Mr.Styles (Harry Styles)

Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Angrily, I knocked on his door, waiting as patiently as I could for him to answer. I have so many things I want to say to him but not enough words to describe how I am currently feeling. The cream door swung open; I wasted no time in barging in and standing in the middle of the room.

"Okay, to imply that I am childish and immature is one thing but to then go and do that in class in front of everyone. God." I ranted, his expression was shocked. He obviously wasn't expecting this. He stammered thinking of something to say- I could see the cogs working in his brain.

"What do you want me to say?" He asked or rather shouted, slamming the door so nosey neighbours wouldn't be able to eavesdrop on our growing argument.

"I don't know." I sighed. "I just find it incredibly insulting when you accuse me of being so small and then treat me like a child." I gritted my teeth.

"I don't treat you like a child." He denied.

"Yes you do. Do not treat me like a child if you expect me to be an adult later." I fought. "I could have handled Edwin; I am not as weak as you think I am sir, better yet, you could have ignored Edwin."

"How could I have ignored him- he was being so blatantly rude." Mr. Styles wore a driven look in his eyes.

"Yes, I get that he is such a tremendous ass but everyone could see there was something going on between us." I walked around the apartment trying to calm myself. I shook my hands and put them on the counter in the kitchen, I took a deep breath and felt Mr. Styles' presence enter- I could sense he was close when I tensed my back; I could feel his warm breath on my neck.

"What is going on between us?" He whispered causing me to furrow my eyebrows, what did he mean? I looked up to see him inches away from my face.

"I don't know what you mean?" I stared at his lips, mesmerised by their colour.

"I think you do." He said, voice loud and clear. He was wrong however, I didn't know what he meant.

"I don't." I gritted my teeth. I got a strange stirring feeling in my stomach, it wasn't sickly but it felt tingly. "I need to go." I swallowed the saliva in my mouth and darted out of the kitchen. I exited the apartment block and took a deep breath. I feel like all the oxygen has escaped my body.

I started my steady and slow walk back home; I have nowhere else to go and I need to take a shower. I have no idea what I am going to return to- shit! I left my mother with my drunken father, yes he may have run off when he hit her but it doesn't mean he abused her more when I left and I have been gone all night and day. What if he hurt her more? Would it be my fault because I wasn't there to protect her? A sudden rush of guilt flooded my whole system and nausea is taking over my stomach, what if she's been hurt again but this time worse.

I approached the door and knocked gingerly. Relief flushed though me when my mother answered the door, I gasped and threw my arms around her neck, only to be met by a fluffy robe and an almost unpleasant smell. She wrapped her arms around me and squeezed, I sighed in relied and relaxed my muscles. I pulled back and looked at her stitched up eye and the not- so- subtle bruise that's formed around it.

"Mom, you went to the hospital?" I asked, hopeful.

"Sky, I work in the hospital. It's not like I don't know how to use a first aid kit." She said a matter- of- factly. I sighed again and put my hand to my forehead.

"So where is he?" I asked, kind of pissed off. My mother has always been a strong independent woman but when I heard she wasn't going to report my father for domestic violence I knew something else was going on. She must be scared. Don't get me wrong, I love my father but when he hit my mother my respect for him was cracked in half.