"You know I love you right?" Harry questions sternly while holding my face. "Yes." I breathe out. "Good because I'm going to fuck you like I don't." ------EXPLICIT CONTENT------

Roots from the trees go deep within the soil of the earth. Roots within us grow deep within our soul, linking us to our family, our hopes, our dreams.. Our roots lead us to our start.. they lead us to our heart. Sterling King is a girl with deep roots, and long branches that lead to nothing. Harry Styles is a boy with bright leaves, and ever growing colors. EXCERPT: "Hi." "Um... hi." "What's your name?" "Sterling...." "Well... Aren't you going to ask me what mine is?" "No...Why would I do that?" "Because I'm a stranger peaking over the fence... I thought you'd be curious." "Well I'm a stranger sitting in a tree house... I stopped being curious a long time ago. Curiosity brings nothing but trouble." "Well I'm Harry... and I'm curious about you Sterling..." "Well... stop." -------------------------- DO NOT PRINT MY WORK!!! "Roots are not in landscape or a country, or a people, they are inside you." - Isabel Allende • TW: mentions of death, and rape/sexual assault. PTSD.

*THIS STORY IS ON HOLD UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE! i'm currently writing other stuff while editing this story!!* *18+ Story Contains Mature Content* "Just as a snake sheds its skin, we must shed our pasts over and over again" - Preview: "Callen seriously where were you?" I scoff and roll my eyes, "You really think you're in the place to ask fucking questions right now?" I snap my head towards him and he sits there calm still, probably expecting my outburst. "You were gone for hours, why wouldn't I ask?" he asks again, keeping his voice low. I glance around the place and it looks like he's already made himself something to eat. "Like you actually care why I was gone" I say sarcastically while holding the cigarette in between my lips, reaching down to unzip my boots and take them off. "You know what I fucking hate Harry?" It's silent for a second until I look back at him, and he nervously replies with a 'what'. I take my jacket off and reach down to the holster in my pants, taking out one of the knives that he gave to me. I set it on the counter and look at him, "I hate when people lie to me. Do you want to know why I hate people lying to me?" It's kind of a rhetorical question, but if he can't see how mad I am then that's his problem. - ONGOING: DECEMBER 2020 - HIGHEST RANKINGS #2 in analysis #27 in harry #1 in analyzing #1 in hs #1 in behaviour #4 writing