Speak |h.s. a.u.|

Chapter Two

               Annabelle heard what they said. They have been saying that for so long. Even when she would talk, they still called her a brat. What did she ever do wrong? She always treats everyone with so much respect. She always helps others when she can. She gives, and never receives. It's like the whole world is against her at this point, and she is so tired of it.

She wishes she could just leave. She wants to leave, go somewhere new and far away, and start her life all over again. Meet new people, find a job and a house, friends, a lover. Maybe she could even start talking again. No. That can't happen. All she would do is bug everyone like she used to, and somehow still does.

She stopped talking because she thought she wouldn't be such a bother to her family, but now they act as if she is a huge screw-up, snob, and rude little kid. She is not a kid. She's eighteen, not five. She just wishes she could find someone, anyone, who would care about her, not judge her, and help her. Heck, maybe even love her for once.

Who is she kidding? She won't find anyone that will help and love a girl who refuses to talk to anyone. She hasn't even laughed out loud in years.

She walked to her room, crying. Of course. She quietly shut her door, then sat down on her bed, facing the door and pulling her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on the top of her knees. She soon calmed down, the tears from earlier staining her cheeks as she sat there silently, listening to her breathing.

Believe it or not, but this happens all the time. Like, a lot. She feels so weak when she cries, so vulnerable, but she can't help it anymore. Her parents aren't helping this situation at all.

Then her door opened. Her head shot up, expecting it to be her mother or father, so she prepared herself to be scolded for hiding up in her 'cave,' as they like to call it. But it was Harry.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't know this was your room. I was just looking for the bathroom. Uh..."

She wiped the few dry tears from her cheeks and stood up.

This is so embarrassing.

"I don't think we have properly met. I'm Harry." He held out his hand, and Annabelle hesitantly took it, shaking it. "You're Annabelle, right?" She nodded. "It's nice to meet such a beautiful girl." He's got to be blind, she thought.

She made a face of disgust, shaking her head.

"What?" He laughed. "You don't agree? Well, I think you're quite pretty." She blushed. She's not good with compliments. "Would you mind showing me to a bathroom?" He shoved his hands in the pockets of his tight black jeans.

She lead him to the last door in the hallway and opened it. He smiled, and thanked her, then entered as she walked back into her room.

Harry is adorable. He took Annabelle's breath away the first time she saw him.
Don't even get her started on that hot accent of his. Yes, they're in Chesire, but Annabelle is from America, lived there until she was thirteen. Then her parents just up and moved her here. Why? Who knows. They wouldn't ever tell her.

She can't help but blush (or more like turn into a tomato) every time Harry speaks to her. She wishes she could talk to him, but she promised herself when she started this that she would never talk again until she actually had people around her that she could trust, people that love her for her, speaking or no speaking.

She can't trust Harry. She bets he has a new girlfriend every month. He seems like that kind of boy, you know, good looking, nice, flirty. She bets all the girls are all over him all the time.

She just doesn't want to end up getting hurt. Wait wait, what is she even thinking about? It's not like he would ever go for her anyway. He probably thinks she is some freak, not talking, blushing (turning into a tomato head), avoiding his gaze.

She looked in the mirror, wiping away the stuff from her cheeks and quickly turning away. She hates seeing her reflection.

She walked out of her room, and her shoulder hit something. She turned around, to see Harry.

"Sorry," he grinned, "again." She smiled, slightly nodding as if saying 'it's okay.'

They both walked back downstairs, Annabelle in front of him. She was so uncomfortable. She felt like he was staring at her, silently judging her. As soon as she made it down the stairs, she quickly headed for her rocking chair in the corner. She loves this chair. It used to be her grandma's, but she got sick and has been living between the hospital and that place that old, sick people live, that need special care. She used to go visit her a few times every month, until they moved. She loves her grandma so much. She accepts Annabelle for who she is- well, she used to. They haven't talked since Annabelle moved, which really hurt.

The rest of the evening, she sat in the rocking chair and played her DS and listened to the many different conversations that were going on. She couldn't help but glance at Harry every now and then. She just doesn't understand how someone can be so beautiful.

That night, as everyone was leaving, Harry was the only one to tell her goodbye, making sure to flash an adorable, handsome smile, and told her that he hopes to see her again soon.