Stuck [H.S]

Fourteen

Harry Styles

You don't ever realize how much something hurts until you really press deep into it.

Like a deep and dark memory from your past. Overthinking every little detail and pushing farther and farther into it can cause you much more pain than it did when it happened. Or like a bruise.

Bruises hurt.

"You're cheating on me, Harry! Just admit it! Don't fucking stand there and lie to me when I know the truth."

A slap. Maybe another for good measure.

"Oh what? Now you're going to cry and play the victim like you didn't just go off and fuck some random whore?!"

Another punch to the arm. A few nail scratches to make sure I really know how badly I fucked up.

I didn't cheat. I'm not a cheater and I will never be a cheater but Eva seems to think so.

I just want to be happy and not have everything not hurt so much anymore.

It's only been about four days since I've seen Jolie and I miss her. I miss her more than anything in the world. Her gentle and kind words, the way her hair is so soft when I play with it, her fidgeting habits she does when shes nervous or anxious. Especially when she picks at her clothing or nails.

Am I a cheater? Thinking about someone who isn't my girlfriend this much?

Eva had made sure I didn't have a single body part that wasnt marked. Scratches across my arms, bruises scattered around my arms, face and sides. She made me cancel all my photoshoot gigs. She said that I could stay home and spend some quality time with her but I knew she probably thought I was having an affair of some sort at one of my gigs too.

Home.

It doesn't sound right. This isn't home. Home shouldn't be this scary and shouldn't feel like every move I make is wrong and should be punished for.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror as I get ready for bed, freshly out of the shower. Eva laid down on our bed, texting away feverishly with her girlfriends. I gaze at the small purple, green and yellow bruises on my cheeks and one on my jaw area. The slight cut on my lip kept opening due to my tongue sliding over it a lot.

I'm so tired of hurting like this.

The bags underneath my eyes have deepened in color since the incident. She took my phone away and locked it away in a box and I just knew I had to go and apologize to Jo. To see Jo.

She always made everything better.

I had to make up something to get a hold of my phone.

"Eva, is it okay if I call my mom real quick? For real this time. Promise," I question gently, scared if I said anything even remotely louder than a normal tone of voice, I would get hit or yelled at.

Her temper has become more and more sensitive these past few days so every step I took was like stepping on glass. I was scared to get cut too deep and bleed out.

"I guess but for five minutes okay?"

I nod quickly out of fear and keep my eyes on her. She stands up from the bed and makes her way around me to retrieve my phone from a box she's placed on top of a shelf above our work space. It's really just a bunch of scattered papers of bills and junk mail but we just pretend its work.

She takes the brown box down and opens the lock with a key she had tapped to the top of the cardboard. I knew this was extreme but I tried to say something about it the first time, she just slapped me and called me a whiny bitch.