Cherry Bomb |H.S|

Chapter 6.

-Anaheim, California. 1973-

HARRY STYLES

Pain.

It's all I know and feel in this moment, every moment it happens. The shooting pain up my left arm and into my entire body. My body used to jump and thrash around because of the pain, but it doesn't anymore. He learned to use leather belts to tie me down — wrists, ankles and neck.

My muscles bulge against the leather straps, my whole body on fire from the burn they cause as they eat into my skin once again. It's always once a week, it always will be once a week.

I used to scream, I used to cry, but I don't anymore. He used to have to place something in my mouth to gag me, but he doesn't anymore. I'm numb to it all, I'm numb to the pain that courses through my entire body when he straps me down.

The look in his eyes is something that I'll never forget, I always have nightmares of it. It's terrifying to look at. It's like looking into the face of death itself only it brings you out when you're almost too far gone. His eyes black and his smile menacing as he smiles down at me as I stare up at him in pain, balling my fists together to fight off any really painful moments.

My body is always covered in sweat, my bare chest, bare legs and bare arms on show for him. He loves to see the torture he's doing, he loves to watch my muscles cry out in pain under my skin.

—

-Anaheim, California. 1973-

MARY JANE MILLER

Cherry Bomb has found their new song to cover, Gimme Gimme Gimme by ABBA. It used to be Dreams by Fleetwood Mac. And yes, you guessed it, we're still roped into being the back up singers.

The sparkly jumpsuits are still on our bodies, the colours change up with what Harry is wearing. We we're missed matched in Seattle two days ago but today, we wear blue while Harry and the rest of the band wear sparkly pink outfits. We must look ridiculous behind him, TJ panicking every two seconds as he lowly sings, Ryder confidently dancing and singing his heart out while me and Amy hum along and sing high when the guys can't — we look organised but we aren't, we haven't even gotten any vocal lessons.

Last night was weird, it shouldn't be weird but it was. Harry showed up to my motel room door at a little past night fall. He was drenched in sweat, claiming he was just back from a jog, it's nothing out of the ordinary, I've seen him choose to run late at night these past few days to help him sleep. What's weird was he didn't look himself, he tried to smile he tried to laugh as we smoked a joint together in my bed before he fucked me to get out the last of his energy — it was intense and very angry. He lost his glow, he lost his yellow personality, he wasn't himself.

He wasn't my sunflower.

I brushed it off, not wanting to pry because we aren't that close yet, ignoring what we do, we aren't close what so ever. I asked if he was okay, he said he was, he was just stressed over being in a band that is expected to headline many festivals day after day after day. It was a valid answer, of course he's stressed, who wouldn't be? I just hope that's all that is on his mind.

He looks so happy. His smile is back, his laugh is bright, his skin is glowing as he dances around doing what he loves. His yellow personality is back, his golden aura is surrounding his body yet again.

He's my sunflower, the one who was a little withered last night but is now blossoming and blooming again as he does what he loves. It makes singing back here that much better watching him enjoy himself so much. Niall and Alfie are also energetic and pumped. Niall dances around and jumps with Harry as he plays the guitar and sings, Alfie stays seated, banging on his drums to the beat while singing a little. He makes up for his lack of movement by the energetic screams he lets out to the crowd to hype them up more.