Handcuffed To An Idiot

Ten:

         "Would you hurry up, already?! Someone's going to hear her." Someone groaned grouchily. I slowly took a step forward, gasping as I saw them in better light. One Direction was standing in a circle with Harry holding my mother to a wall. All eyes turned toward me as my heartbeat sped up and I stepped backward, falling over a pile of trash.

        "Stop! Don't hurt her!" I screamed.

        But all Harry did was smirk. And then the worst part happeded. "Say goodbye to Mommy!" He winked, before slicing her throat.

        "NO!" I screamed, running to my mother who falls limply to the ground. "MOMMY! MOM, NO!" Tears run down my face like a river rushes and I scream at the boys who stand and smirk. I held onto her body and cried, holding her tightly. But then someone yanked me upward and held me tightly against the wall.

        "It's your turn!" Harry smirked, bringing the knife upward slowly so as to gain suspense.

        "No, no, no, no, no!" I repeated, crying even more, now.

        "VANITY!" I jump as I hear someone shouting my name. I slightly open my eyes to see Harry and scream.

        "Don't touch me!" I scream, my face wet with the tears I cried in my sleep.

        "What? What's wrong?" He scoots closer to me, reaching for my arm, but I pull away, still frightened. Why would I ever dream something like that?!

        "Don't touch me!" I push myself against the bedframe, but Harry pulls me into his arms.

        "Hey. Hey . . . It was just a dream . . . It was just a dream." Harry whispers.

        "Only partly . . . " I mumble, feeling the familiar ache in my chest.

        I hear Harry suck in a sharp breath and sigh, his breath fanning over my hair. "What was your dream about?" He quietly asks.

        "My mother." I whisper, pulling back and playing with my fingers. I can't help but to keep glancing at Harry's huge hands that are just inches from mine.

        "You miss her, don't you?" He asks. I just nod. We sit in a long silence until he shifts his weight and begins to speak. "Tell me about her."

        "She was my best friend . . . We'd gone through everything together and told each other everything. After my father left when I was only three, we were alone in the world. I was going to have a little sibling, but she had a miscarriage before we could even find out the gender. We did everything together, and spent most of our free time doing best friend things, rather than mother and daughter things. And when my school best friend died, she took me to your concert . . . It was the last . . . it was the last thing we ever did together." I struggle to finish my sentence as I cry.

        I slowly reach over to my phone and pull it off of the night stand, turning it on and showing him my screen saver. It's a photograph of Mom and I right before we went inside the concert. We were at a hotel only five minutes away from the stadium, Standing in front of a mirror in the bathroom, grinning like idiots. Harry suddenly stiffens beside me. He doesn't move a muscle as he stares at the photograph. "Sh-she was v-very pretty." He mumbles. "You l-look just like her." He looks away, seeming like he's holding tears in along with a bit of anger and something else I can't quite desipher.

        "Thanks." I mumble.

        "We . . . Um . . . We should probably get some sleep." He says, laying down and turning away from me. What is wrong with him? I tell him about my mother and that I dreamt about her death, and he acts like it happened to him?! Weirdo! Jerk!