Matilda: A Harry Styles Fanfic

are you free on thursday?

Warnings: physical and verbal abuse, fighting. Please check the description for further trigger warnings for throughout the book.

Disclaimer: I know that Love on Tour did not come to London in September 2021, but for the sake of the story, let's just pretend that it did.

"Sissy, mommy and daddy are yelling again." My little sister says from my doorway. I may be 24, but she's only 8. My parents randomly decided to have another baby when I was sixteen, to ''try and heal their marriage.'' It didn't work. I love Elizabeth, though, so I never minded them bringing a new addition into our small family of three.

"Do you want to stay in here, Lizzy? You can get under the blankets and listen to music with my earbuds."

Her eyes light up in delight. "Can I listen to Harry Styles?"

"Of course you can." I laugh. Lizzy most definitely got her obsession with Harry Styles from me. I've loved the man since his One Direction days. What's not to love about him?

"Put on Fine Line!"

"Okay, okay, keep your voice down, please. We don't want mom and dad to know which room you're in, remember?" Lizzy nods, settling in under my pink and blue blankets.

"Stay here, okay? I'm going to go check things out." Usually my ideas to go 'check things out' don't go too well. They typically result in a few bruises, but I always end up being fine after a while. Once I get a stamp of approval from my baby sister, I leave my room, wearing pyjamas, making sure to close the door behind me.

"Maybe if your dick didn't fucking land in another woman, we wouldn't be having this issue!" My mom's voice booms from the kitchen downstairs.

"Why can't you take your anger out on the kids instead of me?!" My dad scoffs.

"You know what? Fine. I'll take my anger out on them." Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck you dad. Why would he even suggest that? My parents would never lay a finger on each other, but they have no problem punching the shit out of Lizzy and I. My mom's footsteps stomp up the winding staircase. Fuck.

"ARE YOU EAVESDROPPING
ON MINE AND YOUR FATHER'S CONVERSATION?!'' My mom screams.

I manage to get a sentence out. "No, I promise I was just dropping Lizzy off at her friends house."

"LISTEN UP, BITCH! YOU DO NOT GET TO KNOW ABOUT WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I ARE TALKING ABOUT! IT DOESN'T FUCKING CONCERN YOU! GO BACK TO YOUR BEDROOM AND BE A BURDEN, IT'S WHAT YOU DO BEST, AFTER ALL!"

Sometimes I don't understand how her voice isn't completely gone all of the time, considering how much she yells at the top of her lungs. I retreat back to my bedroom, per her orders. I may be in my twenties now, but my parents don't give a crap. They still abuse me, despite that the fact that I could call the cops at any given moment. I won't do that, though. I'm too scared of the consequences. Like, what if the police don't believe me? I have marks all over my body to prove it, but it's still a major concern of mine. Not to mention, as soon as my parents got out of prison, they would come find me, and give me what I deserved for sending them to that hellhole in the first place.

"Why was mom yelling at you?" Lizzy asks as soon as I've returned to my safe place, also known as my bedroom. My heart breaks at her words. She shouldn't have to deal with a mother who constantly shouts, and a father who constantly hits his children. I, on the other hand, completely deserve everything that's thrown my way.

Elizabeth deserves to have a normal life- with a functional family, a big backyard to run around and play in, and dinner on the table every evening. Instead, I take on majority of the responsibilities around the house. I prepare three meals a day, clean every surface until they're gleaming and twinkling, and take care of our cat, Carolina. Not to mention I quite literally raise my baby sister. It's okay, though. I don't mind. I'm used to it all.