Lunatic (l.s)

Chapter 4- H

The nightmares had started years ago, before he'd even been thrown into this stupid cell. It was always the same fear that had the boy gripping the edge of his bed, or almost tearing his blankets apart in vice tight grips. It was so horrifying to him that he'd even scream, usually his mother or youngest sister would have to climb in bed with him, and carefully wake him up, because sometimes when he was woken up, he'd get extremely violent. Tonight wasn't any different. It was the same vivid memory, etched into the darkest corners of his mind. It was usually dark, and flashed like strobe lights. It was hard to remember what was playing, but since the dream had become a regular occurrence, he'd learnt to remember the flashes.

It was a head of blonde hair, that was being dragged through dark brown leaves and mud. It was wet and clumped with blood, and he can almost feel her fucking hair in his hands. Harry doesn't remember who, or why, or how, but he knows she was screaming for him to stop. It was really hard to see her face, since it was covered in her hair. Her skin was like porcelain, smeared in her own blood and tears. Her body was almost fully clothed, almost. She had jeans on, but they were torn and bloody. She was topless, except she was still wearing a bra. Her screams were muffled in between her sobs, no one would hear her anyway, they were too far from civilisation. Harry had pushed her against a tree, and she was crying, gripping the roots next to her, trying to curl into a little ball, as if she'd disappear. 

Harry doesn't know what it is, but there's so much rage, it's like he can actually see red. He can feel his pulse fast and loud in his ears, and his chest burns, and his hands ache because he wants to attack her, but she's sobbing. She's saying his name, over and over, like a mantra. She sounds so far away, like he's under water. Harry grabs her face hard in-between his hands, his fingers digging hard into her soft skin. He leans in, eyes skimming over her face. He brushes the messy and bloody hair out of her eyes. Her blue eyes are bright, shining with a layer of tears. Her pale lips tremble. He's so close, and he's so warm. 

"Harry," 

Harry kisses her, maybe a little too forced but she kisses back, because this is what they do. It's what they've done for years, since he was 16. They'd always fight, and maybe Harry would push himself over the edge, a little to far. He'd hit her, she'd cry. He'd cry, and then they'd kiss some more, and apologise, but something isn't right. Because she can feel it, they both can feel it. This time there is no apology. His kiss is too rough, bruising her lips, his free hand digging into her thigh. She kind of whines, trying to let him know he's hurting her, but he digs in harder. Harry moves his mouth from hers, and lips start to brush against her jaw, and down her neck. He stops in the crevice between her shoulders and her neck, and presses a soft kiss there, parting his lips slightly, His teeth brush against the soft skin and then he does it. It's his favourite place, it's always been his. his. 

He bites, eyes clenched close, focusing on the blinding anger coursing through him like a tidal wave. He bites down until she's shouting, trying to push him away. He pulls away once his tongue flickers across the skin, and he can taste the rustiness of her blood. His hands move to her back, unbutton her bra. She tries to push him away but he moves his face back to hers, stopping just centimetres away from her lips. Her bra falls from her shoulders and he sudden holds both her hands down with one. 

"So pretty, so fucking pretty," He whispers, barely audible 

"N-Not here, we can go home," She smiles, lips still trembling

"No," He shouts