Ephemeral //H.S

Chapter 24

-Harry Styles-

"What do you mean it was you?"

"November 23rd, I was at UCLA." She answers, looking down at her hands as she bites on the inside of her cheek, her back against the headboard as she sits next to me.

Yeah I know, I saw her school records.

"What were you doing there? In the woods?" I frown, looking at her as she avoids looking at me.

"That's where Finn found me." She speaks quietly and I can tell she's hesitant to tell me more, but the selfish part of me wants to know more. Her chest expanding rather quickly when she takes a deep breath.

Where he found her?

"Belle, baby talk to me." I take her hand to grab her attention and she turns on her side, leaning her shoulder against the headboard.

"That's when it happened.. and Finn found me there afterwards." She says, and it feels like my chest is being ripped open. I swallow harshly when she finally looks up into my eyes with her big watery blue ones.

Oh fuck.

I exhale a struggled breath, my jaw clenching as I try to remain calm.

"I don't remember it, well I do remember Finn, kind off.. But I don't remember IT happening."

"What do you remember?" I ask softly and she squeezes my hand, leaning forwards to rest her forehead against my torso, my eyes closing I rest my hand on the back of her neck, stroking her hair as my chin rests against the top of her head.

"Finn briefly, when he took me to the hospital right after, therapy.. and other stuff.." She mumbles against me and I nod even if she can't see me.

I think I hear her sniffle but I don't say anything, mostly because I know I'm the one that did it to her. I'm the one who asked, I asked her to tell me about it and she probably didn't want to remember all of it. So I tighten my arms around her, hoping that it's helping her in some way but probably not, because she's crying again, but this time it's my fault.

Deep down I'm wondering what she means by "it", if he just touched her, or if he.. but it doesn't matter. I shouldn't even be thinking about that because that doesn't matter and it shouldn't, the only thing that matter is her. She was assaulted, and the act itself isn't a matter that should be questioned. Because it still happened, and it happened to her.

"I'm sorry this happened to you..." I finally say after a while, but my brows knit together when I don't hear a response.

"Baby?" I ask, and still nothing. I then notice the sound of her quiet and even breaths, feeling it hit the skin of my neck, and then see her arms limp at her sides and no longer holding onto my shirt. I sigh, looking up to the ceiling briefly as I stroke her hair one last time and slowly lean forward to make her lay on her back. I prop her head on her pillow and remove her socks, smiling to myself when I see a yellow and a sparkly purple one. I guess she couldn't be bothered to make them match.

I bring the covers over her and stay sited for a moment, my eyes analyzing her sleeping face. Her eyebrows are slightly furrowed, I guess that even in her sleep she doesn't seem to get a break. Eyelashes wet and clumped together by her tears, flushed cheeks and pink lips slightly parted to allow her breaths to escape. I lean forward to gently press my lips to her forehead, brushing away a strand of her from her face and finally getting up from the bed.

It must be exhausting for her, having to think about it, having to talk and say the words out loud. But I'm glad she opened up to me.

I look around the room for a few seconds until I find what I was looking for, grab the small notepad and write a note down so that she doesn't freak out in the morning when I'm gone. I place it on the bedside table and turn the volume down on the tv so it doesn't wake her up, and with that I leave her room.