Chapter 8- Giving Up

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Chapter Eight - Giving Up

We walk silently and after a moment, Harry begins to swing our arms between us. I look at him, pouting.

"Let me go and stop being cutesy. I'm trying to be mad at you." He laughs, shaking his head. "Don't be mad at me." He suggests, pursing his lips and barely shrugging. "But you were being a jerk." I insist stubbornly. He shakes his head, looking down at me "I was worried about you."

I groan, pulling my hand from his. He stops walking, standing in his place. I look back at him, waiting. "Are you coming or not?" I huff, placing my hands on my hips.

He stares at me, silent. "I'm sorry.." He whispers sincerely. I pause, searching his green eyes that are twinkling in concern and confusion. I barely smile, nodding slightly.

He grins cheekily, rushing forwards to take my hand again. "Diana?" He asks, head tilting to the side curiously. I bite my lip, looking down at our joined hands. "Yeah?" His eyes wander to the ground, his shoes suddenly very interesting.

A blush creeps into his cheeks as he murmurs shyly "Thank you for being my friend.." I pause for a moment, smiling. "Of course, Harry.."

We continue to walk, the humid air seeming to be creeping around us, leaving a claustrophobic feel. I bite my lip in thought.

"Harry, why can't you tell me who or what gives you those injuries?" His smile disappears and he turns to face forward again, shaking his head. My brows furrow and I squeeze his hand

"Please, tell me. I want to help you." I murmur softly. He shakes his head again, setting his jaw. "Diana, I'm not just saying this because I'm out of hope. You really can't help in this situation." He mumbles.

I pause, thinking hard. If he's not gonna tell me, I'm going to figure it out. And I can narrow it down by figuring out where it happens.

"Harry.." I start casually. "Do you think I could come over some time-" He cuts me off immediately, "No." My brows furrow as I look up at him. "Mind if I ask why not?" I ask cautiously.

He looks down at me, eyes wary and face stoic. "My house is a mess. It's embarrassing." He lies smoothly. But I saw the defensive flicker in his eye, revealing that it wasn't the truth.

"Then I'll help you clean up." I retort as I harden my gaze, making it clear I knew he was lying. His eyes narrow slightly. "Maybe I don't want you to help me." He says cooly. "Maybe I don't care." I return slowly, enunciating each word as if explaining to a child.

His voice lowers to a growl "I don't want your help. Diana." I pull my hand free, folding my arms. "You are getting my help. Harry." He glares at me and without hesitation I glare back.

We both stand there, facing each other. My arms are folded firmly over my chest, his arms stiff at his sides. We both stand there in silence. After a moment, I ask quietly "I can't go home with you because it's your dad... Isn't it.."

His stubborn front falters for a moment and my brows furrow. "It is your dad..." I whisper softly. He shakes his head, looking around.

I swallow hard, stepping closer. He closes his eyes and sighs. "Harry.." I mumble "Why didn't you tell anyone...?" I wonder out loud. He shakes his head, eyes still downcast.

"Harry, someone can help you... Tell a teacher. Tell my parents. Tell a cop. Tell anyone. We gotta do something about this!" I insist, cupping his face in my hands. "Because I don't want to get him arrested!" He suddenly bursts.

I sigh, pressing my forehead against his chest. "Why not?" I groan, brows furrowing as my hands slide to his shoulders. "Because. He's my father.. And despite everything he's done, I do love him, Diana." He mumbles defensively.

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