Pretending From The Start, Larry Stylinson Fanfiction.

Chapter 18 - Bleeding

Harry waited until he heard the door close to be sure they'd left before he collapsed down on the bathroom floor, beside the pool of blood he'd made moments before they arrived. He rolled up his blood-stained sleeve, surprised none of the boys had noticed the blood seeping through the cotton. 

He squinted his eyes shut as he placed a hand gently on his cut arm. Self-harming hadn't crossed his mind until Louis mentioned it. So he thought he'd give it another go, since it used to take the pain away. But that time felt different. He used to feel nothing when he used to cut before meeting Louis, and now? He's in just as much agony with it, Louis still on his mind. It was a waste of time and a waste of his blood.

His trembling hands reached down his pockets, pulling out his mobile phone. He found Louis' contact number, about to call it, when he realised Louis was the last person he'd go to for help. Instead, he called his mum. It rang a few times.

"Hello," said Anne. 

"Mum," Harry gasped.

"Harry?" Anne asked, worried. "What's wrong, love? You sound like you're in pain ..."

"I - I am," Harry cried, clenching his free fist. "Mum, I need you."

"Oh, darling," Anne sighed. "Would you like me to come over?"

"No," Harry quickly spoke. "C-can I come stay with you, Robin, and Gemma for a few nights? It won't be for long, I just-"

Anne cut across him, "You can stay for how ever long you like, Harry. But are you all right?"

"N-no," he told her, lips trembling. He looked down ashamed. "I d-did it again."

Silence followed.

"Did what?" asked Anne, scared to hear the answer, though she had a small idea.

"I cut myself again today," he sobbed. "And it - it hurts so ba-badly!"

"My Lord," Anne gasped. "How deep did you cut, Harry?"

"I ..." Harry trailed off, looking down. "I don't know."

"Do you need an ambulance?" she offered.

"I don't need an ambulance," Harry refused, standing to his feet, backing away from the blood. "I just need someone to come and pick me up."

"All right, love," replied Anne. "I'll send Gemma straight round in my car."

"Th-thanks," Harry mumbled, blood continuing to drip.

"Hang on, sweetie, all right?"

"All - all right, Mum," Harry said, hanging up the phone.

Harry found the strength to clean as much as the blood from the floor as he could, although small stains still remained. He knew it was impossible to get rid of them. He also managed to stop the bleeding, but he wished he hadn't because now he could see how deep he had really cut. It was deeper than his cuts from before. These ones were sure to not disappear anytime soon. They were like giant slits, spreading open whenever Harry attempted to move his arm. 

He heard a sudden banging at the door, his older sister's voice following, calling his name.

Harry ran from the bathroom and down the passage, immediately swinging the front door open. He and Gemma stared at each other for a moment. Then Harry found himself jumping into his sister's arms, crying his broken heart out.

Gemma held him tightly, promising she'll make the pain go away.

Like she had done before.