Can you see me? | L.S |

II Chapter eight

POV: Harry Styles

"It's not what it looks like..." I tried.

"My eyes do not lie." My mother says angrily.

"Mum..."

She comes to me and turns me on my back.

"You have to listen to me! Why the hell don't you listen to me Harry!"

She starts hitting me. Everywhere.

"I know what's best for you! This is what's best for you, you have to fucking respect that!"

"S-stop... please," I beg.

"This one here is for being rude," she says while giving me a knee in my stomach, "this one for not listening," she says while giving me a punch on the nose, "and this one for fucking listening to ME! Do you understand that!"

"S-stop..."

"Did you get that Harry Styles!"

"Y-yes..."

"Again! Yes what?"

"Yes Mum."

"Good. Now follow me."

"What?"

She puts me roughly in my wheelchair and in painful silence we go downstairs, too scared to talk.

"Mum? Where are we going?"

She doesn't answer but it becomes clear as we drive into the basement.

"Mom, no. You don't have to do this!"

"You're the one who doesn't listen," she says calmly.

"MUM! NO!"

She drives me into the basement and locks the door behind her.

"So Harry. My spoons were already a bit sticky this evening. Did you manage to get the remote control after all?"

I ignore her.

"Going against me is strictly forbidden. You know that!"

I remain silent.

"If you don't want to listen, you just have to feel it. Have fun here for the next two days, sweetheart."

"What?"

I look at her anxiously but she walks out the door and locks it again. Do I seriously have to sit here for two days? There's not even a bed here!

Defeated, I put my hands in front of my face and started to cry. Why am I not allowed to do anything?

I have been alone all my life. It has never gone that far, she has never locked me up anywhere before. Yes, in principle I have been locked up all my life but this is different, of course.

And then I start to think that maybe I was designed to be alone.

As I look around the cellar for a decent place to sleep, a green box with my mother's name on it catches my eye.

I want to roll my wheelchair over to it, but it won't reach the box. How can that be? I look at my wheels and see that she has tied a rope to my wheel!

That son of a bitch.

Determined not to give up, I climb out of my wheelchair and crawl over the ground to the box. It's hard because my legs don't cooperate, but I get there.

I have just reached the box when I suddenly run out of air.

No, asthma, not now!

Fiercely searching for air, I reach into my pockets for my inhaler, but it is nowhere to be found.

Come.... on... where are... you...

I begin to see little black spots before my eyes from the lack of air.

Fuck, come on...

The black continues to take over my vision but I'm not ready to give up yet.

My hands hit my trouser pockets hard, hoping to feel something hard that will be my salvation. But in vain, I feel nothing at all.

"Mom!" I shout as loud as I can, gasping for air.

No reaction. Of course there isn't.

With my hand on my chest I try to make the pain less, but I can't. I get more oppressive by the second and I feel myself getting dizzy from the lack of air.

When I feel myself almost sinking, I feel something hard in my pocket. My inhaler!

I grab it as fast as I can and take a deep breath. The blackness slowly fades away and my breathing returns to normal.

Pff... Just in time.

I take the box and put it on my lap. Carefully I open it. I see that the pills she gave me are in it. With trembling hands, I pick it up and read what kind of substance it contains.

Caution, contains neurotoxin. Do not give it to humans.

What?

Do not give it to humans? What am I, a foreign creature?

Completely in shock, I stare at the jar in my hand.

What the hell are you?