SOFT SPOT// h.s

1.0 ~ Harry

•Harry•

The sound of beer bottles shattering echoes through the house. I can hear the sound of raised voices coming from downstairs as I quickly check on Elliot, my little brother, to make sure that he is still sleeping.

Through the crack in the wooden floors, I catch a glimpse of my mother being dumped on the sofa, before my father delivers a hard blow to her bare stomach. I cover my mouth but it's already to late as I scream out her name.

As I process my mistake, my fingers tremble nervously as I wait in anticipation, knowing that I would surely be the next victim. And soon enough, I sense the heavy pounding of worn boots approaching me.

A gruff voice calls out my name and as I stand up to face my father, I can feel my heart hammering vigorously inside me. I thought he had been getting better, I thought he had learned, but he had relapsed into his abusive, alcoholic ways.

His dark eyes are cloudy and unfocused, but the vivid shade of the green surrounding his pupils is identical to mine. He runs his rough hand across the coarse stubble on his face as he smirks menacingly before sauntering towards me.

I can smell the alcohol and sickening odour of sweat and nicotine as he grabs the front of my Tshirt, pinning me against the wall. I resist the urge to gag as his hot breath fans my face, reeking of beer induced vomit.

His teeth, yellow and rugged, bare a threatening smile that is so icy, I cannot suppress the shiver that travels up my spine, making the hair on my neck and arms raise statically.

"What the hell is wrong with you boy? Eh?" He snarls, his fingers tightening around my neck.

"Dad, please," I beg him, my voice swaying although I attempt to keep it steady. "You're drunk."

"All of you miserable fuckers was makin' me mad. You all drive me to fucking drink," he spits, slime from his dirty mouth splattering on my cheeks.

I make no attempt to wipe his spit from my face, but I continue to defy him, never breaking eye contact.

"Maybe I'd jes' be best to send y'all away so I doesn't have to look at you all the damn time," he threatens, his voice starting to ramble on. "I want nothin' to do with any of you. Maybe I jes' have a drink and a fag to smoke all by myself, not havin' no damn fucker whining in my lug." His eyes went distant as his pupils dilated. "Would be fine as hell."

I feel his grasp loosening on my shirt and I snatch the opportunity to throw a punch into his gut, making a break for my room. My fingers just kiss the rusty door knob before I feel the sharp tug on my hair as I am dragged back against the wall by the man I am forced to call my father.

He presses his knuckles to his lips, kissing them gingerly before pulling his arm back and slamming his fist into my jaw. I struggle not to cry out in pain as he throws me onto the ground, swinging punch after punch to my face.

"You think you can fight me boy? Do you?" He yells right in my face, his voice bellowing in my ears, hurting my eardrums.

His hard boots hit my jawline as he kicks my head. The faint crack of the bone in my nose is slightly audible as scarlet liquid trickles down my lips. My breaths are heavy pants as I gasp for air before my father brings his fist down on me for the final time, causing me to slip into unconsciousness.

The last thing I see are the frightened, wide green eyes of my little brother, who stands is the doorway, his face twisted with shock and fear.

But then I find myself consoling my mother, whose clothes lie ripped and scattered across the floor and sobs wrack her fragile body.

I beg her to stay strong as I tell her that it's going to be alright, even though we both know that it's not.

And then the cold, acidic rain was hitting me, seeping into my skin and turning my insides to ice. I looked around me and realised that I wasn't trapped in the memories of my past inside a nightmare, I was sitting on the pavement as the torrential rain descended on me and the bright headlights of cars blinded me.

The only source of comfort I could find were the frail, petite hands that cupped my cheeks and the terrified doe brown eyes that stared into my soul, swimming with bemusement and clouded with tears.

I whispered her name, knowing she would understand because in the darkness of the night, the light of the moon reflected upon her pale skin, touching it with a sense of radiance and beauty, making Clary seem like an angel in this hell.

Her breaths were wispy, white clouds of hot vapour, evaporating in the air just inches away from me. I felt an unfamiliar feeling stirring inside my chest, something warm and comforting, despite the freezing air and hard rain as we stared at each other in silence, uncertainty in her eyes.

She gently led me back into the car and I slumped in my seat, motionless and stiff. I had no idea how I was going to explain my past to Clary, although I was aware that she already knew a lot of it. I couldn't let my guard down again, I was forced to rebuild the walls that had rarely let anyone into my heart.

A million thoughts raced through my head as I vaguely heard Clary speaking to me, but I couldn't focus on anything except for the nightmares that had been attacking me every time I closed my eyes.

I made no effort to change out of my soaking clothes as Clary pulled a clean, warm hoodie over her head, shaking her wet hair out of her eyes. Her face was flushed and the tip of her nose was red from the cold night. I suddenly realised that Clary was kind of pretty, but not like most girls. She was like a flower, small and fragile and pretty.

But this abrupt realisation scared me. I didn't want to think about Clary in that way, to remember how her pale, bare skin looked under her clothes and how her soft lips felt against mine and the way her silky hair cascaded down her naked shoulders. I didn't want to remember that at all.

Her head snapped up, catching me staring at her and her eyes met mine as if she knew that I had been thinking about her in such an intimate way.

"What are you looking at?" she asked confusedly, her head slightly tilted to the side. And there was this one small strand of hair that clung to her face and I desperately wanted to reach out and tuck it behind her ear, and trail my fingers down her smooth cheek.

"Nothing," I replied shortly, turning away to look out the window into the dark night as Clary slowly resumed driving.

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Therapy~All Time Low

Thought I'd try something different with this chapter! I hoped you liked Harry's pov, leave some feedback please!!

Tysm for 300+ reads weyhey ily
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