Redamancy | Harry Styles Fanfiction (ongoing)

Chapter Thirty-three

"Close your eyes
Have no fear
The monster's gone
He's on the run and your daddy's here"

Aurora Brown

There wasn't much talking last night, after whatever happened, happened. Harry makes me feel good. He makes me feel like a strong, sexual, powerful, confident woman.

Which I love.

It feels like he's woken this hunger that I didn't even know I had in me, this need to be writhing under him, to have his body move down mine so seamlessly that it feels like we're one. I love making him moan and he likes seeing my eyes roll.

But none of that is an excuse for yesterday, he let his petty jealousy control his mind. He put me in a vulnerable spot, even when he knew how important it was for me to make a good first impression.

We slept in last night, while everyone watched a Christmas movie, blamed it on the travelling. Everyone was sympathetic ofcourse, but the guilt was eating me alive.

I wake up with his arm around my tummy, my back facing him, in his childhood bedroom. Displayed on the walls are medals, certificates and pictures of harry as a child and his family.

It's a homely room, there's a small desk overlooking the window, with a small chair and a number of story books, by looking at his room you can tell he was loved as a child. A tear just slips out my eyes, out of the blue, reminding me of how I was never loved.

All night last night, I caught myself being fixated on their dining table downstairs. I spent hours just thinking about their dining table, it was a table on which they all sat down, and ate, and talked, and laughed. Like a family.

Like a family.

A concept I will never be familiar with, you could see this whole family's history on this table. It looked weared down, in an elegant way, there were cup stains on the table from not using a coaster, drawings of Harry, Gemma, Anne and Robin as stick men, and little drops of forgotten, solidified candle wax.

Big spoons, big bowls, big plates, big hearts and full tummies, is what their dining table told me about them.

How come Mia never got a dining table? how come I never got a dining table? What had we done? Why were we not important enough to have a family to eat with, a family to draw about?

Ofcourse, I had Harry now, Harry's family too but what had I done? What was so wrong in me? that my parents could never love me?

I did everything, I studied, I got good grades, I cleaned the house, I cooked for myself, I took care of Mia.

What had Mia and I done? that she never got tiny desks with tiny chairs and cars to play with?

The tears continue to silently flow down my cheeks and harry is oblivious, snoring, with his legs thrown over mine.

I wipe my tears and push Harry's legs away so I can get up.

I brush my teeth, put on warmer clothes and my robe and head downstairs. The shrill creaks of the wooden staircase remind me of unfortunate people in horror movies that never got to live beyond the 10 minute mark.