If Only You Knew (Sequel to Stole My Heart) DISCONTINUED

Prologue

2 months later.

-;-Sam's POV-;-

I left. I just left.

I left my best friends, the love of my life, and my job.

Looking back on it now, it was a quite stupid decision. I mean, leaving an amazing life because of one little fight? Some fight that could have been easily stopped with a simple apology.

But no, I'm stubborn and hard headed.

And I even broke up with Harry. Not even a proper goodbye. Just left a note, and ditched them. I left my cousin in tears, my best friends hurt, and my boyfriend heartbroken. I wouldn't be surprised if they hated me. I hate myself now.

Let's just say leaving wasn't my best idea. I went back to my old ways. Dancing 24/7, not eating, rarely sleeping. I'm a wreck. And all because of Harry wanting to have a good time.

I'm so stupid.

But here I am now. In London, waiting for Sara to come to our flat. Waiting for Danielle and Eleanor to run through the door and attack me in hugs. Waiting for Liam to give me a whole speach on how I'm never allowed to do that again. Waiting for Niall to yell at me for leaving Sara in tears and him to suffer without my cooking. Waiting for Zayn to say some deep meaningful quote that I wont understand. Waiting for Louis to attack me, screaming and squeezing the life out of me. And waiting for Harry, to stand off to the side awkwardly, waiting for his turn; and when it is, he'll give me a small hug and then come up with some excuse to leave. Then we'll get into some fight about what he did and about me leaving.

And then everyone will find out about what happened since I got to London.

The huge secret that no one knows about.

The secret that I pay for every day. The secret that leaves me with cuts, bruises and scars. The secret that watches me every single day. The secret that threatens to kill my friends and family if I speak of what happens to me. The secret that sneaks through my bedroom window every night and beats me until everything goes black. The secret stalker that hasn't left me alone for the past 5 weeks.

Kaleb Evans is his name. A hit-man, hired by some fan. After I left and Harry announced he was newly single, fans blamed me. And it was my fault. So one extreme fan hired someone to hurt me. Someone to make me pay through suffering.

I can't tell you how many times I've walked outside to have people ask me what happened. Ask me why I'm covered in black splotches and cuts as big as quarters. How many times I look out the window and see Kaleb watching me. Making sure I don't ask for help. But I don't dare to talk to anyone anymore, for the fear of it accidentally slipping out or them finding out is to great to risk. How many times I've tried to hint to someone what was going on and then how badly beaten I got as soon as I was alone.

I've been given 3 simple rules.

1. Don't tell a soul what happens to you.

2. Don't fight back, or the beating will become harsher.

3. Never speak to Harry Styles ever again.

The last one breaks my heart every time I come across it in my drawer. It's the hardest to follow.

It pains me to watch Harry's familiar phone number flash across my screen and I have to click ignore. I want more than anything to be able to tell him what happens to me. The fact that I'm held up at gunpoint, or face to face with a sharp knife that could cut through bone. The fact that I suffer because of his fans.

And today it will pain me the most.

Today's the day they come home. And today's the day I have to avoid Harry at all costs. I don't want to risk their lives, along with mine.

But I'd rather risk my own life than watch the person I love sit there heartbroken and hurt, confused as to why I wont even exchange a glance with him.

If only they all knew.

I could actually be happy.