Resurrection (Harry Styles Fan fiction)

1

Rachael's POV

"Rachael get the hell down here!" Dave, my step-father yelled from downstairs. I heard bottles breaking and walls cracking. He is drunk.

Dave wasn't my real father. He's my mother's widower. He's her widower because she passed away. Dave was abusive towards me. He would beat me after coming home drunk every night and the memories are stuck in my brain. I can't get the image of his fist connecting with my jaw out of my head.

I couldn't just go live with my biological father, because he was in jail. He was accused of murdering my mom, but he didn't. I saw how my mom died. I saw her last breath. I saw her take one last look at me before the car smashed into the bridge.

But my dad was accused because he has had a history of making bad choices. A lot. But he said that he forgot all about his past when he met my mom. I didn't doubt that. My mother was a great woman. She would do anything for her family. She loved us. And I loved her.

"Rachael!" He screamed and I heard another bottle connect with the floor. I knew that if I didn't go soon, he would hurt me more than he already does.

I ran down the stairs and into the kitchen where glass covered the floor. Blood trailed down my fathers leg and he stood there with half a broken bottle.

"I told you to buy and make dinner!" He screamed at me. It's funny though because he never told me that at all. He says the most random things when he's drunk.

"You never-" I began to say but stopped when he threw the broken bottle at my feet. I cried in pain when the glass entered my foot. I tried to move my foot but the pain was unbearable. I grabbed onto the counter for support.

I've dealt with so much pain in my life. Physically and emotionally. So this felt somewhat normal to me. And I know it shouldn't. Nobody should have to feel pain as a normal thing. Pain should not take over an entire persons life. What's the point of living if it does?

Dave started running toward me and with the strength I had left, limped my way out of the kitchen and towards the front door. He chased after me screaming my name. I knew that if he was to catch me.. I would experience more pain that ever before. You never know what he will do when he's drunk.

My foot was bleeding onto the white carpet that was stained with alcohol. Too many horrid events have occurred on it. Too many events that I'm so familiar with.

I ran out the front door and down the street. I had to get away from him. I had too. This was my chance.

I looked back and saw him getting closer. My foot was shooting pain through me but I couldn't let it stop me from leaving that evil man.

I saw a gate ahead and pulled myself over it. When I landed on the other side, I fell to the ground. My ankle twisted and I cried in pain. I looked back to see that Dave wasn't following me anymore. I sighed in relief and stood up on one foot. I hopped for what felt like hours until I got to the one place where I could be happy.

The secret garden. Me and my mom came here when I was a child. She would tell me stories and we would have picnics together. We called it the secret garden because it was just outside of town and was covered by a blanket of trees and vines. It was on the beach so we would always go fishing. We would sit on the old white bench in the morning and listen to the birds. At night, we would listen to the crashing waves. Flowers covered the small area and made it beautiful. It looks different though. The flowers aren't as bright and the birds don't sing as loud. The bench has chips of paint missing and it is starting to rust. It seems as everything that was beautiful in my life has somehow been destroyed.

I lay down on the once beautiful bench and began to cry. How could someone's life be so painful? Why me? I've lost the battle but I am still trying to win. But I can't. What's the point in trying?

The sun was going down along the horizon of the water. For a second I swear I could feel my mothers hand on my shoulder like how she used to do it when we came her to watch the sunset. I felt her hand on my shoulder move down my back and I closed my eyes to enjoy the feeling.

My eyes flew open when I realized that someone actually has there hand on me. Forgetting that I had just been stabbed with broken class, and fallen off a gate, I jumped off the bench and fell to the ground.

I gasped and turned around to see a dark figure, only being lit by the setting sun. I could see half of his face in the orange light. He walked closer. Hovering over me as I lay on the grass.

He knelt down and I tried to move away but I couldn't. His hand grabbed mine and his other wrapped around my back and he pulled me up.

"Are you ok?" The deep British voice asked me. Still holding me, he leaned in closer so his face was only inches away from mine.

"I-Um" I said shakily. I was more scared than ever. A tear fell from my eye and I covered my face with both hands.

The man pulled me closer and I cried harder. I don't know if I'm crying because I feel comforted by his arms or because of everything that's happened in my life and this man could very well add to the list of horrible things that have happened. Who knows what he will do?

"Don't cry" he told me, moving my hands from my face. I gasped at his touch and held in the rest of my tears.

"What do you want with me?" I asked him with a defeated tone. One of his hands moved to my back and the other grabbed my hand.

"I want to protect you" he told me looking me in the eyes. And for the first time in years, I felt safe. I barelyy knew this man but for some reason I trusted him. If it was anyone else I wouldn't feel like this. But something just, pulls me in.

-

And that's the story of how I met the person who changed my life. The person who would protect me. The person who never wanted me to feel like I did before. The person who would lift me from my depression and begin to make me forget of all the awful things I've dealt with. Harry.

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