bella [harry styles] a.u

Chapter 15

Annabelle

I barely slept when I was suppose to, I barely ate despite Harry's constant pleading for me to do so, and I couldn't take in a breath of air without the fear of when my last breath would be taken.

I couldn't do anything.

I was like a gallon of milk that'd gone sour once reaching its expiration date; I was gone.

I couldn't stop thinking that Harry had never mentioned a Bella being dead. He told me that Gemma was dead and the only solution to this whole fiasco that I could come up with was that Harry was going to kill me.

Not only was Gemma's name already on the gravestone, but my supposed name was too and despite me having any detective skills since the highest my hopes for myself go are graphic design, I knew that something wasn't right. Harry wasn't telling me something.

And the worst possible scenario on my end was that Harry was going to kill me. But in my mind, I already felt dead, so why not be dead?

Two days since the cemetery with Harry have turned into two days of me living in absolute fright and unsurety on what my purpose staying at Harry's house was. The most information I could subtly get out of him was that he didn't work, his job was supposedly to take care of me and he inherited money after his parent's death, allowing him to live freely.

But, of course Harry didn't tell me that in a proper manner, he kept asking me if I was worried about us not having enough money, or if I wanted him to work because I never did tell him I love him and to him that must mean I hate him. He's not wrong about that.

I could barely even keep track of what day it was anymore, I had given up on that yesterday. What did it matter anyway? I was going to die soon, anyway.

"Babe!" Harry called, opening the door to "my room" and closing it behind him. I was seated dully on the center of my bed with my legs crossed, eyes focused in on my lap. Harry didn't sound like he was going to kill me. "I told you to come down for dinner ten minutes ago. Are you okay?" Harry's eyebrows were knitted together with nothing but concern and I was glad when I noticed his hands were empty, no sight of any weapon on his body.

"I'm fine." I whispered, feeling the bed shift beside me as Harry suddenly got on top of it, wrapping his arms around my torso and pulling me back into a laying position beside him.

"No you're not." Harry mumbled, his breath hitting the side of my face as he spoke. He kissed my cheek gracefully, letting his lips linger there before pulling away, forcing me on my side so I was facing him. "You have to tell me what's wrong so I can make it better."

"I, I'm scared." I decided to confess to Harry, feeling his grip on me tighten from the very words.

"Don't be scared, Bella. You have me, I'm taking care of you, now. I love you."

"You, you're going to kill me." I cried, keeping my voice quieter than Harry's as tears began to leak out of my eye sockets.

"No! No, I'm not letting that happen again!" Harry shouted, his voice suddenly becoming angry and fearful as he hugged me tighter and closer to his chest, repetitively kissing my forehead as I tried to make sense of what he was talking about. "I'm never letting you go, Bella." Harry seemed to be trying to convince himself, sounding to be on the verge of crying, like me.

"I'm, I'm sorry." I tried to apologize, my body suddenly released from Harry's arms. Using his grip on my waist, Harry got me to straddle him, making sure to keep me in place by his hands resting on my hips.

"Come on, baby, kiss me." Harry grinned, surprising me as he seemed to have completely switched moods. I shook my head, refusing to do as Harry said, knowing that there was no way out of my situation, but at the very least, I could try. Harry groaned at my non-compliance, suddenly forcing me downwards by his grip around me, our lips merely centimeters away.