Passion || h.s.

Chapter 2

"Don't hurt her," she whispered, while the clean knife trailed across her fair skin. My mother wasn't crying, not like anyone else would of. She saw me sitting across the room, my hands tied loosely behind my back.

"One at a time sweetie," he whispered, slowly slicing her skin-

"Mickey stop!"

I dropped the knife. I wasn't alone. A boy with familiar curly hair and a deep British accent stood across from me in my kitchen.

"Who are you?!" I screamed out, backing away from him. Fear flooded my veins, sending me into shock. He tried to grab my hands, but I pushed him back, trying to scream but I couldn't. My legs got stiff, just like my arms, and soon I was having a hard time moving. "Please don't hurt me... I... Plea.. Oh..." My breath faltered before I fell to the ground.

"Mickey, calm down. It's me, Harry. Remember? Hey, just take deep breaths. You're okay. You're okay." Harry. Sylvia's Harry. Sylvia was British? I barely noticed. As soon as I recongnzied Harry, it became easier to breath. My legs began to loosen up, as well as my arms. It still didn't explain why he was in my kitchen at 3:05 in the morning.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him as he helped me up.

"I... It doesn't matter. Are you okay?"

"Fine. Leave."

"No, I can't. See this is my place, not yours."

I sighed loudly enough for him to hear. "I haven't seen you for a long time, you look good."

"Same to you Micks. How are you?" I was having a conversation at 3 AM with a stranger. This wasn't my usual Monday night, but it was better than sitting alone withering in my nightmare. I gestured for Harry to sit on the couch, lightly walking behind him.

"I'm doing great. Finally home again."

"You wanted to come back?" He asked, confusion clear in his face. He looked good, better than I remembered. A tan was clear on his skin, and his green eyes were the only thing I seemed to remember about him. He was wearing a black jacket with a pair of skinny black jeans and white converse. A rosary rested on his neck, and I could see a small string looking bracelet around his wrist. Without realizing it, I reached for it, toying with the charm around my fingers. It was a circle with a tiny flower in the middle. I almost recognized it, but I couldn't figure out where I had seen it.

"You like it?" He asked. I nodded slightly, still trying to remember. "I missed you Mickey."

"Michela," I corrected, dropping the charm at the sound.

"Sorry. I didn't know."

"You barely knew me, how could you miss me?"

He laughed a little bit before lifting me up with his arms as if I were as light as a feather. "Time for bed," he whispered, carrying me to the bed. Without even saying goodnight, or explaining his sudden mood change, he left the room, turning the light behind him.