Swim Good || Harry Styles Romance

Prologue - Something Feels Off

Year: 2000

Height: 4'7" 

Sex: Female 

Eye Colour: Green 

Hair Colour: Dark Brown 

D.O.B.: July 31, 1994

My mother, standing in front of her body mirror in a long and black Gucci brand dress, chewing off her freshly manicured red fingernails. I hadn't seen her this nervous since she sent in her newest and freshest poem into the New York Times. She steps away and smoothes her hands down the lengthy dress, seeming to go on for infinity until you see her feet.

"Damn it," she murmurs, "something feels off."

She quickly snaps her fingers as if an imaginary lightbulb flickers on above her head. she jogs carefully, as if she's one of those cliché lifeguards running toward the bay. But instead, to the bathroom. She smells of Chanel No. 5 and cigarettes. What a spectacular combination. She came back into the room with bright red lipstick applied delecately to her lips.

"Lottie, your mother was meant to be a very famous woman," she tells me before giving my forehead a soft kiss. She fluffs her hair elegantly. "That damn Jane," she huffs, "she makes it look so easy!" She pinches her lips upward and applies a pink blush to her cheeks in a way to accentuate and compliment her cheekbones. People have always reminded her that she looks like a queen, and that I'm her princess. I can't stop looking at the shoes she's wearing. The fact that she nearly lives in flats and is wearing treacherously tall and shiny stilletos, it's like she's towering over me. She only ever wears her big shoes when she's doing something important, so I've always associated them with feelings of neglect and resentment. I don't want her to leave me tonight. My imaginary umbilical cord is still attached to her. I feel shaky and out of breath. I'm almost hyperventilating.

"Okay, I know the problem now," she says proudly, "Lot, would you like to come with me?" I just nod curtly. Her mouth curls into a polite grin, and she just tells me to put on my long and flowy red dress. I pull my wolf sweater over my head and slip out of my jeans to pull my gown over my head. "Mommy, will you please help me zip it up?" She immediately comes into my room and zips it up, pulling my hair out of the dress. "You look so darling. Want some make-up?" I smile and nod, grabbing ahold of her hand to walk back into her bedroom, where she applies a small amount of mascara and lipstick onto my face.

+ + + +

Height: 4'11" 

Sex: Male 

Eye Colour: Green 

Hair Colour: Dark Brown 

D.O.B.: February 1, 1994

"Harry, come sit in mommy's lap!" I climbed in her lap slowly and carefully as the car sped through the city. The police were chasing us and my mother was a free-spirit. Giggling and clearly drunk, she stuck her hands and head out of the window. She threw up her middle finger into the air. The police were right on our tail, but my father just sped up.

120 miles per hour is what the speedometer read.

I wasn't scared. Was I? I wasn't. I had this inner battle in my head, which was gratefully (maybe not so gratefully) interrupted by a heavy impact. I felt what seemed to be the weight of the world on my entire body and something dripping on my face. It smelled and tasted metallic. Blood? I didn't have the time to finish my thinking when I fell into unconsciousness.

I woke up sometime later. I wasn't sure how long it'd been. I woke up in a white room filled with cabinets and it smelled clean. I listened to the sound of repetitive beeping. I couldn't have been alone in the room, as I heard muffled noises; a man and a woman.

"What should we do, Nathan?" The woman.

"Take him into custody. Child protective services will take care of him." What? Child protective services? I've heard about them before. My dad always talked about how big of assholes they were. My mom would call them bastards or call them fucking assholes. Apparently, they've been trying to make me away for quite some time now. Where were they, my mother and father?

"Oh, Harry, dear, you're finally awake!" The lady spoke again, rushing over to my side and resting her hand on my forehead. Who is she? "I'm Nurse Laura, love. You're in the hospital." I looked around the room suspiciously, taking in all of my surroundings. I loved hospital offices, I had always tried to get into the white room as often as I could. Even if it required playing sick. I loved the white jackets, and the business formal wear. I loved the nurse hats, and the polite receptionists.