Bring It, Bitch ➳ Harry Styles {completed and editing}

Chapter 56: Are You an Assassin With a Pet Zebra?

Rayla's POV

I was majorly stalling and I knew it. My dad had already left me alone for nearly an hour and I still wasn't quite ready to face my mother.

Was there anything else she was hiding from me? For all I knew she was leading a double life where she ran a company but she also was a professional assassin for the Serbian government and she kept a pet zebra named Bob.

Strange, I know, but finding out that my mother was a bad ass gone businesswoman was a lot to take in. Anything seemed possible to me at this point.

I could hear faint voices downstairs, but I couldn't decipher any of the words. I sighed and got up from my bed, having not moved from that spot since my father came in. I slowly made my way down the stairs, hearing the voices hush as soon as I got to the bottom. I turned the corner and saw both my parents sitting on the couches in the living room.

My mother's eyes bore in to me, but instead of their usual authoritative coldness, they held a look I had never seen cross my mother's face: anxiousness and fear. "I'll leave you two alone," my father said quietly, standing up from the couch. My mother looked like she wanted to object and beg him to stay, but my father had already disappeared into the kitchen and out of sight.

The air in the room felt heavy with tension, making me squirm uncomfortably. My mother looked as equally unsettled, but she spoke up before I could. "I suppose we should talk, then."

"Is there anything else you're hiding from me?" I asked, getting straight to the point. "Perhaps your ties with the Serbian government as a contract killer or your pet zebra Bob that you keep in the basement?"

My mother snorted loudly, then smacked her hand over her mouth. "Pardon, I didn't mean to snort," she said, resuming her proper and professional demeanor. "And I don't mean to brag, but I believe you got your vivid imagination from me."

"So you don't have a zebra then?"

My mother allowed herself to smile and she chuckled a bit. "Oh, what? You have teeth? I don't think I've ever seen you smile so wide," I teased.

Once my mother stopped laughing she regarded me thoughtfully. "You know, you've really picked up quite the attitude lately." She titled her head and gave me a pointed look. "I truly wonder where that came from."

 I was silent as I took a seat on the couch opposite of her. "I think you know where," I countered, wishing that she would just say it so I wouldn't have to.

"You've been hanging around Harry?"

"Yes."

"Even when I asked you not to and you said you wouldn't?"

"Yes."

"I'm not surprised," my mother sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"You shouldn't be. After all, you apparently have quite the past of rebelling," I shot back, remembering that I wanted answers. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"It's not that easy, Rayla," my mother said flatly, running her hands through her blonde hair that was out of her usual bun. "Trust me, if anything were that easy, life would be a cakewalk."

"Just because sometihng's not easy doesn't mean you shouldn't do it," I argued, crossing my arms over my chest. "It's like I'm seeing you in a whole different light now, not the puppet master who was pulling the strings in my life."

A frown made its way onto my mother's brow. "What?"

I wanted to take back everything I had said so far and go hide in my room, but everything was now out in the open. I had to finish this. "There's no other way to put it," I began, my voice wavering slightly. "You're controlling. You control my life."

"I'm not that controlling; you make your own choices!" She exclaimed indignantly.

"I make the choices that you intimidate me into making," I said softly. That sobered her up. She pressed her lips into a tight line and folded her hands in her lap. "Here's a way to think of it: my life is your company, you're the CEO and I'm an office worker in a crummy little cubicle who has to go along with everything you want." I was surprised at my own analogy. It was accurate as hell and it seemed that my mother could see that now.

She bit her lip. "Is that really how you feel?"

"It's how I've felt for a while."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"For the same reason that you didn't tell me about your past; it wasn't going to be easy. But I suppose I should have listened to my own advice." I chuckled, smiling bitterly. It's taken me quite a while to finally listen to myself, huh?"

"About as long as it's taken me to finally listen to my daughter." I looked up to see my mother's normally stoic face filled with regret, guilt and a hundred different emotions I couldn't put my finger on. "I just-I didn't want you to make a mess of your life like I did. I was lucky to get out of the situation I was in; but I was scared that if you fell into the same circumstances you might not be so lucky."

My mother got up from the couch and closed the four feet that separated us. She sat down beside me and caressed my cheek. Her touch left tingles in my skin, making me feel warm inside. "As much as I love your brother, a daughter is different. Our bond is different. Believe me Rayla, you are undoubtedly similar to your father, but I see plenty of me in you. You've got just as much of a rebellious streak as I do."

"I do, don't I?" I laughed, fighting back the tears that were starting to prick the back of my eyes.

"You just need someone to bring it out," she said softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. I immediately knew that she was referring to a certain boy with curly hair. "I should have trusted you more. I know you'll make better decisions that I did, but it's hard to let go of my baby girl and let her make her own decisions, no matter how capable she is." She wiped away the tears that were starting to slowly roll down her cheeks, taking her eyeliner and mascara with them.

I chuckled softly as black streaks appeared on her face and brought my hand up to wipe them away. My mother giggled as well and fanned her eyes to try to stop her tears. "I know, Rayla...I know it may seem like I really don't care for you or that I don't think of you as a person, but I really do. I really do."

"I know, I-I forgive you," I replied quietly, feeling tears leaving my own eyes. She smiled gratefully before her face crumpled and she pulled me into a bone crushing hug. I nuzzled my face into her neck, inhaling the same perfume she wore when I was little. The scent was comforting, reminding me of the times when she used to come into my room to tuck me in and read me a bedtime story.

After a few minutes we pulled away, both of us now full on crying. Soon we both had our makeup smeared across our cheeks like warpaint and were giggling over our appearances. When we finally regained our composure my mother wiped the remainder of her makeup from her eyes regarded me with an expression I had never seen her wear before. "I love you, Rayla."

I wrapped my arms around her small waist and hugged her tightly, smiling as I felt her own arms wrap around me. "I love you too, mum."

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