Crown of Thorns

Fear stabs my heart as I hear the sound if Sam's jeans being slid down over his skin.
Ohmygod, he's going to rape me. I wail and sob, thrashing side to side underneath him but I can't escape his hold. He doesn't look at me as his fingers slide slowly up my thighs, inching towards the hem of my dress.
"Sam, Sam, don't. Please don't," I beg, still struggling to get free. He doesn't reply, just chuckles to himself sickly. His fingernails pierce through my tights and I feel him rip them all the way up my leg.
Adrenaline rips through me and I throw myself forward off the car and into his chest. One of my arms loosens from Sam's hold and I do the only thing that I can think of. I shove my hand downwards towards his hardened erection. My fingers curl around him, grabbing a hold of his penis and balls. With my nails biting harshly into his skin, I twist him and pull sharply.
Sam lets out an inhuman scream and backs away from me. I use this to my advantage and shove him off my body and without thinking about what I'm doing, I punch him in the face. Sam goes sprawling back into the asphalt, his hands holding his dick in place, his face contorted in agony.
"You bitch!" He shouts but I'm already running. I pick up my abandoned phone off the ground and sprint away from him, out of the car park and onto the road.
I hear Sam roar my name from where I left him on the ground. I don't turn around, I don't slow, I don't stop.
My face burns, my arms are bruising, I'm cold, scared and angry. My tights are ripped, I feel like I'm going to puke and I have no idea where I'm going. I run headlong down the road, away from the car park, away from the restaurant.
Should have gone back inside the restaurant, I tell myself, he won't be able to attack me in front of an audience. But now I have no audience, there's no one on the streets at this time of night. The place where Sam took me to is in practically the middle of nowhere which leads me to realise that he probably, might of, planned for tonight to go the way it has.
I don't slow as I sprint past trees and streetlights, I wipe angrily at the tears that continue to cascade down my cheeks, so stupid, so, so stupid. How could I not see? What am I going to do now? There's no houses, shops or restaurants anywhere to be seen except for behind me and I can't go back.
My legs begin to burn as I keep running, breaths becoming pants and then wheezes, I don't think that Sam is following me but I still won't allow myself to stop. I can't stop. He has a car, he could just speed up to me and grab me and that'd be that.
Why does he want to do this to me? Just to get back at my dad?
I run for what seems like an hour but must have been at least twenty minutes. Horrible thoughts of what could have happened play in my mind, the horrible things that did, replay. The icy night air seeps under my skin, embedding itself in my bones.
No cars pass me, no one chases on foot behind. My legs ache, my chest aches, everywhere aches. I look up and spot lights in the distance on the side of the road. I almost cry out in joy as I make out a 7-eleven sign.
With renewed energy that relief fills me with, I sprint on up to the petrol station. I only begin to slow when I pass the petrol pumps. I stop and bend over, resting my hands on my thighs as I gasp in air.
No Did I just attack Sam, did he just sexually assault me? Did all that, just, happen? I groan and run to the bushes as my stomach heaves as I vomit up my dinner. I keep hurling until there's nothing left, I continue to gag as my throat and stomach muscles convulse. By the time I'm done, my legs are quivering in an effort to keep me upright, I'm shaking everywhere due to the lack of warmth and shock. My head spins and I try not to throw up again.
I wrap my arms around my middle as I walk into 7-eleven. I'm greeted by bright lights and warm air. The kid at the counter stares at me with alarm.
"Hey, lady. You okay?" He asks me. I squint at him as he comes into focus through my teary eyes. He's got thick red hair that sticks up everywhere and acne. He's all skin and bones and his name tag says; Collin. He looks to be my age or possibly older.
I imagine what I must look like from Collin's view. A sick looking girl in a short dress. Ripped tights, red, wet face, bruised arms, makeup running down her cheeks. Plus he probably saw me vomit in the garden.
"C-can I just stay here for a bit, call someone to pick me up?" I sniffle, my voice barely above a whisper. Colin nods wordlessly, then frowns in suspicion, "you haven't got someone after you, do ya?"
At his words I break into tears again. My shoulders sag as I sob into my hands, why? Why me?
"Shit, look miss. You're gonna be just fine." I sniffle again and look up as Colin speaks,"I don't have to call the cops if you don't wanna." Colin bobs down behind his counter. I hear him rattling a bit with whatever he's looking for down there. When he comes back up, he drops a long hunting rifle on the surface in front of him.
"I go hunting all the time, no one you don't like is getting in here. You're gonna safe with me," Colin smiles and thumps his chest sincerely. I sob out a thanks past tears, God bless him.
"What's your name?" He asks me, still smiling sadly.
"Mia."
"Mia, there's a bathroom behind those shelves at the back there," he points and my gaze follows his finger, "that's the only door so no one else can get in. Go call someone, tidy yourself up. Whatever."
I thank him again and shuffle on over to the toilets, shutting the door behind me. I look into the dirty mirror and shudder when I catch a glimpse of myself. Sam's handprints are in a bold, angry red shade on my cheek. My makeup and hair's a mess. My lips are blue and my skin is pale and clammy. I take some toilet paper and wipe at my eyes. The tissue comes away black and I continue scrubbing at my face until there's no makeup left.
There's nothing I can really do for my hair and face. So I leave them. I pick up my phone from the vanity and scroll through my contacts. My first instinct would be to call mum and get her to pick me up. But she's with dad and if what Sam said about is true, that would mean that dad knows him which wouldn't be good, seeing as Sam assaulted me.
I scroll on past mum's contact and dial Emma instead. The phone rings and rings and I stare at the pale, frail looking girl in the mirror as I listen to it. Emma doesn't pick up and I sob in frustration. I want to try Jack but... Sam and him... they had a really good friendship. I do want to call him but I can't and that's incredibly stupid of me. I scroll on past Jack and find Harry.
I know for a fact that I didn't have his number before, he must have put it in when he had my phone last Friday night. With trembling hands, I dial him.
He picks on the second ring.
"Mia," he says smugly, "thought we weren't talking." At the sound of my name in his voice I break down. Sobs and hysterical noises escape me, relief consuming me so completely that he answered.
"What's wrong?" What happened?" Harry's tone immediately drops to concerned. Through my frantic breathing and bawling I mange to get out a few words, one of them being the name Sam.
"What did he do?" Harry's voice burning with hatred, "did he touch you?" A whimper and a sob slips past my lips and I can't seem to answer him.
"I'm going to kill him, the sick fuck. I'll make him scream, burn a hole in every part of his damned body-"
"Harry, can you come get me please?" I beg and sob, "take me to yours, I don't want to go home."
"I'll be right there, baby. Where are you?" After I relay him the information of my whereabouts, we disconnect. I shuffle out of the bathroom and up to Colin at the counter.
"Looking better all ready," he smiles and I know he's lying. I still look like crap.
I stand at the counter in silence as Colin speaks to me. He doesn't ask any questions, he just talks. It's calming to say the least, he talks about where he goes hunting and how he'd like to go to college for a further education but he has no money and is currently juggling three jobs.
The whole time I'm listening, I'm staring at my feet. I'm shaking still, the cold under my skin doesn't seem to have left, the warm air in the petrol station is not helping at all. My stomach is still churning, nausea settling in. I can't speak, my eyes are glued to one spot.
My head is still reeling to what happened earlier, tears are still welling in my eyes. Collin's deep boyish voice fills my ears and yet I don't pay much attention to it. My eyes flicker up when I hear a car pull in. Colin's hands dive for his gun and raises it expertly in the direction of the sleek black Lamborghini.
"Don't," I say solemnly and tiredly, raising my hands to stop him, "I know who it is."
Collin lowers the gun but doesn't let go of it. We both watch as Harry steps out of his expensive car. In the frigid night air I notice that I can see his breath. It must have gotten even colder out there. He's dressed all in black. Black jeans, black t-shirt. Harry's got a deadly scary expression on his face, and a handgun clutched firmly in his fist.
My heart jumps at the sight of him. He steps through the automatic doors and his gaze falls on me. Something flashes in his eyes when he spots me. Anguish, followed quickly by fury at my appearance.
"Mia," he begins and with a small cry, I fly at him. His arms open for me and they hold me as I sob helplessly into his chest. His strong arms encase me in a searing hot cage of protection and I find everything break down inside of me.
"Hey, hey," he whispers softly, his lips grazing my hair, "shush."
My cries are muffled in his shirt as the water from my eyes and my snot leaks into the material. His body radiates heat and I burrow in closer, my fists clutching at the fabric on his chest. His warmth stroking at my icy skin deliciously.
I can't stop crying, my sobs are hysterical. I was just sexually assaulted. I was almost raped- by my own boyfriend!
Harry's large hands rubs circles on my back, the handgun gone. "Shush, baby," he hushes me, his chin resting on the top of my head. We stand like this for a while, me weeping and him holding me steady, cooing softly in my ear.
"Thank you," I hear Harry tell Colin.
"It's okay, just get her home," is Colin's reply.
"I will. Thank you, again." Then Harry wraps a hand around my waist and leads me out of the the warm 7-eleven and from Colin. The frigid night air whispers over my skin and Harry and I hurry over to his waiting car. He opens the door for me and I slip inside.
The heat is up high already and I curl into the leather seat. Harry swings into the driver seat next to me and starts the engine. The Lamborghini roars to life and he directs the car out of the petrol station and onto the road.
The whole ride home was silent except for my silent crying and sniffling. My forehead is leaning against the window, my breath fogging up the glass. Harry doesn't say a word, just lets me sob it out.
I figure there must be something churning in his brain. Some idea or thought. I don't dwell on what it is however. I can't think of anything else except the look in Sam's eyes and his cruel grin.
By the time that Harry rolls the car into his garage my tears have run out. But my frantic heartbeat and uneven breathing haven't slowed or changed. Harry stops the car and gets out and opens my door for me. I almost tumble out due to the fact that I am still leaning against the window.
Harry wordlessly helps me out and I when I stand, I find my legs shaking, knees knocking together. I feel so dizzy, the room tilting sickly. His green eyes meet mine and he speaks lowly, "put your arms around me."
I do as I'm told, my weak arm entwining behind his neck. His arms slide around me, one cupping underneath my knees, one wrapping around my waist. He picks me up carefully, this time not just swinging me up like the last time he did this. He does it gently, like I'm something fragile.
I curl into him, my body yearning for his touch and warmth.
He carries me from the garage, stepping through the door just as the garage door closes behind us and the automatic light turns off. The house is quiet and warm. I don't think the other boys were here tonight. It's just Harry and I.
The lights switch on in his bedroom and Harry lies me down on the soft sheets, my weight sinking into the mattress. Normally, I think, I might have cared that I am once again in Harry's room, on his bed. But now, I don't know. All I can do is to try and think about not vomiting everywhere and all over in his room.
"I'll be right back," Harry whispers and then he disappears from view. My eyes shut on their own accord. I listen to my own shallow pants and my rapid but weak heartbeat. My skin is cold and clammy, even in this warm room. I'm exhausted but I'm too tired to sleep. I shiver still, my legs and arms quivering, my whole body wrecking with shakes.
I hear the door creak open and Harry enters the room. My eyelids flutter open when I feel him tug gently on my hand and pulls me up into a sitting position.
"Here, put these on. They've just been in the dryer, they're warm," Harry gently instructs me, his green eyes lingering on me, then he gets up and leaves again. I run my hands over the folded heap of clothes he's given me. The shirt is soft and white- his obviously. I finger the black tracksuit pants. Both are indeed warm.
With clumsy, frigid fingers, I shakily undo the zip at the back of my dress and lift it over my head. I then peel off my shredded tights, kicking the dreadful garments off the bed and onto the floor. I slip into Harry's clothes. The hemline of his t-shirt falls to my thighs, his pants, past my feet.
The smell of him and the warmth from the fabrics envelops me. Even though they completely dwarf me, I've never been so comfortable in someone else's clothes before. There's a knock on the door and I call out softly, "come in."
Harry steps into his room and closes the door behind him with a click. I notice in his hands is what seems to be a soft teddy bear and the Chinese oil that he used on my ankle once. He smiles a small smile when he sees me in the clothing, on his bed.
"Feeling better?" He asks and I just sniffle in response.
Harry climbs onto the bed and sits cross-legged in front of me. He hands me the fat teddy bear and with a sheepish smile he tells me, "it's a hot water bottle, it's Max's. I don't think he will mind if you use it."
My lips curl into a tiny smile as I take the soft, hot water bottle into my arms. Harry's gentle fingers cup my chin, his thumb tracing my smile lightly. His green eyes kind and surprisingly compassionate. My heart flutters underneath the layer of thick emotion that I was feeling before.
"There's that beautiful smile," Harry murmurs, his deep voice caressing my ears. His other hand holds my injured cheek, his fingers brush carefully over the angry red flesh. I know that Sam's handprints are still standing out clear against my pale clammy skin. The pain now a dull sting. Harry tilts my head to the side and examines my face further, his eyes hot on my cheek.
"He's going to die," his voice changes from gentle to threatening, "I'm going to kill him."
I shiver at his words, how can he say something like that? So openly and promising? My eyes drop when Harry lets go of my face to open the decanter containing the oil. He tips a small amount onto his fingers and the smell of musk and wild flowers wafts into the room.
With two fingers he smooths the liquid over my abused cheek. I whimper a tiny bit as my skin stings at the contact.
"Sorry," Harry apologises, biting his lip and holding my gaze for a spilt second, actually looking sorry. I stare at him as he touches my face. I've never really realised how beautiful he is and now that he's up close, I can see everything.
His lips are perfectly shaped, pressed together in concentration, both his dimples grooving slightly into his cheeks. His curls are a mess of course, but never have I ever seen such a beautiful mess of curls. His green eyes stare into my cheek, seeming to be burning a hole int my skin. His jaw line strong and hard.
Harry's gaze drops from my cheek to my eyes. A quick smile flashes over his face, his eyes flicker back to his work.
"What?" He asks, his lips trying hard not to smile again.
"You're really pretty," I tell him honestly, blinking when he stares down at me. Harry smiles a half smile and drops his hands, "you feeling alright, Mia?"
Am I? My face hurts, my arms hurt. I still feel sick, I'm still shaking, my head's still spinning. Oh and I almost got raped by my boyfriend.
"No." My bottom lip quivers and a tear escapes. Harry's face contorts in an expression of suffering. His long legs uncross and he slides in closer to me, his knees now resting on either side of my body. He leans forward and holds me once again as my tears fall and my shoulders shake.
My head rests in the crook of his neck, sobbing into his hot skin. I don't know where all these tears keep coming from. I just can't seem to stop . I am grateful for Harry who's arms hold me tight, rubbing my back slowly.
"It's okay, sweetheart. It's okay, shush," he murmurs, rocking me slightly side to side. I feel his face burrow into my hair, his arms squeezing around me.
"I'm sorry. I am so sorry," he apologises over and over again. I have absolutely no idea what he's apologising for, it's not like it could have been helped. It was me who didn't listen to him, when he told me to stay away from Sam. Harry should not be saying sorry. I'm the stupid one.
He withdraws from my hair and takes my head from his neck. He cups my face and leans in close, our foreheads resting against each other. He stares me, his eyes glowing with some strong emotion.
"He won't ever touch you again, okay?" He tells me, his voice sincere, "I won't let him."
I nod slightly and Harry kisses me on my forehead before returning to rubbing circles on my back and rocking me slowly.
I don't know what to do. I have to return to school on Monday to face that monster. I don't think I could tell my parents or the police. I already feel humiliated and violated enough. I might be able to tell Jack and Emma, if I have enough courage. I don't also know how to return home, questions burning in my head about dad. What did he do to make Sam act the way he did?
Through my confusion and spinning thoughts I hear Harry begin to sing.
"Someone reaching for me now. Through the dark, reaching for me now." His voice is right next to my ear, his tone low and beautiful. I had no idea he could sing. He hums long and low underneath his breath, still swaying me side to side. "You need someone to hear you when you sigh. Someone to wipe away those tears you cry. Someone to hold you 'neath the darkened sky."
I sniffle but cease my sobs. Harry's voice is wonderful, perfectly pitched and soft.
"Someone to love you more than I." My eyes flutter close and I sigh tiredly.
"Harry," I whisper softly.
"Yes?"
"You're a beautiful singer."
A chuckle, "thank you."
We sit like this for a while, Harry no longer speaking, just rubbing my back and rocking me. I wonder where this compassionate, caring guy came from? This is not the Harry that I'm used to. Not to say that I don't like it. I pull away from his hold and ask, "can I stay here tonight?"
Harry nods and I ask if I can have a shower since the oil on my face has dried and he points me to a door off the side of his room. I slide out of his warm embrace and shuffle over to the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I strip and turn the water in hot. I stand there the pouring water it for five minutes straight. My skin has turned red due to the high temperature of the shower. The cold in my bones disappearing as well as the need to vomit. Exhaustion takes over me, and I stumble out of the shower. Drying my body and hair and returning into the warm heat of Harry's clothes.
I text my mum that I'm at Emma's for the night, unable to call her at this late time. I know that she wouldn't mind that much if I did, but dad might.
When I close the door of the bathroom behind me, the light is off and I step into darkness. I carefully pick my way over to the bed where I can hear Harry breathing. Without thinking about what I'm doing, I slide in under the covers with him.
I almost moan in how warm it is. The sheets are soft and heavy on top of my body, Harry's large frame like a space heater. I curl up next to him, needing the heat. Harry's arm slips underneath my pillow and I feel his nose press against my forehead, his curls tickling my skin. His leg slides in between my knees and he throws an arm over my waist, pulling me closer.
Through the dark I can barely make out the outline of his face. I know his eyes are closed and I can feel his heart beat against my closed fists that are drawn up between us. I feel my heart rate match his and my eyes flutter close.
In his arms, in his bed, warm and sleeping, is where I am. Next door is where my hated father and my oblivious mother are. On the other side of the city, Jack sleeps unaware. A few streets down Sam pulls up to his house, grumbling and cursing, clutching his testicles and hiding his bruised face from his aunt's prying eyes.
And beside me, Harry's mind storms. Plans to punish, to kill, swarm his thoughts. Strong confusing emotions towards me churn in his stomach. And guilt clouds his head, because he knows that if I stay with him, that tonight will repeat and a terrible fate will befall me.

Notes

Sorry for not updating in so long.



all credit goes to doily