Darling || Harry Styles A.U.

ten

"I'm sorry I ruined your plans." I muttered, finishing off another glass of wine as Lennox just watched me sadly. She had been next to me for the past two days, any plans she had of celebrating for my birthday thrown out the window at my sudden emotional state. She kept saying she didn't care, that she just wanted to make sure I was okay, but I still felt guilty.

"Don't be."

"I just know you put a lot of thought into this week and I just ended up ruining it."

"You didn't ruin anything." She said softly, watching me with a blank expression as I poured yet another glass of wine.

For the past two days I had been moping around, mostly staying holed up in my room. I didn't have the energy to see anyone or even leave the house, my mind still reeling. More and more memories came rushing back without my consent, Declan suddenly a constant thought in my mind. He and Harry were practically the only two things I could think about.

I still had yet to come to terms with the fact that my body was yearning for Harry. I didn't only want his body- the more I thought about him the more I realized I did want to know him. And that just flat out terrified me.

I had met Declan when I was fourteen- he was three years old me, seventeen at the time. My foster parents hated him, which just made me like him more. I was young and naive, believing everything he told me. Eventually my foster parents forbade me from seeing him, so I would just sneak out behind their backs. He was the only thing that made me happy at the time, promising me he would take care of me when my foster parents didn't. And at first, he did.

I was constantly getting that same concerned look from him- the same one Harry had given me the other night. For the first two years of our relationship, he held me while I cried about my birth parents, and held me even tighter when I sobbed about my foster parents. He was the picture perfect boyfriend, so when he told me he loved me, I stupidly believed him.

It was about a month after he first dropped the L bomb when he started to change. It started off slow, just getting frustrated with me over stupid things. I chalked it up to stress, not wanting to accept the fact that he was starting to spiral out of control.

The first time he hit me I had run home immediately. I was sobbing to my foster parents when they just started laughing at me. They told me I was pathetic, that I deserved the beatings that were to follow since I was such a brat. They told me I deserved every broken bone he ended up giving me, all the bruises that littered along my pale skin just proof at how weak I was. And I believed them.

I took beating after beating, my body growing weaker everyday. I started wearing hoodies everyday, hiding the dark marks on my arms from prying eyes. A couple of my teachers noticed something was up and questioned me. To this day I still wish I would have asked for help. But I was young and stupid, and took the beatings cause I really did think he loved me. He was just going through things, a rough patch that he would get over and go back to normal.

It wasn't until I was seventeen when he ended up putting me in the hospital. He had lost it one night after he and his friends had gone to the bar. I was at his apartment doing homework when he got back, one of his friends with him. Declan had gone to the bathroom, his friend sitting down a little too close for comfort. His hand landed high on my thigh, my body jumping from the sudden touch, my voice pleading him to stop. Instead, he stood over me, catching both my hands in one of his before his lips found my neck. I was crying, begging him to stop. By the time Declan came back out he had his hand down my shorts.

Declan shoved his friend, who then proceeded to blame me. He said I was begging him for it, and of course Declan believed him. I tried to tell him that I wouldn't do that... that I knew no one but him was to touch me, but he didn't believe me. The first blow was straight to the ribs, the wind sucked right out of me. I wasn't sure how long he had beat me before I passed out. By the time I came too, I was in the hospital.