Restricted (Harry Styles)

Chapter 21

ariana you fucking dumbass

sorry this is oddly spaced i hate google docs (ill fix the spacing later i can't bother with it rn or it'll mess up)

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My mouth dropped open at the sight of Harry strapped tightly and securely to a chair, various gashes, cuts and bruises littering his face and the part of his chest that was uncovered by his torn shirt. God forbid I saw what lay beneath that.

"What?" I stammered, unable to think of a coherent answer. "What's going on here?"

"Leave." Harry coughed up blood, which freaked me out.

"Oh my god." I murmured, shooting a glance at Robert.

I thought he was dead for sure.

"I'm not dead, Ariana." Robert spoke in a hushed voice, confirming my thoughts. "I'm here to give you justice, to kill this horrible man. Are you with me?"

"No." I said nervously. I would be up to it if I got to punch him in the face, but I would do no such thing as killing a person. "But can I punch him?"

Robert grinned gleefully at my request. "Of course, you can."

I forced myself to walk up to Harry. The simple action of doing so required more effort than I had expected it to. He looked so beaten down and bruised, I almost felt bad. But Harry was the true face of evil, and if I didn't have the chance to do it now I would probably never do it. "Do it, baby," Harry whispered hoarsely.

I looked at him with confusion. He continued speaking.

"I deserve it."

"No." The words flew out of my mouth without my consent. I was surprised, as was Harry and Robert, because I wanted very badly to beat the bitch nugget, but for some reason I decided against it.

"Ari," Robert called out gently, and I suddenly remembered that he was the same one that wanted me in the most sick, twisted way possible. "Remember what he'd done to you. What's he done? He forced himself onto you, he sexually harassed you, he's hurt you. It's your turn to get even."

"But R-"

"Honest to god, if you don't hurt him or do something, I will hurt you and kill him, all with this," Robert gestured to the gun in his hand. He flipped the thing on the top backwards, which gave off a 'click' sound, and carelessly swung it around on his finger.

My face paled as he said that. I had never been threatened (before Harry) like that before, and ever since, if I was threatened like that, my insides would get warm yet my skin would get cold and clammy, and I would start to sweat.

"Don't do that," I tried reasoning with him. "Violence is never the answer."

I'm such a hypocrite.

I noticed Harry was silent during the exchange between us, but I didn't realize he was whispering to me. "God, just punch me, it won't hurt."

"Actually, never mind." I interrupted, before he could start to lecture me on what was right and what was wrong. I hate Robert, I realized. "Wait, no."

I also hated Harry.

But there was no way I'm letting anyone die with blood on my hands.

"What do you mean, never mind?" Robert scoffed. "He's been nothing but an ass to you. And what have I been to you all your life? Nothing but kind."

"I've tried to be understanding, I tried to be a good father." He was seething by now, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the gun tighter, which scared me. "But since I can't be a good father, since you can't make me love you that way, maybe I could've tried a different method."