Heroine (A Harry Styles Fanfic)

Four

Everyone I know always seems to lie to me. 

Maybe if Jim would have been honest about our timing, I could have been more prepared for a longer ride with the pervert sitting next to me. It's been twice that he's felt at home in soiling my skin, his fingers trailing a pattern into my thigh. I'm sickened. Frightened. 

Is this going to be what I have to look forward to?

I'd rather die.

Jim follows the first car, merging into the slow lane and our speed descends. I watch as we follow them off an exit, my shoulders sagging with relief. Only, I'm not so sure what this new place will bring me.  

Mason leans up from his seat with an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. He grabs a lighter off the console, as he speaks. "How many miles are we from the city?"

Jim glances at him through the rear view mirror. "Around three-fifty sir."

Mason lights his cigarette and leans back into the seat again. "Almost six hours," he murmurs more to himself, than to us. He looks over at me while he puts his window down a bit. "All because of you, princess," I pretend not to have heard.

It's not long before the exit we pulled off of, begins to look a little more like a place where people actually live. Even so the stores are few and spread far apart. Aligning the road the street lights illuminate a path both SUV's trail along. Glancing up to the red glow coming from the car before ours, I wonder what's gone on inside, and what's been said-if anything about my family has been reported. We pull down a side road with little streets of houses breaking off every fourth of a mile. It feels like forever passes before we turn right, down one of them. Without being noticeable, I glance up at the street sign.

LANDSTONE TERRACE.

I repeat the name in my head a few times. I hold hope that remembering it could help, and then I remember I won't be leaving. Not unless my dad ends alliances with The Franco's.

Unlikely.

The lights outlining this street are further apart now. The houses here are modest and quaint looking. For a second I wish I was inside any which one of them, only dealing with regular problems. My reality has always been morphed. I guess my father somehow managed to do a good job at making it look better. The love, the books, the lavish gifts, the talks. It was all a cover. This is my life just as much as it's these guys. My father must do these same things, if everything else feels so familiar. The drivers, the commands, the security, the secrets... My father failing me a normal life.

It was me though, who failed myself, in the end. Climbed out my window and practically fell into Harry's hands. Harry who's evil and now has me suddenly seeing my very own father in a different light. 

That's the scariest part of all this. Not the unknown-if I'll ever live to see my family again, or if I'll live each day a miserable victim. Not the whole in my heart that comes with missing home. Not even the fact my families lives depend on me. It's the truth unfolding before me, that hurts the most. It has dawned on me that what my father is to me, he might not be to this world. He could quite potentially be just like Harry.

My heart has torn into two, leaving me numb to my father and the world he has built himself. Don't get me wrong, I miss him and long to hug him like never before. To actually sit with him in his office like we always did at lunch, just to sip tea together while he read the morning paper. But it wouldn't be honest of me not to admit that I feel a sort of guard growing up towards him. To know that all along I was wearing some sort of rose colored glasses. How naive was I to believe that my life wasn't somewhat fabricated?