narrow hallway that I've never seen before. It seems to be never ending, and as I continue down, I spot a door at then end of it.
"Well, well, well." His voice sounds from behind me, accelerating my heart's speed. I increase my pace, pumping my legs harder to reach my destination more quickly. It isn't until I reach the door that he speaks again. "And where do you think you're going?" I swivel around on my heel, turning to face him. His lips are curled up in an evil and viscous smirk, almost daring me to reply.
"Away from you." I spit, turning my back to him once more, and reaching for the door handle. I turn the handle once, twice, three times, jiggling the metal knob continuously before I realize that it won't budge.
"No, no, no!" Tears blur my vision, as my fate becomes clear to me. I'm stuck, the door is locked, I'm trapped with the one person in the world whom I fear most. "Why?" I ask my honey eyed captor, feebly cries tumbling from my trembling lips.
"Don't you get it?" His features soften, as he takes a step towards me, furrowing his brows as he does so. I shake my head sadly, tears leaking from my blue eyes, and falling down my cheeks like a heavy rainfall. "You can't get away, Bella. You think I'm gone, but I'm not."
"You are gone!" I cry. "You told me so yourself." I'm back where I was months ago, a small, fragile, helpless girl, afraid of everything. No strength whatsoever, believing that she deserves all of life's difficulties.
"I may not be with you physically, but you'll never get away from me. I'll be with you forever, in your dreams, in your mind, in your soul, I'll be there, waiting. Waiting for your moments of weakness, then attacking from within. You think you're strong, Bella. You think you can get past this, but guess what. You're wrong. You'll always be the weak girl that I knew, and nothing, no matter what, will ever change that." I drop to my knees, rough sobs breaking free, and erupting from the back of my throat, as his words sink in. I cry because I'm scared, cry because I'm sad, cry because he's right.

I wake with a gasp, my breathing heavy, as my eyes dart around, taking in my surroundings. The room is pitch black, no light whatsoever encompassing the small space. Harry's light snores are heard next to me, his muscular arms wrapped around me protectively. He's almost suffocatingly close to me, yet I still, somehow, feel alone, empty, unimportant. My cheeks are wet with tears, my heart heavy with emotion, my brain overflowing with unwanted thoughts.
Silently, I free myself of his grip. He stirs in his sleep, brows furrowing at my absence, but doesn't wake. My bare feet pad across the hardwood, tiptoeing down the hall, and into the bathroom. I close the door slowly, the click of the handle barely heard as I lock the wooden frame. I release a sigh, fingers running through my hair, and the last of my tears spill down my cheeks.
I open the cabinet hanging above the sink, scanning the shelves for what I crave the most. It's hard to miss, resting on the top shelf in a small blue box, practically screaming to be opened. I stand on my tippy toes to retrieve it, opening it slowly, staring down at my objects of comfort. The sharp edges are calling to me, begging, pleading to dig into my skin, and drain my head of dangerous thoughts. I pick up the sharpest razor, examining it in my hand, contemplating whether or not I should do it.
I haven't in so long, for I've promised Harry. But everyday, it's there, in the back of my head, waiting for moments like this, moments of complete and utter helplessness. If anyone knew, they would kill me, but right now, I don't care. Right now, I feel so lost, so empty, so alone, that there's no one to turn to. No one understands the kinds of dangerous, and terrifying thoughts that invade my head. I don't even understand them. That's why I do this, that's why I hurt myself. I do it to take this pressure that builds inside of my chest, weighing heavily on my heart, and release it. I do it to finally feel something, anything, instead of constant sadness. I do it to forget, to focus on the blood dripping from my veins instead of my past, my present, or my future.
Without another thought, I do it, I swipe the sharp blade across my wrist hurriedly. Immediately, blood flourishes at the spot, pouring from the open wound in an overwhelming abundance. I realize that the cut I've just made is deeper than any I've ever done, but it still isn't enough, it will never be enough. I press harder, dragging the razor across my arm, in a long, and well constructed line. The familiar, and beautiful burn accompanies the red liquid, electrifying my senses, igniting a deep fire to burn within me. I need more, I crave more. On my other arm, I take the blade, press down, and draw a long, vertical line starting from my wrist, and ending just before my elbow. The laceration is deep, no skin shown anymore as the unzipped veins are pooling with red. Finally I feel something, finally this dull ache in my chest is fulfilled with something other than a deep, burning self hatred.
It isn't until I begin to feel dizzy that I realize that something isn't right. My vision blurs, and everything around me morphs together to form one big, and indecipherable mess. Even though my head feels light and weightless, and my heart pounds heavily in my chest, thrumming like a hammer against cloth, I can't bring myself to care about my fate. I don't care about what happens to me. No one does. If I die, my parents still have Collin, Harry will move on, and Charlie will have gotten everything he's ever wanted. If I die, I will be free.
I don't realize that I've fallen to the floor until my head hits the ground with a thud. My eyelids feel heavier with each passing moment, and all I want is for sleep to envelope me once and for all. There's so much blood, spilling from my arms, forming puddles on the tiles. So much blood, so much sorrow, so much sadness, so much-













The end.

Just kidding.