Cross My Heart // Harry Styles

38

GWEN'S POV: 

(Emily is telling the story of how she lost her virginity, to Gwen and Harry.)

"They knew what I had done.

My mum grabbed me by my hair and pulled me downstairs to the kitchen table, and my dad followed. They yelled at me endlessly. It must have been an entire HOUR that they yelled at me, and degraded me, calling me a s.lut, and a who.re, and telling me I wasn't their daughter, because THEY didn't raise a sl.ut for a daughter...."

Emily stopped because I guess she could see the change in my face at the word who.re. Why was this stupid stuff affecting me like this today? I was doing so well all this time. Why?

I supposed because I was sitting across the table from the woman whose actions MADE me into a who.re. And I hated that word. Because it described me.

I looked at Harry who was of course, trying to read me and figure out how to diffuse the ticking from my time bomb of a mind today.

I nodded to him, as if to say I was ok, and he said "You sure? We can stop, take a break if you want..."

"No, I'm fine....I just....hate that word. You know that", I told him, and looked at my mother.

She was looking at Harry then at me, then back at Harry. She knew he basically spoke for me most of the time. Because I couldn't. And I was happy for that. Not a step or a crooked breath went by that he didn't notice, and get an ok from me before moving on. Such a beautiful man. And all mine.

"I know you do babe. I know", he said lowly, as he squeezed my hand that was on my lap still.

I felt better with my thoughts of Harry being so wonderful and being all mine, so I asked Emily to please go on.

"Make a long story a tiny bit shorter, my dad who did most of the disciplining, took off his belt, and had me pull my pants down. Underwear too. This wasn't unusual. Every time I'd done something bad enough to warrant a belt spanking, I'd had to take my pants down. He wanted it to sting as bad as possible. I know, because I asked him once. He said he spanked me to punish me for my sins, and it had to hurt, so I wouldn't want it to happen again, and I'd learn my lesson.

This night, he whipped me with his belt harder and longer than he ever had. My sins that night were almost unforgivable, apparently.

I could barely move to get up from bending over the arm of the couch by the time he was done. I thought I might pass out from the pain.

My mother just watched the entire time, arms crossed over her chest, giving me the "This is what you get" look when I'd look up at her through my blurry teared eyes, in hopes that she'd love me enough to stop him from belting me.

Finally I got up and ran upstairs to my bed, and cried my eyes out all night. I never went to sleep that night. I hurt everywhere. Front and back. I could feel that the belt had drawn blood, too. I was just too sad to check myself. The next day when I changed my clothes, I could see all the blood stains on my jeans in the back. Along with the big one in the front.

I showered, and tried to pick myself up out of my sadness, and told my mum I was going to my friend's house, when I was actually planning to walk to Jude's house in hopes that he'd give me the hugs and support I needed.

My dad was at work already.

There was a knock at the door, and it was the police. Long story short, someone who lived across the field had seen the flames and saw Jude and I arguing at the truck, described it to police when they called to report the field burning, and since Jude had plenty of experience with police already, they went straight to him, knowing his truck. Finding the blanket with dead grass on it in the bed of his truck didn't help. And he of course, being the unloving, uncaring man that he was, blamed the whole thing on ME. Told them I'd kicked over a candle, and started the fire.