Fifty Shades of Styles (3 book series)

Chapter Eight

OLIVIA'S POV

"Olivia," I heard the voice whimper as my eyes snapped up to their face. Harry. "Olivia!" He screamed jumping over the mess and engulfing me in a giant bear hug. I winced at the pain at my ribs but ignored it and melting into Harry's touch.

He pulled away and his breath grazed my nose.

"Alcohol," my eyebrows furrowed. "Harry, have you been drinking?" He laughed and pulled me back in for a hug.

"After all this, that's what you're worried about," he stumbled backward. "What did they do to you?" Tears fell from his eyes as he slurred his words. "Your leg," he walked over and scooped me up bridal style and carried me to his room.

He laid me on the bed carefully. I was a piece of broken glass in his hands. He lifted my shirt over my head slowly and slid my pants off. He slid his shirt off of him and scooped me back up into his arms.

We waltzed into the bathroom and he turned on the water. The steam quickly filled the room. He had a type of bench in his shower, which would explain why it was so huge. He sat down with me still in his arms.

"This is going to hurt," he pulled a small knife out of his pocket and started to cut my bandages off my leg. I yelped in pain burrowing my head in his neck as he slid the rest off. "That's good there's no sign of infection," I smiled while he inspected my leg.

He turned so the water was on mostly me. The warm water ran down my body erasing part of the physical memory of what happened. The bruises and cuts stung as the water cleaned them. But the pain in my leg when the water seeped into the deep cut, it was excruciating. I clenched my eyes shut and bit my lip harshly leaning back into Harry's neck.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry," he sobbed silently above my head. "I should've protected you, I should've kept you safe. I should've," he sobbed again. "Done so much more. I'm so sorry. It's all my fault."

I leaned away from him to see his face. His eyes were red and his eyelids were as well. They were swollen and puffy and he still smelled of alcohol. He looked down and continued to shake his head. His hair draped around his face as it started to curl up. I put my hand on the base of his neck and let my fingers play with the small curls that lay there.

"What happened to me, is not your fault," I breathed. "Telling me that I meant nothing to you that was your fault. Crushing me emotionally before I was crushed physically and mentally now that's your fault."

Tears rolled down his face landing on my bare thigh. But I felt no sympathy for him. I wasn't trying I hurt him or make myself feel better because hurting Harry was like hurting myself. My heart didn't break for him. My heart broke for myself. Because this sick man kidnapped me and ruined me. My anger built up to its high. I'd never been this angry. I've never been in this much pain. I've never been so weak. This. Is. Not. Me.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. I shook my hair back and realized that sorry wouldn't fix anything. Sorry, wouldn't do shît for me.

"I need to leave," I tried to stand but my leg wouldn't allow it. I fell back into Harry's lap and he held me sincerely.

"Please don't go, you don't know the things I've felt," he sniffled. "I-i didn't mean a word I said. Saying you meant nothing to me was stupid. You became my world the minute you came into my office with that sassy attitude," my heart raised a little from his words. "I've never felt so lonely, pathetic, worthless and I know you probably felt that too and a hell of a lot worse, way worse. But I've missed things about you that you probably didn't notice about your self."