Detached [h.s au]

Chapter 36: Pressure

Elizabeth's POV

I run my hand through my hair as I shut the house door behind me. I'm angry at myself for not being more persistent with Daniel, I'm angry because he was such an asshole, and I'm angry because I feel like I'm a pawn in this big game and I have no idea how to stop playing.

I almost scream when I notice Harry sitting on the couch, his head in his hands. He looks up at me and I gasp when I see in what condition he's in. His cheek is swollen and discoloured, there's a bruise forming under his left eye, and a bleeding cut sliced above his left eyebrow.

"Harry? What happened?" I ask as I quickly approach him, carefully lifting his chin to examine his wounds.

He pushes my hand away, jolting up to his feet. "Where the hell were you?" He snaps.

I take a moment to collect myself after his sudden outburst. "You saw me leaving with Daniel."

"Yes, his friends made sure to remind me of that," he says through gritted teeth, pointing at his face.

My eyes widen. "What?"

"I told you not to go with him, but you had to spite me," he accuses, his green eyes burning.

"And I told you I had to talk to him, Harry. Besides, Zayn asked me to talk to him," I defend. "Look, let me help you clean those wounds and we'll talk, okay?"

"I don't need your help," he says, turning on his heel and stalking toward the bathroom.

I let out a heavy sigh and run my fingers through my hair, deciding to follow him. He's standing in front of the sink, looking at his reflection as he cleans his wounds with a towel.

"Does it hurt a lot?" I ask.

He glances at me. "You should see the other guys."

I sigh. "Why did they do it?"

"For every lie you said they punched me," he says. "I let them have those first few punches before I took matters into my own hands."

I gulp, covering my mouth with my palm. "Oh God, this is my fault! I'm so sorry, Harry."

He frowns, shaking his head. "It's not your fault, Beth. It's theirs."

"No, it's mine. If I'd known I..." I huff and turn around, walking toward the bedroom. I I sit on the bed and put my head in my hands, trying to organise the mess in my head. Fuck Daniel for doing this to him, fuck him for using me and lying to me, fuck him for treating me that way.

Harry follows me inside, a look of discomfort on his face. "Are you okay?"

"Don't worry, just go clean your wounds properly."

"I don't know if we have any band-aids."

"You're the one that does the shopping."

"And you're the one that does the shopping list. Was I supposed to memorise it?" He says sarcastically.

I sigh and stand up, marching back toward the bathroom. I open the mirror cabinet and rummage through it until I find the band-aids along with some rubbing alcohol and a cloth. I remember how my mother used to cleanse my wounds whenever I tripped - which was quite often - and scold me because she couldn't understand my restless behaviour. My brother was the same.

We were always different.

I almost collide with Harry when he enters the bathroom again. He rolls his eyes and takes the supplies from me. "What are you-"