Bird Set Free || Harry Styles AU

↜11↝

Darcy's POV

Harsh winds, hot air.

"Darcy." "Darcy."

The soft hum of my name seduces me into a trance where I remain in a state of limbo. My eyes remain shut lazily, my body is being held down on a cool surface. The weight on my chest beckons me to give in. To cave into this unknown surface. It wants me to fall gracefully down to the unknown. Like a feather, falling from a shelf. Possible landing on a soft carpet, or perhaps into a pile of glass shards that lays as the depressing remains of a beautiful porcelain vase.

Of course porcelain. Nothing is better than white.

In this state of distress, I am calm. Is this what the eye of a storm feels like? Everyone has this type of assumption that the middle is where it is at its worse. Only because it comes from the inside.

Everyone is physically a storm.
Their brain is the eye.

Only because one cannot truly fathom the mind of another without being tossed and pushed around in their whirlwind of emotions. No one knows what truly goes on in the mind of another.

Besides me, maybe. If I were to be a fictional character, I wonder what people would assume about me. Would they say I am smart for a negro slave? Perhaps...too smart? Will other people of color shake their head at me in contempt? Or maybe pride? Will others like me? Even if they weren't like me?

When I open my eyes will I see Colis? My loving mother? A confused Orum? Or a rueful Master Styles? At the end of the day, does it matter who I see?

If I cannot form the right words to say, why would I need to see anything?

Eventually, my words scatter themselves into an image, of a little girl. Thick coarse light brown hair crouched in a large bed of grass.

Harsh winds blow her hair crazily in tune with the grass. Hot air causes her thin arms and legs to gleam with sweat. But she stays. Within this contradiction she cannot understand, she remains content.

No. Content isn't the right word. If she truly was content, she would lie effortlessly in the grass, imprinting her petite body into the ground. Instead, she is crouched, hiding within the greenery. No longer scared, maybe just used to this.

Used to this clash of two sides.

"Darcy."

"Birdy"

She is called from both sides simultaneously. However, she does not raise from her position. Hidden within the grass she peaks between the blades of grass to see a hazy figure of little boy tumbling through the flowers. Creating an imprint of his clumsy actions as he crushes everything his hands and knees would touch.

"Birdy where are you?"

She doesn't respond, rather she muffles her giggles with her tiny hand. Soon her laughter gets lodged in her throat when she sees a man appear at his side.

"Darcy? Where are you!" The man screams, in pain, it would seem. He looks truly heartbroken as his gray eyes scanned the area. He did not find her, no, but he did reach for the hand of the fallen boy.

That sudden touch of intimacy between the boy and the man sparked something in that girl. It quaked her inner being as she stood up, chin up and shoulders back. She did not look at the man. Instead, she pointed an accusing finger to the little boy.

When he had seen her, the large toothy grin that painted his face was brighter than the sun itself. That was until she began to speak.

"Stop! That's my daddy, not yours!" Her shrilly, angered voice caught Harry by surprise. The little boy didn't know what to do, but one thing he did do was hold onto the man's hand tighter.

"Wh-wha..he isn't your daddy." He cocks his head to the side, his voice remains small behind his thin lips. The girl, on the other hand, was different. Her stature was rigid, there was a light shake to her body as the corner of her lip was being held back by her teeth.

She takes a deep breath through her nostrils and begins to speak again, "Yes. He. Is." Of course, she never met him in person, but she knew it had to be him. She knew from his eyes, she knew from his vibe this is who she has been looking for.

Just like he has been for her. Or so she thought.

"Your daddy is gone...gone because--"

"Don't listen to him kiddo..I love you. I love my baby. I'll be back. I'll rescue you, Colis and mama. You will live freely." He interjects, he shoots Harry a stern look before turning to Darcy with a toothy grin.

This little girl is one heck of a dreamer. But of course, she was. Those who are physically oppressed have a mind that escapes the literal confinement. The face, no doubt was familiar, but she couldn't place a name. Almost like one of those strangers you see wandering the streets; they have a face that you cannot forget but they remain nameless, etched in your mind as just a face.

With a guttural gasp shooting from my throat, I am yanked from this vision. Huffs spew from my lips as my chest heaves sporadically. My hair matted to the back of my neck as my clothes felt like they have shrunk a good three sizes in my wake.

I try to shuffle my feet but end up slipping back into the collection of mud that gathered around my unconscious body. I squint my eyes to peek through the blankets of rain shredding through the cloud to try and find a trace of where Orum had run off to.

Rather than being greeted with a face like I presumed, I am alone. But that was alright, I am used to being alone. I am not lonely, I am just alone and there is nothing wrong with that. It is perfectly okay its fi-

"Are you okay?"  I crane my neck to find the face of this voice. But it was no longer a surprise, with a slow deep voice like that it was hard to forget. Leaning up against my home with a grimace on his face was the man who told me my daddy was gone.

______
Sorry for the long wait! Thank you for the reads I appreciate it.
Once again check out Absence if you haven't!
Dedicated to chingmcvey and @kissable_brits