Texting Styles / hs

Chapter 44

Harry POV

I didn't forgive her, no. But I understood now, in part, that she was not fully here, not mentally "okay." That didn't make her actions "okay" either, but at least it offered an explanation. I held her as she was crying, but I was semi-disgusted. Not because she was most likely schizophrenic or something, but because she was still bratty. She seemed to at least recognize that what she did was wrong, and she must have known that something was off because she heard voices. And, even more so, her parents clearly didn't notice, or they would have done something to help her.

I heard footsteps above me, loud, harsh footsteps. Figuring her mother was just casually stomping around, I dismissed it.

But Shelby didn't.

"No... he's home. You have to leave. Now."

Under other circumstances, I probably wouldn't protest leaving, but there was panic in her voice, making me want to figure out what the hell was going on.

Even though I was eager to find Lexi, I figured she could wait a tad bit longer until I make sure all was well here.

"Who's here?" I asked quietly, nervously.

"My dad. You need to leave. Please, he-"

I heard yelling upstairs. Loud yelling. Lexi flinched, but she didn't seem shocked. Just... scared. And sad? Yes, she definitely looked sad.

A few quiet tears made their way down her face, but I couldn't focus on her. Because her parents were going mental up there.

"You fucking bitch! I come home, expecting a nice meal, and what do I get? Nothing. Just you sitting around on your fat ass! I work my ass off to make a living; to make money for this family, and what do I get in return?! Nothing. God, woman, get the hell outta my face!"

Then I heard it. It was impossible not to. Slap.

I looked down at Shelby's quaking form, and knew that this happened often. Maybe every week, maybe even every day.

I looked down at her, raising my eyebrows with slight concern.

She whispered, "he... he gets like this all the t-time. My mom usually cries after, too. Once I a-asked her why she doesn't divorce him. She says she l-loves him."

I slowly stood up, looking down at her. I offered her a hand and pulled her up. "Why don't you tell someone?"

"I did."

"Who?"

"Albert."

"Who's Albert?" I asked.

"He lives in that closet over there. I'm sure he's there now. C'mon."

I frowned, confused. She opened the closet, and there was no one there.

"Hey, Al," she said. "They're at it again."

Damn.

I kind of knew she was schizophrenic, but this was insane. There was no one in the closet.

And her parents weren't going to do anything about it because they were too busy fighting.

Then a hand wrenched me away from Shelby.

"What the hell are you doing with my daughter?!"

At some point, her father had come downstairs. Shelby trembled in the closet, and her mother was nowhere to be seen.

"Daddy, he's fine. It's... It's j-just Harry."

He pulled my chin toward his face. "Harry who?"

"Styles, D-Daddy."

He glared at me. "No way in hell. Harry Styles wouldn't give a shit about you, bitch." Then he grabbed me by the wrist and started dragging me up the stairs. I ignored the excruciating pain in my wrist as he pulled me to the kitchen, Shelby inching along behind us tentatively.

He twisted my wrist until it snapped, throwing me on the floor.

I whimpered, cradling my clearly-broken wrist, when I heard a scream.

A scream from a voice I knew all too well, even if I'd only heard it once.

Lexi was here.