Silenced- A Larry Stylinson Story

Chapter 13- POV Harry: I'm Not Feeling Fabulous

I inhale deeply, a sweet and slightly musty scent filling my lungs. I smile, just a little. I know that scent. My eyes flutter open, and I find my face buried in a very familiar school uniform. I realize that my head is resting on Louis's chest, and the butterflies come rushing back.

He is sleeping, his body half off the couch, and I am curled up next to him on the other side, my right arm draped across his body and my head propped up gently on his chest. I look up at him sleeping. He is beautiful- so extravagantly beautiful- and he smells so, so good. I want to lay like this forever, but then Louis's eyes flutter open and we are intensely gazing at each other.

"You're a good pillow." I say to break the silence. He chuckles and lifts up his watch, pulling his uniform sleeve back to uncover the silver watch face. It reads, 4:42pm. I sigh deeply. I really need to go home, as much as I don't want to. I haven't been home in almost two days, and my mom is probably really worried.

I shift positions and wince at the use of my stomach muscles. The memories from earlier come flooding back in a wave and my head is pounding. My nose starts throbbing and then suddenly everything hurts. I sit up with a groan and rest my head in my hands.

"What's wrong, Haz?" Louis asks in concern.

"I feel like crap." I answer glumly. He summons a blonde boy, who gives me some aspirin. I sit, hunched over and in pain, as the medicine kicks in. "Oh. Niall. What are you doing here?" I ask, looking expectantly at him.

"Harry, we're at his house. I didn't think you'd want to go home right away." Niall smiles a very bright smile that could be seen from a mile away. He looks like a generally happy person, because the corners of his sea blue eyes have deep wrinkles that hint at the fact that he is always grinning. "He offered to let us come here after... everything that happened." Louis explains, and then takes a sharp breath in and asks, "Harry... What did happen?"

I sigh again as I begin, "Um- well, I went to the bathroom and then Zayn came in and threatened me and then started beating me up," I shudder at the memory. "So I ran away to the janitors closet, but then something happened- not sure what. I couldn't breathe and I thought I was going to die, so I called you, and now i'm here." I try to tell the shortest story possible so as not to relive the horrible feelings that took over my body and mind. I look up at Niall and Louis's sympathetic faces, feeling guilty for roping them into my mess of a life.

"Harry," Louis says sweetly, "you had a panic attack."

"Oh." Louis drives me home, which takes under a minute since Niall lives on the same street as me. He offers to come inside with me for emotional support, but I refuse. As much as I desperately want him to, I really have to face my mother alone.

I take a painful deep breath as I place my trembling hand on the door handle, heart full of dread and not knowing what to expect when I walk inside. I turn the knob and step in the entrance, not even bothering to kick off my shoes like Mom always tells me to. Shuffling into the living room, I keep my head down. I look up just enough to see- my Dad, sitting on the couch. I thought he wasn't supposed to get home until tomorrow. My eyes widen as I examine my family's faces.

My Dad looks angry. Tired, but very angry. His eyebrows are furrowed and his mouth is twisted down into an indignant frown. He is staring straight at me, most likely trying to intimidate me to make up for the height difference between us. He doesn't seem to notice (or if he does, he's ignoring it) my bruised and crooked nose.

My mom looks plain sad. Her eyes are droopy and staring at her lap, where her hands are fidgeting restlessly. Her shoulders are hunched over, revealing where I get my bad posture from. I wonder why she looks so sad. Her eyes glance up quickly and widen as she sees my bruised face, bloody uniform, and exhausted figure.

"Your father was discharged early." She explains quietly. "He is fine. Sore, but fine." I look over at Gemma, who is standing in the corner, for help. Her face is full of pity as she tiptoes backwards out of the room, leaving me alone with my parents.

"Is it true?" My father demands aggressively, getting straight to the point. I nod shyly and my dad's teeth grit together in enmity as he shakes his head. "My own son, betraying me like this... it's unacceptable." He remarks under his breath. "Here's what you will do, Harry. You will get Sophia to delete the offensive post, and make your own post denying the accusation. You will go to church without fail each week and pray. We will set up meetings with a therapist and we will turn you back to normal. Understand?"

As I realize what he is saying, a darkness takes over me that I have never felt before. My eyes squint in rage and I roll my shoulders back and lift my chin up. I feel... powerful- something I have never felt towards my father before. My fists clench, nails digging into my palms, and the pounding headache I woke up with returns. I ignore it and let the darkness take over my mind. 

He wants to turn me straight.

"No." I demand. My mother looks up at me in fear with watery eyes and shakes her head slightly as if to say, "Don't do this." My father's face, which is now bright red, trembles in rage.

"What did you just say to me?" He yells furiously. I can tell he wants to stand up, but can't, which makes me feel all the more powerful.

"I said no. No. No. No. NO. NO!" I repeat, getting louder with each "No." and soak in the brief glory of challenging my father. "I am not letting you turn me straight. I'm gay, and if you can't accept that then, well, that sucks for you." At this point I'm screaming. "I like boys okay? I like boys! And I'm in love with one, and he is incredible and no matter what you do you can never stop me from loving him because I love him so freaking much."

Silence fills the room. My father is angrier than I have ever seen him, even towards my mother. I slink back against the wall as the darkness and power that had just taken over my mind disappears. My father licks his lip and smirks.

"You do not speak to me in that tone, Harry. Go pack your bags. You're leaving tomorrow." What? My mind spins as I try to figure out what he is telling me.

"Huh?" I squeak.

"You're going to boarding school. You leave tomorrow." He gives me a conceited chortle. "We were considering this earlier in the year, when your grades were dropping, but you have pushed us over the edge. It's a nice school, only four hours away. You'll stay there for the whole year and come back for Christmas and..." He continues talking, but I can no longer hear him. 

"No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no." I repeat quietly, frozen. But this time, I don't say it feeling powerful. I say it feeling powerless.

I choke back a sob as I sprint to my room. I lock my bedroom door behind me and slide down it, sobs shaking my shoulders vigorously.

I thought it couldn't get worse. I thought that if I stood up to my Dad, he would start being nicer. I thought that love would be enough. I thought I was at rock bottom. I thought Louis and I were forever. But boy, was I wrong. So, so, miserably, dreadfully, stupidly, terribly wrong.

My heart hurt. More than it had during my panic attack, more than it had when I was five and had heartburn so bad I had to go to the hospital. It hurt the most. I can hear my father's voice in my head, repeating, "You're going to boarding school." over and over and over again. I squeeze my hands over my ears. It doesn't help. I open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out.

My stomach feels like there are a hundred rocks in it, my head starts pounding again, and I feel my life crumple and break into pieces in front of me and there is nothing I can do about it. I sob so hard I hiccup, so hard my stomach hurts. I taste the salty tears in my mouth, which make me cry harder.

I hate myself. In this moment, right here, right now, I despise myself. I feel awful and horrible and ugly, inside and out. I have ruined everything. My relationship, my family- everything. I feel so disgusting and my skin is crawling. I want to peel it off and be someone else, in another life- one that hurts less. One without a love that is so freaking beautiful but so irritatingly forbidden.

I feel like I am drowning in this horrible life, but I am not fighting. I am letting myself fade away and I don't even care anymore.

I want it all to stop hurting so much.

I want to die. 

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