Toxic (Harry Styles)

Chapter 16

Chapter 16

I've learnt that it becomes easier to not show emotion, that way nobody has anything to judge wrong, or most of all, right.

Harry finally puts me down when he deadbolts the door. I was quite surprised that he carried me up the stairs with me thrashing against his back, and didn't falter once. I was yelling too, trying to get his downstairs neighbour─ Lucas, I believe ─to stop Harry's actions. But, other than me, it was silent in the foyer.

As soon as my feet hit the floor I shove my clutched fist against his chest as hard as I could. He was momentarily off guard when I did so and shuffled back one step. I take this chance to dash across the living room space, scooting around the sofa so that there is a barrier between us.

"Shay," Harry's steady voice fills the room; his palms are facing out defensively. "Shay, just calm down─"

"How can you tell me to 'calm down', Harry?" I shout. I can feel the flush in my face as I try to regulate my short, uneven breaths. "What─ what the hell was all of that?"

It's all catching up to me now. The images still fresh in my memory, flashing like burst of lights.

Someone tried to kill Harry.

Someone tried to kill me.

It was all too much to take in, though it processed perfectly─ in a strange sense ─in my head. In one moment, I was watching Harry slowly attempt to move forward, and in the next the cold, hard wood floor could be felt under me. I shiver from the sudden change as I realize my legs must've given out. Harry was there standing over kneeling next to me, the lamp shines in my eyes, and the sofa is at an odd angle.

"Shay." Harry's voice sounded distant but I know that it isn't since he was right by me. Suddenly, I'm shifted. Harry hoists me up with one arm around my back, and the other in the crook of my knee. I whimper from the spike that runs up my spine. "Okay, okay. I'm going to lean you against the sofa," Harry warns me, and when I nod, he shifts me up. My head rolls back against the soft material of the sofa.

"Now answer me something," he says, sitting down beside me. I shake my head in objection. When he speaks again, it's with the tight voice that tells me not to defy him. "Yes, Shay, this is serious. I know that someone hit you and it wasn't in the alley. Who hit you, Shay?"

I can tell Harry's trying to be calm about this, hoping that I'll cooperate with him, but his eyes are still dark green and furious. I can't tell him, I can't.

"No, Harry, I can't tell you," I utter. Harry suddenly grips my wrist, pulling on my arm to make me look at him. We're nose to nose as he stares at me intent and deadly.

"Yes, you can." His voice is low and warning. "Whoever hurt is a sick, worthless bastard, and he doesn't deserve to live. Now, tell me."

In the long run, I can see that my attempts at pulling my hands free are very small to none, and I stop. There's no way around that, and if there was, Harry would search everywhere for him. With my eyes shut tight, I mumble his name under my breath.

"Who?"

"My dad," I whisper to the floor.

Abruptly, my hands were freed and a rush of air ruffled my hair. I realize that Harry isn't next to me anymore, but he's striding to the front door again. He's going after your dad! My subconscious yells at me. I scramble to my feet, ignoring my aches.

Just as he reaches for the door handle I catch up with him. "Harry no!" I tug at his material clad shoulder. "He's my dad, you can't!"

"Give me one damn good reason why I shouldn't!" He shouts, turning to me. I flinch, backing away from his intimidating impression, but he moves with me. I'm stopped when my back hits the wall as I try to put as much space as I could between us.

"Because he's the only thing I have left."

***

I sit on the grant counter top with my back to mirror in Harry's bathroom, waiting for him to return with the antiseptics and Advil. Swinging my legs back and forth, I silently thank God that Harry didn't go after my dad, and stayed here. He debated over it for a long time before deciding that he should take care of me. But what worries me is that he didn't say he wouldn't go to my father.

My eyes start to droop as a wave of fatigue washes over me. It doesn't surprise me; it has been a very long day, starting with the fight with Dad, to Jess's house, to the situation right outside, to now. If anything else happens today, I don't think I can take it.

Harry strolls in less tense than earlier, but still on guard. He carries a white box in one hand, and a glass of water in the other. He holds out the water to me, placing the first-aid kit on the counter next to me. As he opens it, I drink the water until it was halfway empty. Harry pulls out a small pack of sanitized wipes and doesn't wait for any words from me to begin. I jump slightly with the initial sting sets in, but he doesn't notice.

"So, do you want to tell me what really happened?" He asks, not looking away from his work.

I almost laugh from his question, but instead I say: "Do I really have a choice?"

"No."

"Okay," I say in distaste. I don't want to go back to the events from early this morning, but like he said, I don't have a choice. "Um, well when you dropped me off, I tried to sneak in but he was already awake. He asked me where I had been and I said with you, and I that had lost track of time. He got mad saying that he didn't want me to be near you because he knew... he knew what you w-wanted with me..."

I keep my eyes on him as I speak but his expression doesn't change and he doesn't meet my gaze. "What did he mean by that, Harry?"

"I haven't a clue of what he's talking about. Is that why he hit you?" He asked tersely. He's moved on to the cut on my lip, cleaning it out dirt and tiny rocks.

"No," I confirm. "I told him that I was an adult and that he doesn't need to protect me all the time. And that─" I cut myself off. Harry can't know about him, not yet. I haven't spoken about him for years, and I won't start now. "And that's when he hit me," I lie.

Harry's gone tense all over, his actions have gotten harsher and I can feel my skin starting to redden.

"Hey," I call him out, gripping his wrist to make him stop. "Calm down." His face goes solemn, like he's thinking hard about something. He doesn't move an inch, he's hardly breathing even. I blink. "What's wrong?"

When he speaks again, he voice─ shockingly ─is a whisper, which I strain to hear. "What happened to your mum?"

I freeze. No one has straight out asked me why I don't have a mum. And when they did, it was at an appropriate time, which this is not. "Are you─ are you actually suggesting that─. Listen, my father has never beaten anyone," I try to say in my calmest voice. "Especially my mum. He's a doctor; he's the kind of guy that needs to take care of people. Even though you don't think so, it's true. But he is not the guy that randomly hits people. I mean, I trust him with my life."

"Then why did he do what he did? Please enlighten me, Shay," Harry snaps.

I cringe from his tone. "Because I provoked him."

"That's not good enough. I─"

"My mum," I say, looking at my shoes. I just don't want him to finish the sentence, so any other topic is better.

"What?"

"You wanted to know what happened to my mum. Right?" I glance at him. I take his silence as a go ahead, and he's done with cleaning all my cuts.

"She died two years ago of high blood pressure in her lungs. The correct term for what she had is PH or Pulmonary Hypertension. She lived with a tube that pumped medicine into her heart continuously for over a year until it got worse. Since it's such an uncommon disease, not many doctors knew how to treat it and she died a week later. I was at school when it happened, so I wasn't able to say a final goodbye until the funeral. Over the years it's gotten somewhat easier, but sometimes I miss her more than others. I still think of the most random times that seemed so small at one point, but now those memoirs are everything. From a simple visit to the park, to her reading me a book and tucking me into bed, to eating dinner with her and Dad. It's those memoirs that you have to remember and say that you'll never forget them.

"A month after she died, some doctors from America told us that it's mainly found in women and it's able to be passed on in heritage. So they tested me, and it came back negative. I don't think my dad ever really got over Mum's death. And the past year has been even worse, he's almost broken down so many times. He takes on extra shifts just to get his mind off of everything. That's why I'm serious about my job at the dance studio. It was my mum's studio. She owned and worked there for as long as she was physically able too, and then Lilly took over because I was too young. When I turn twenty-one I'll be the one in charge of it and teach and follow in my mum's footsteps."

Harry, who has been in the same position since I started talking, finally moves to cup my face and press his forehead against mine.

"I'm sorry about your mum─"

"Don't be," I cut him off. I don't need pity and neither does she.

He sighs, "Then I'm sorry that you had to see all of that out there. But, Shay, I will do anything to keep you safe and unharmed. From anyone. Accept that."

+++++

Awe defensive Harry!

What do you think about Shay's Mum?

VOTE AND COMMENT PLEASE!

-A xxx