Harry styles Imagines (Book 1)

The Blade

Your POV

I lay comfortably in bed, cuddled up next to Harry. He was mindlessly flipping through the channels. “What do you want to watch?” He asked, his attention drifting away from the TV for a moment.

 

I ran my hand over the back of my neck. “I don’t know,” I replied.

 

He was silent, his eyes slowly shifting in the direction of my wrist. I pulled my arm away, slowly glancing down at it. Staring up at me were rows of tiny scars etched across my skin. “What are those?” He asked, but I didn’t look at him.

 

I was ashamed. I didn’t want to admit my defeat to the temptation of the blade. How the voices in my head would call to me mocking me for everything that I am. ‘You don’t deserve him,’ they would say. ‘You ugly worthless piece of shit don’t deserve anything.’ The blade silenced the voices. It calmed me in ways Harry would never understand.

 

He took my wrist in his hand removing my bracelets one by one. I waited for him to say something, but he was silent. I felt a small cool drop a water fall on my skin. I glanced up, and I noticed he was crying. “This is my fault,” he admits, and I shake my head.

 

I carefully brush my hand against his cheek, wiping away his tears. “It’s not your fault,” I reassure him. And it really isn’t. He can’t help that I was born into this curse. Schizophrenia they call it. It’s just another word to me.

 

I could hear the voices stirring in the back of my mind. I closed my eyes forcing them away. Tears began forming in my eyes. I felt Harry’s strong arms wrap around me, pulling me into his chest. He carefully strokes my hair, silencing the voices.

“I’ll protect you,” He whispered. “I promise I won’t let this happen again,” he added, and I believed him. I took a deep breath wondering how long this moment would last. For now it seemed to be working, but sooner or later the voices would be back.