Addiction. (Harry Styles AU)

Chapter Thirty Three.

I'm running.

The walls are black and covered in mold. The ground beneath me is dirty, there's muddy footprints everywhere and all sorts of nails and pieces of random materials all over the place.

Where the hell am I?!

The house seems familiar but I can't seem to place where I know it from. Maybe a scary film I once watched?

I'm still running. Why am I running?

Just as I ask myself this question, I get the answer.

"Stop running you little cunt and get back here!"

It's him.

I'd know that voice anywhere. That voice that haunts me every second of every day. That sick, twisted voice of my worst nightmare.

That's when I realise where I am. I know this house. It's my old house but it's run down and dark, nothing like it was when we lived there.

Now I'm running as fast as I can but apparently so is he. His long legs travel quicker than mine and in a matter of seconds he's right behind me.

A strong force pulls me backwards and I realise he's gotten close enough to grab a hand full of my hair and rip me backwards. His disgusting grimmy hand is still tangled in my hair while his other hand is gently placed on my hip. My back is pressed up against him so tightly it's almost as if he wants to squeeze us into one person.

"Please, don't do this.."

He laughs at my pathetic voice. It was meant to sound strong and more of a command but instead it came out weak and quiet. Like a plea, which it was, but a pathetic plea. His piercing laugh makes me cringe and he takes this opportunity to nuzzle his head into my neck. His hot breathe burns my skin and my eyes snap shut tightly to get my mind away from this situation. I want to be anywhere but here. Again.

The hand that was in my hair is now clamped over my mouth which tells me he's about to do something that he fears will make me scream. Fuck.

I was right of course. The hand from my hip is greasily sliding its way down stomach to the top of my pants where my buttons are undone and the zip is pulled down. A whimper tries to escape my mouth but his vile hand is in the way.

His dirty fingers play with the elastic of my knickers for a second, prolonging the mental torture. He loves this bit, watching me panic and plead for him to not go any further. Watching my heart beat increase to a dangerous level and the sweat begin to pour from my skin.

Suddenly is hand is pushing past the elastic and going straight down to the last place I wanted it to be. A tear leaves my eye and rolls down my cheek until it touches his hand over my mouth.

The curly haired boy standing in the doorway comes into my vision but this time he looks different. As he's walking towards me his face is battered and bruised. His lip ring is now a bar, probably to help with the swelling of his split lip. The purple of his bruised eye is clear, even in this dark light. For moment I completely forgot about the burning body wrapping himself around me, my mind simply ached for the beaten boy in front of me. If I could, I'd kiss every bruise and cut until they healed.

His hand reached towards me and his soft fingers wrapped around the back of my neck, pulling my forward into his body. My arms instantly wrapping around his toned torso, my head basically in his armpit, he shielded me from the greasy grasp of the monster reaching for me.

A strong arm clutched my legs behind my knees and lifted me off the ground. Carrying me bridal style with my arms tightly locked around his neck and my face hiding into his bruised neck, he ran and ran until I no longer knew where we were. No words were spoken, no sounds were heard. Just the beating of his heart against my chest and the light pants of his breath as the running began to tired him.