Sold // Harry Styles

Chapter 10

Warning: Mention of death, drugs, and alcohol.

A.J. slams me down in a chair and paces back and forth in front of me.  I swallow the hole in the back of my throat.  He’s teaching me how to be strong and if strong is what he wants, strong is what he’ll get.  I’m not giving him the satisfaction of seeing me cry in front of him.

“We’re gonna play a fun game, Michelle.  Just you and I.  Would you like to play a game with me?”

I stare up at him not wanting to answer his question.  I keep my mouth closed.  He stops pacing and turns around to look at me with his piercing eyes.

“What have I told you about using your damn voice?  You have a voice for a reason so use it.”

“Okay,” I say in a whisper.

“Good.  It’s quite simple actually.  I’m going to talk to you and you’re going to listen.  If you cry or show any sign of weakness, you will get punished.  And I’ll hold my word to it—don’t you worry, sweetheart.”

I cringe at the nickname.

 A.J. continues to pace back and forth in front of me before he stops abruptly and leans into my face.  I can smell the scent of his cigarettes on his clothes and breath.

“Yelling doesn’t seem to make you cry.  I already tested that theory out in the car.  You seemed very collected and I must say I’m impressed.”

I stare into his eyes and he smirks before pulling away.

“You know not one single person has called the cops to ask where you were.  Did you know that?”

I stare at him.  I didn’t expect anyone to notice I was gone.  I just moved to that neighborhood and didn't know anyone except Uncle Jim.

“Michelle, your voice,” he scowls at me.

“I didn’t know that.”

“What’s that?  I couldn’t hear you,” he says as he takes a step away from me holding his hand up to his ear.

“I said I didn’t know that,” I raise my voice.

“That’s what I like to hear.  So why is that?” he asks slowly.  “Do you not have anyone in your family that cares about you?  Did your Mommy and Daddy forget about their poor little princess?”

I bite on my bottom lip forcing myself not to think about my parents.

“Don’t talk about my parents like that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.  Did I hit a soft spot?  I bet your parents are drug addicts and alcoholics, aren’t they?”

He circles around my chair and stops right behind me.  I can feel his breath cascade down my neck, causing the hair on my skin to raise.

“No they aren’t,” I say with a quivering voice.

“Am I sensing weakness, Michelle?” he whispers in my ear, still standing right behind me.

“No.”

“I think I am.”

“You aren’t.”

He pulls away from me quickly and I turn around to face him to prove that I’m strong although inside all I want to do is cry.

“Where’s your parents Michelle?  Did they drink themselves to death?”

“No and stop talking about them like that.”

He stops talking and bends down so that his face is inches away from mine.  “You need to speak your mind.  Guys like it when their girl can speak their own mind.  Why don’t you tell me what you really want to tell me.”