Trapped (A Harry Styles FanFiction)

Twenty-One

*Anna's POV*

You've been working with an abusive man.

Your father left because of you.

Your mother's gone.

You gave in and had a shot of whiskey before you left.

You are weak.

I let out a shaky breath, feeling a couple of hot tears start to streak down my face. The night air was brutal, smelling faintly of the forgotten coffee next to me, and the bench beneath my legs was equally as cold. The park was empty of all people this late at night, leaving me by myself to think about everything that was on my mind at the moment.

It was shocking just how many things you thought to be true were actually lies. Jack wasn't even Jack. His real name had been Ryan the whole time and I hadn't even given it a second thought. And he wasn't the sweet, helpful boy I thought he was either. In reality he was actually abusive. He could've hurt me whenever he wanted to and I wouldn't even have even seen it coming or been able to protect myself. He could've done whatever he wanted to me at any time. And that truly did scare me.

I was in a big, hot, uncontrollable mess. That was the single and only way to put it. I had been lied to repetitively, injected with house-made drugs, and was followed around by various gang members. My perfect record in life that I had been working so hard to keep up was slowly crumbling down beneath me, and it was only a matter of time before everything just downright collapsed. I was a ticking time bomb.

"Do you always come here like a loner at night, or have I just gotten lucky twice now?"

Harry's gruff voice broke through the silent air like a knife. I could hear his sneakers trail across the frosted grass as he came closer from the direction behind me. I stayed quiet as he leisurely sat down beside me, keeping a few inches between us to where it was just friendly.

"Not in the mood to talk today?" He asked lightly, a small hint of amusement in his voice. I didn't look to his face, but I could feel the heat of his eyes searching me, wanting an answer. Wordless moments passed and I could sense his patience wearing thin. "Seriously? Answer me." Harry's voice dropped octaves lower, growing deeper and more dangerous in an instant. At my continued stubborn silence, he cracked. He roughly grabbed me by the arm, turning me to face him without a single objection.

"What do you want, Harry?" I croaked. Harry's jade eyes quickly scanned my face, no doubt taking to notice the drying tears that streaked my cheeks.

"I want you to talk to me." His voice was indifferent from before. "What are you doing here?"

"Thinking. Why are you here?"

"I was out for a drink."

"I don't smell alcohol on you." I huffed, breaking my arm out of his grasp. His hand dropped awkwardly to his side.

"I was on my way there, darling." Harry frowned. "Listen, we can interrogate each other on stupid things or we can talk about why you're sitting in an abandoned park at three in the morning."

"So, why is your hair curly-"

"Anna, seriously." My voice was light and joking, but Harry's whole expression and posture was radiating a dead seriousness. His blazing eyes caused me to shift uncomfortably where I sat.

"I told you already, I was thinking." I said quietly.

"About what?"

"Does it matter?"

"It always matters."

I looked into Harry's face for some type of sarcasm or dishonesty, but I found nothing of the sort. He was looking to me with full focus and attention. I was surprised at how interested he was in the situation. It was almost as if he cared. Ha.