Sparrows

Chapter 7

“ It’s not what it looks like,” my mother pleaded. But Harry stood still, not speaking, not reacting as if someone sucked his words out of his body. He suddenly flinched, looking at his shiny black boots and rubbing is hand against his neck.

Though my mother had just assaulted me, I did not feel a cry for help, but more of a streak of embarrassment, generally because Harry was there to witness it, and I had just met him 2 hours ago.

“I- I, was ju-st, I was just looking for the restr-room, I” the phrases where spitting out of his mouth. He surprised me by walking in my direction, grabbing my arm, coming into facial contact with mother.

“Madam, I know we all have our issues, but don’t ever release them on your daughter. I won’t tell anyone of this, but, don’t touch her again.” He said calmly, so calmly it frightened me. Harry’s was growling, his eyes deepening into my mother’s orbs, warning her with his striking gaze. My mother was horrified, either from the act she had done, or the fact that someone witnesses it, and had confronted her about it. I assumed it was the second option. Harry then dragged me out of the room, still buzzed with pain from my encounter, and took me into the hallway.

Straightaway, Harry tugs my arm closer to his chest, guiding me to the comfort of his body. His face is serous and concerned, rubbing his hand of the now red marking situated on my right cheek. His touch tingled from my face all the way down to my toes, my heart dropped. I made my way up to his eyes. They where not focused on my own but on the surface of my cheek. Of course he wasn’t looking at you Marine, get over yourself, it’s not like you like him anyway, he’s just attractive.

 

‘Thanks subconscious for the words of encouragement, though you may be somewhat right.’

I continued to study him. They way his eyebrows clenched when he concentrated, or how his biceps flexed when he lifted his arm. It took me a long time to notice I was gawking. Harry met my eyes and then grinned, revealing his side smile, obviously amused by my embarrassing fascination with his face.

“Did you hear me Marine?’ he asked, smiling obviously knowing the answer to my question.

“ No, sorry.” I bow my head down.

“You need ice,” he repeated, still smirking at me. “You stay here, I don’t want to cause a scene, and so I will grab some ice from the kitchen and meet you back here, unless, you, um, want to go back downstairs, or, it’s your choice.” His kindness and awkwardness was very refreshing, it’s not everyday where someone is invested in my opinion. His accent was deep and raspy, somehow it was mellifluous, soothing to the ear. 

“ Is it ok if I stay here? I wasn’t really having a ball downstairs as you could probably tell from my ‘fit’ at the dinner table.” I replied. Though I was so fascinated with Harry’s rescue, it still didn’t numb the ache on my face, and in my heart. I was so sick of being scrutinized for every “fault” or “misconception” I faced. I was just so drained.

“ Yeah, whatever you like,” he gave me a sympathizing smile, as if he understood my agonies.

Harry then departed down the stairs to retrieve me aid. I swiftly felt very alone, deserted. Being isolated in the middle of my family room directed my ears to the laughter of the guest below me, and the light music playing in the background. I do not know why or how, but the stillness of my environment had led me to the grasping of the past events tonight, and throughout my life. All the harsh comments, the dirty looks. How I deepened them into my heart, convincing myself that the aching was an illusion, but now, in this moment, I realized, that though I did not care for what people thought of me, the sound of their insults did not burn any less.