Enticing Charm

I laid in bed all night and cried.

I cried and i grieved.

I grieved for my life I will never get back.

I cried for my parents.

I grieved over the life I was supposed to have with Niall.

I cried over my own stupidity.

Harry will never want me like he wants Kristen. I'm not that girl and I never will be and I will never want to be.

And I shouldn't ever feel different for a boy.

One boy of a thousand... okay maybe one boy of two.

I don't know why tonight was so hard... Maybe because Harry wasn't hear to hold me? Maybe because my foot hurt? Because Harry didn't want me? Maybe because the situation suddenly became clear to me.

I was never going to leave this house.

I sobbed harder and hugged my pillow to my chest, rocking myself.

I want to go home.

I want my mom.

I want my Niall. my Nilla.

When the sun began to rise my body was hiccuping relentlessly from my sobs and I did not want flipping Harry to see me like this. I hobbled to the shower and turned on the water before getting in.

I need to calm down.

I tried to do it. I really did but staring at the white wall for a mere five minutes made the memories and pain rush back, making my head spin.


My knees felt weak from exhaustion and I slipped down in to the shower, sitting on the white porcelain I wrapped my arms around my knees and cried again. The water was on demand so it never got cold and so I sat there and bawled my eyes out.

What the heck is wrong with yourself? Get off the floor, right now!

My subconscious yells at me. I shake my head and screw my eyes shut, suppressing a shiver.

Whats the point?

I could drown here in this tub and it would not better nor make my life any worse than it already was.

A shiver ran down my spine. How could I be thinking this way? What would my Niall think if he saw me this defeated? Or my parents? Really... how could death be a better option?

I wish I could say I shook my head and those nasty thoughts went away. But they don't and they didn't. And that scarred me even more.

It scarred me to realize i was so hopeless that I believed death might be easier than living a life time in that blue room.

I wipe my nose on my wet arm and literally slump over the edge of the tub like a slug. Kneeling on the floor I grab my towel and put it on my head while wrapping the other under my arms before yanking myself to my feet. Not daring to look at my swollen and throbbing foot. I stand in front of the mirror.

Pull yourself together.

I scold my pale and clammy reflection in the fogged glass.

Whats the point?

I challenge myself. There isn't one. Not if the one thing making me happy and keeping me hopeful didn't want me.

I pull on a bra and panties as well as a big t shirt, not bothering with pants I leave my towel on the ground in a heap. Very uncharacteristic of me.

Opening the door I'm greeted with the cold air and the green eyed boy on my bed. He quickly stands up and comes to me as I reveal myself.

"Are you OK?" he asks gently. I don't bother to meet his eyes, I just shrug and slowly make my way back to the bed where I crawl under the quilt and bury myself under the cloth.

Harry's P.O.V.

I sat out her door all night.

All fucking night I tortured myself by making myself listen to her sob.

it couldn't be because of me. No one could be that fucking sad over me. I mean, our fight wasn't that bad. I was a dick like usual but it wasn't that fucking bad.

But the cries coming from the room where pitiful and broken and that was nothing like my girl.

Your girl?

Yeah. My girl.

Not my girlfriend. But she was mine. Certainly not that fucking Niel characters.

I can't believe I aw him though... what a coincidence.

Once I hear the bed creak and the bathroom door close I take my opportunity to get up and hurry int o the room.

but the crying starts again.

How could such a tiny person cry so fucking much?

I sit on the stupid bed and sweat it out, feeling like a piece of shit, not knowing whether or not it was my fault. I want to hold her. Comfort her.

But she would push me away. She wouldn't want my touch. I groan and pull my hair. Fucking women were so mean and could make you so mad. And then the next second they cry and your heart is fucking eating shit, your at her feet wiping each tear. A whole 180.

That's why guys are so afraid of them.

They do tricks you would not believe.

When she gets out her face is pale and she had big bags under her red eyes. A look of sheer defeat on her face. I want to beat myself up. I deserve to be punched repeatedly.

I am awful

I don't think I'm the main reason she's sad but being part of the reason is bad enough. She buries her cute little self... there I go with the cute shit... under the blankets.

I stand there awkwardly, determining what to do next. I ball my hands up and decide on trying to comfort her. Getting on the bed and pulling the blanket back I find her in her black panties and my throat gets tight.

I can't help imagining stroking down her golden thighs and kissing up her stomach and neck, rubbing her through the black cloth before pulling them roughly down her hips. She would love it. I can already hear the moans she would make. I would bury myself in her, fucking lord knows I would. I -

Wait. Wait. Not the time.

I crawl next to her and slip an arm around her, pulling her to my chest. She stiffens under my touch but she relaxes when I start smoothing her hair.

I was never good at this shit but she seems OK so I take a leap and wrap my free hand in to her hers. Our fingers fit perfectly and I look for a reaction but don't get one.

I thought she liked this? Holding hands? She held my hand in the hall the other day. It was nice.

I wish she would talk to me.

But something tells me she's not ready to talk.

Niall's P.O.V.

"Well how do you know they didn't have the same case?" My uncle asks, folding his hands over the table, leaning forward towards me. I groan and drop my head on the wood.

"Because of the way he looked at me! He knew me. I know he did!" I press, rubbing my eyes.

"Niall, I can do some back up checks but I don't know what good it would do... " He sighs.

"Well should I tell the police?" I ask him, meeting his eyes for what feels like the first time. He strokes his chin and looks through some papers on his desk for the home report on the address the kid lived at.

"Depends on what I can dig up on the ...." He looks at the name on the paper. "Styles... family." He tells me. In times like this I was genuinely glad my uncle was a private detective. He sips his coffee before clearing his throat and looking at me. "I'll try my hardest to get some information but don't get your hopes up. It's a good lead but not a strong one. It could be a dead end." he tells me honestly.

I groan and drop my head back.

I know this wasn't a dead end.

I know he knows something.

"How long will it take?" I ask him.

"Hmm, a few days, weeks, I have to go through all of the crime reports on the names, transcripts, credit card bills, I have to go to the address and scope it out. It could take a while."

"She might not have a while." I grit my teeth and pull at my hair.

"Shes a strong girl, that Olivia. She'll hold up."

Lily's P.O.V.

Harry held me in bed all day, leaving once to get me lunch.


"Here, sit up and eat, Dove." he coos, kneeling in front of me as I lay on my side. I shake my head and look past him. I wasn't hungry. "Please." He pleads me, his voice thin. I'm worrying him but then again I'm worrying myself.

"I'm not hungry." I whisper, my voice rough and tired. His frown becomes deep set as he studies me.

"You're scarring me." he admits, taking a hand and placing it on my forehead, running it down my head, smoothing my hair away.

"Sorry." I whisper, but I'm not sure I'm that sorry to be honest with you.

He shakes his head and growns before joining me back on the bed, squishing me to him protectively, he smooths my hair and rubs my back. His touch would usually lift my spirits, make my sing, make me blush, bring butterflies to my belly.

But now I just feel devastated and tired.

-

I lay there all day, both sleeping and just laying there. Harry tries to get me to eat a few times but I refuse. When night time rolls around he leaves to get pajamas on and shower. Coming back in sweats and a T shirt before crawling back in bed with me.

I'm sure he hopes this a 24 hour thing. So do I.

I feel like there's a rock on my chest making it hard to breathe.

Like there is literal strain on my body.

my sadness that deep.

My heart that broken.

I fall in to a restless sleep soon enough.

Notes

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