bella [harry styles] a.u

Chapter 12

AnnaBelle

I was petrified.

I was mentally exhausted from always being on the edge with Harry, having to make sure I did nothing to irritate him or cause him to flip out.

It had been three days since the tattoo incident, and I was slowly beginning to get use to my new lifestyle, if this was even considered one. Every time I glanced down at my wrist, I grew less and less sad at the site of the tattoo that made me want to sob.

Harry was protective, that I had learned, but he also continued to treat me like a small child. I was never allowed to use a knife, so when we had steak last night he had to cut up the meat ahead of time. I was barely ever allowed out of Harry's site unless I was in "my room", a place I hated to be in, or Harry's with the doors locked.

But the sad part was, I was slowly beginning to get use to the new conditions. I mean, it wasn't absolutely terrible, Harry didn't force himself upon me, he didn't beat me, and besides him being extremely unstable, I was, in a way, safe.

"I have to go out and get groceries. Is there anything you want?" I was lounging in Harry's living room, staring down at my lap out of boredom and cluelessness on what else to do.

"I'm fine." I mumbled, knowing that Harry could hear me as he stood in front of me, his figure looming over my seated body as I leaned against his couch.

"I can't just leave you here." Harry's words snagged my attention, causing me to look up, having to lift my head up high in order to do so.

"What do you mean?"

"I, I have to lock you up somewhere." Harry hadn't left the house before without me, and the only time we'd ever gone somewhere was to get the tattoo and then the ice cream parlor. When Harry noticed my sad gaze, I could tell he was beginning to internally panic, because for some reason, he valued my opinion. "I'm so sorry, I-I love you, Bella, you know that! I do, I really do!" Harry was shouting towards the end of his short rant, panicking while he paced in front of me and pulled at his hair while I only watched.

I felt almost bad for him, having to watch him constantly fuss over me all because I looked at him a certain way. I didn't want this to be my lifestyle, the way I lived, and I didn't think it was right for even Harry to have to live this way. He needed help.

"Please, please I have to do this." Harry was on the verge of tears as he suddenly stopped pacing to look at me with a more than apologetic glance. His face seemed to have fallen completely over the course of two minutes, and his hair was messy from being tugged at and ran through by Harry's long fingers.

I knew I didn't actually have a choice to go against what Harry asked of me, even if he was one of the most vulnerable and emotional people I've ever gotten the displeasure to meet.

I sighed and stood up from the couch, watching as Harry carefully took my hand in his and lead me up the stairs of his house. It seemed as though some of the things I did were routine when it came to Harry; on a daily basis we'd wake up before nine, eat three overly healthy meals together, sleep in the same bed together, I having to get into bed much too early, and then I'd somehow always wake up from a nightmare just as Harry was getting into bed and taking off his clothes to do so.

"Where do you want to, uh, be?" Harry was carefully wording whatever he said and I knew he was trying not to feel too guilty about everything. It was strange how he didn't seem at all affected by the murders, yet when it came to me directly, he was above and beyond worried about how I'd react to everything. "You can go in my room or yours."