"I don't think she knows. She probably has no fucking clue."
I wake to the sound of Harry's muffled voice speaking through the walls. I sigh and roll over in the warm, soft covers. He must be talking to someone on the phone.
"I know!" Harry snaps loudly and my eyes blink open at his tone. Who is he talking to?
I look around the room. The light isn't on but the early morning sun slips through the cracks behind the curtains, filtering small bright beams on the carpet. The clock on Harry's bedside table reads 11:36am.
I sit up and rub my eyes just as Harry walks into the run, his phone in hands. When he sees me awake he smiles, "hey."
"Morning," I mumble back, my voice still sleepy, "who were you just talking to?"
"Louis," Harry replies quickly and I nod dazedly. He's dressed already, wearing jeans and a fresh t-shirt. He walks up to the end of the bed and rests his hands on the frame just above my feet. His eyes hold mine and I wince as memories flood into my head from last night.
My continuous sobbing, my cries. The pain, the embarrassment, the shock. I drop my gaze and fist the sheets.
"Mia," Harry speaks gently, "how are you feeling?"
"Better." I try to smile at him but I don't think it looks very realistic.
"You sure?" He raises a hand to cup my cheek, his thumb running over my bottom lip. My heart flutters unexpectedly in response. "You were in shock last night."
Oh, that's what that was. The numbness, the tears, the vomiting, the relentless cold and the exhaustion. Makes sense I suppose.
"I think I'm okay." I brush my hair away from my eyes after Harry drops his hand away from my face. "I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but I need to know. What happened last night with Sam?" The name seems like it was ripped out from him, like it scalded his throat.
I sigh uneasily, I know there is no way of avoiding it. I draw my legs up in a cross-legged position and I stare down at my hands in my lap. My fingers twist and pull at each other, wringing themselves.
I speak softly about how Sam picked me up and took me to the restaurant, about how normal he had acted before he had snapped, and how incredibly terrifying he was afterwards.
"He came out of nowhere," I mumble, still not looking up at Harry, too afraid to meet his stare, "I don't know why but h-he uh, he p-pushed me against his car." I start to feel tears well up in my eyes again and I clench my fists, trying not to cry in front of him again.
"It's like he snapped or something. He kept me there. Saying that you, had gotten to me before him?" I dare look up at him in question. A shudder runs through me when I find Harry's eyes staring down at me, his green eyes seeming to have gone black with fury. His whole body still and tense, he holds my gaze and slowly nods once, not to confirm my question but for me to continue.
"He wouldn't let me go, he started threat-threatening me and when I screamed, he screamed with me because he knew that no one would hear us." My voice is all breathy and high pitched and I hate it. My palms are growing sweaty and my heart's pounding away inside my chest. And yet Harry says nothing, he just... watches.
"Then he ripped my tights and pulled down his pants," My voice breaks and I try speak quickly due to my utter humiliation and embarrassment. I feel my face contract in pain at the fresh memories. The mattress dips under Harry's weight as he climbs over the end of the bed frame to get to me.
"It's okay, you're safe, sweetheart." His arms reach out for me and I find myself climbing into his lap. He holds me tight as my arms wrap around his neck, my breaths becoming choppy and shallow. Then to my horror, I begin hyperventilating.
"And- and he was gonna r-r-rape me and I couldn't think and so I-I grabbed him there, and I twisted and yanked really hard. I was so scared and so I ran a-away from him and the restaurant which was really, really stupid." The tears that I tried to keep from falling, trickle down my cheeks. I can't breathe and I don't think about what I'm saying, I just speak.
"I ran fff-for ages down this road and no one came past or saw me. That's when I spo-spotted the petrol station but I threw up in the garden and Colin saw me. B-but he was really nice and let me stay there until someone-one c-came and go-t-t me." With my head buried in Harry's warm neck and my legs wrapped around his middle, he rocks me side to side, cooing softly in my ear. I know it's not good for me that I'm talking about this and crying but I can't seem to stop the words from falling out of my mouth.
"Colin told me that he goes hunting and pulled out this-this really big rifle and said-d that no one was gonna get in that I don't want coming in. And then he told me that he's wor-working three jobs and that he wants to go to college but doesn't have enough money and he was really nice," I sob, unable to stop my body from shuddering.
"Then you came and got me. But what really creeped me out was that Sam kept saying weird things that didn't make sense-"
"What did he say?" Harry cuts me off, I swallow the bile building up in my throat. "He started talking about my dad, he said, that he-he killed his parents."
At Harry's sudden lack of reaction I pull back, away from his neck to stare at him through watery eyes, "but my dad would never do that! He doesn't kill people. He's in business manufacturing! I told you that, remember?" My nails are cutting into my skin, my fists are that tight.
Harry sighs and runs a palm down his face, "You're dad hasn't got anything to do with business manufacturing."
"W-what?" I stutter and then sniffle. He sighs again and looks away from me.
"This is going to be hard to hear, but your dad has murdered families before."
I frown and shake my head in disagreement, "no-"
"It's the reason why Sam went after you, it's the reason why he was so fixated on hurting you. He wanted revenge on the man that killed his family, and because your father is so incredibly untouchable, the only way through him is through you, his family." Harry's voice hardens and eyes are burning as he looks at me.
I'm in a state where I can't argue back, my emotions are so raw that they confuse me. I just stare at him in disbelief.
"I- I." I don't know what to say so instead I stare down at my fists resting in my lap, "how is this real?"
The strange phone call is the only evidence that this makes sense. And how would have I not known? That my own father is corrupt and is killing families?
"He's an evil man and I'm sorry you have to live with someone like that," Harry tells me, his tone completely void of emotion.
"H-how?" I can only say again. I don't even know what to believe anymore, how can I even be considering the possibility!?
"Dad, he doesn't kill people does he? He can't, he doesn't." I shake my head but I don't think that I'm even believing myself now. Harry's gaze is burning into my face, my skin feels as if it's on fire.
"He, himself doesn't kill people, he doesn't need to. He is too fucking wealthy to even bother getting his hands dirty. He can just say the word and the scum working for him will do it." Such fury and and hatred seethes underneath his words and I look up and ask Harry with uncertainty, "he didn't hurt your family did he?"
His eyes hold mine for a heartbeat and suddenly I feel very uneasy.
"No," Harry finally answers, "but I know friends that have had their families killed and slaughtered in front of them. Your father's a vile man, evil."
I gulp, not used to these hateful words directed at dad. It wouldn't make else for Harry to make this all up, what would that prove? What would be the point? I don't even know what to think anymore.
Dad's never around or at home but that's because he's working, right? Not because he's ordering executions and planning to slice and dice families. He works in a big office in a tall building in the city. I've been there, I've seen the beautiful view from his window. So what? What's that supposed to be, a rented room? No, dad wouldn't go to that extent of hiding that big a secret. Would he? If the secret is really that big?
"Why?" I choke out, why is he doing this? Killing people for no reason? Harry just shakes his head and doesn't answer. He tugs me back into his chest and tucks my head underneath his chin, squeezing me gently and rubbing my back.
"I'm sorry, but I don't know."
I sniffle as the rest of my tears leak out of my eyes. "Was Sam in a gang or something?" I feel Harry freeze around me, he then pulls away from me and asks, "how did you know about that?"
So it's true, I think glumly. I was dating gangster. I want to laugh at the whole situation but I don't think I can even manage to smile at this point. I shrug. "He told me that you were in a gang, and I overheard Dad talking about them."
"What was he saying, who was he talking to?" Harry's tone is full of warning and suspicion. I shrug again. "He was talking to someone on the phone, talking about a new gang or something."
A muscle ticks in Harry's jaw and I find myself wanting to ask if he's in a gang and if he has anything to do with this whole situation. He was holding a gun last night and I want to know where he got it from, but I'm afraid I will offend him by giving him the impression of distrust on my behalf. I don't want him thinking that I'm ungrateful for his care.
I clumsily unwrap my legs from around his middle and slide out of his embrace. I step onto the carpet and stumble away from him, but before I can make it out of his arm's reach, Harry stops me with a large hand capturing my bruised forearm.
Without meaning to, a strangled cry of pain rips from me. Agony explodes from where Harry has it clasped not at all tightly in his hand. My head whips around to see Harry's eyes widen in realisation of what he did. He stands quickly and immediately lets go of my forearm only to slide both of his hands up my arms, turning them over gently to examine the fresh purple finger shaped-like bruises blooming under my skin.
Harry swears under his breath and I just whimper. Another mark left on me by Sam, yet another reminder of what happened last night. Green eyes flicker up to me, rage burning in the emerald depths alongside something sweet and compassionate.
Without a word, Harry walks to the bedside table where the Chinese oil in the decanter is placed. He turns back to me, tipping some of the scented oil into his hands. Carefully, with my left arm, he lathers and massages the oil into my marked skin. I try not to wince, chomping down on my bottom lip when he accidentally presses too hard. He lets go of this arm and does the same thing on my right.
He steps back when he is finished and I drop my arms to my sides.
"Thank you," I murmur quietly. "I don't know how I'm going to face him on Monday."
"I'll be with you, by your side. You don't even have to look at his face, if I'm gonna be there." Harry tips his chin up and he steps in close to my body, close enough that I have to crane my neck to see him. He holds my gaze strongly, a sly smile playing with the corners of his lips.
"I'd kill him if it weren't illegal. But I don't care really, I'm a criminal anyway."

~~~

The house is silent when I walk through the front door. I made sure to walk back home after I saw my father's car back out of the drive and accelerate down the road.
Inside the warm house, I lean against the door and rub the heel of my palms into my eyes. I feel disgusting, I told Harry to burn those tights and dress. Never again will I want to see or wear those clothes again after last night. So I'm still dressed in Harry's clothes and my mouth holds a yuck taste.
He was joking just before I left, saying that he thought my mum would strangle me coming home in boys clothing after staying the night at 'Emma's'. He insisted that the better decision would be to go home naked seeing as my clothes were already thrown out. He said that it wasn't a big deal seeing as he's already seen me naked before when he once watched me get changed through my bedroom window. However, he did tell me to watch out for old Mr Bell across the road as Harry had heard that he's a true pedophile and that he steals girl's underwear from off people's clothes lines. Especially underwear with pink polka dots on them.
I left very quickly after that comment.
"Mia, is that you?" Mum shouts from the living room.
"Yeah, just got in." I quickly dash up the stairs and change out of Harry's clothes before she can see. I stash the t-shirt and pants into my draw amongst my clothes, reminding myself to wash them and give them back as soon as possible.
I don a warm hoodie and jeans before heading back down. Mum smiles up at me when I enter the room. She's on her laptop, her reading glasses perched upon her nose.
"Hey, you just missed dad." Her eyes flicker back down to her screen.
"Yeah, sorry. Har- we slept in." I correct myself quickly, remembering that mum thinks I was at Emma's for the night. Mum smiles at the screen. "How was your date?"
My gaze drops to the ground and I stare at the carpet. "Good, it went fine. I- I broke up with him," I find myself saying. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice that mum looks up, completely surprised. Sam was my first boyfriend, we barely dated for three weeks.
"Oh?"
"Mm," I respond without looking up, "that's why I went to Emma's... I wanted to talk to her about it." The lie feels bad on my tongue, making my whole mouth taste even worse.
"Why'd you dump him?" Donna asks and I shrug. "Just found out he wasn't a very nice person." Mum smiles again, her eyes twinkling through her lenses.
"Then you go ahead and dump him. Mia, if any boy makes you feel bad about yourself or does something to you that you don't like. You come get mamma bear, I'll whip his ass into shape."
I laugh, knowing that she has no clue how relevant that sentence was to my situation. Mum thumps her chest and gives me a peace sign and a pout. "I got chu."
Stifling giggles, I thank her then ask what she's doing.
"Oh, I'm sending an email to Jo. Remember Jo? She moved away but she knew you back when you were younger."
This sparks a question that I've been meaning to ask her in a while, "hey mum." I lean against the door jam and cross my arms over my chest. "I've been talking to Harry and he seems to remember something that I don't. Before the Styles moved away, I was in hospital?" I add on the question as I want to pretend that I don't already know what happened.
Mum looks at me over her glasses. She blinks once and then straightens up, remembering. "Oh yes!" She pipes up, "yes, yes! You had taken a nasty hit to the head and were in hospital for a week. Harry and his family moved during your stay."
Mm? She said nothing about me drowning, I think. "Harry said something about me drowning? Down at the docks, that's where I hit my head wasn't it?"
Mum frowns now, "drowning? You were so afraid of water that you never went anywhere near it. We took you down to the docks once to go see the boats and you hated it! No, you hit your head outside in the backyard, playing on those rocks."
What? I step back and drop my hands, Harry was lying? What? This makes no sense.
"Are you sure?" I ask
"Of course, honey. Don't you remember?"
The funny thing is, is that I do.
Like a memory that's been sleeping all this time, hidden under a mental blanket. A memory that wakes, yawns and stretches. 12 years ago it was a sunny day, I was jumping rock to rock outside in the backyard. I was standing on a small rock, balancing on the rough surface with my arms stretched straight out, hands facing down towards the ground like a tightrope walker. A large, grey rock loomed before me, challenging me.
I barely noticed the wide gap between us. I took a step back, dropping my arms and then race forward, leaping at the drop of my small rock. For a second I flew peacefully through the air, my foot found the edge of the larger rock. But the slop was too steep and my foot slid out of my sandal. My weight slipped forward and I was falling down and the surface of rock was rushing up.
I remember squealing in fear and turning my head just as the rock met my skull. There was a sickening crack and then things went dark.
The memory chills me to the bone, never ever has it been there before. It seems alien and unfamiliar- and so, so very real.
"Yeah." I sound distant and unsure.
Was Harry lying? And if so, why? If I never drowned, if I never went to the docks that day then how did Harry know where my scar was? On the right side of my head on my temple is where he said my scar was, and it is. How would he know the exact place of where the scar is if he wasn't there? If he came in and saw me in hospital I would have had my head bandaged, he couldn't have known the exact place of my scar by that.
So what then?
I back out of the room, my head spinning, thoughts and questions like a mini hurricane in my mind.
"Why is this happening to me?" I grumble as I make my way upstairs to wash out the disgusting taste in my mouth.

Notes

All credit goes to the author doily