Adopted by Harry Styles

Letting Harry In (Part Two)

(Song: Through the Dark by One Direction)
"What does that mean, love? Help me understand," Harry tells me worriedly.

"They-they're going to post them on instagram i-if I tell anyone about him raping me," I say, my tears beginning again as I realize the reality of the situation I'm in. I can't believe I'm telling Harry all of this.

"Okay, thank you for telling me," Harry says while rubbing my back to keep me calm. "I know the pictures are of you, but what exactly are you doing?"

I shake my head rapidly. "I can't tell you," I say, hoping he wouldn't continue asking.

"Love," Harry start. "We need to tell the school what's going on. They're going to need to know what the picture is of. Will you please tell me?"

"N-no. You can't tell the school. Ki-Kimmy will post the pictures," I say, falling into Harry's stomach, sobbing.

"I'm not going to let the school allow Kimmy to post those picture, okay? You have to believe me. Kimmy's phone will be taken long before she has that opportunity and those pictures will be deleted," Harry says, encouraging me to tell him what the pictures were of.

"I trust you, Dad," I say while sitting up and looking Harry in the eyes. I wipe a stray tear that travel down my cheek and continue talking. "But I can't tell you because I... I don't know what you'll think of me," I say. I hope he doesn't take it the wrong way. If it was anything other than me, naked, covered in scars, then I'd tell him, but I'm too embarrassed; too ashamed.

"Ellie, whatever is in that photo is never ever, not in a million years, going to change how I think of you. You're my daughter now, and you're going to be my daughter after you tell me what's in the pictures. Okay? Tell me you understand," Harry says, moving my head with his hands so I'm looking him in the eyes again.

"Dad, it's really bad... it's really bad. And I don't want you to hate me. I know you'll hate me. It's too terrible to say. I'm just ungrateful for everything you gave me, and I'm sorry," I say, my voice faltering.

"What do you mean, ungrateful? Did you do something that made me look bad? I don't mind if you did, El. I really don't. You're not ungrateful at all," Harry says.

"No. It's not about you. I just can't say... it's too embarrassing," I say, my eyes watering again.

"Sweetie, you don't have to be embarrassed to tell me anything. I'm not going to judge you, no matter what," Harry says.

I shake my head and look down. Harry sighs, obviously puzzled on what to say next. We sit in an uncomfortable silence until he finally speaks up. "What if you write it down? I used to always do that when I was younger. I never liked to talk about my problems and found that much easier," Harry suggests.

Harry isn't going to let me leave until I tell him what the pictures are of, and I know that. I guess I really have no other choice but to agree with his idea.

I must have zoned out for a minute because Harry starts talking again. "What do you say, love?" He asks. I nod my head but keep my head down. "Okay, I'm going to go grab some paper from downstairs, you stay right here," he says while standing up. He places a kiss on the top of my head before leaving the room.

I can't believe I am going to tell him about my cuts and scars. This'll sure make him regret adopting me. He should have gone for a young one.

Harry returns in less than a minute with a pen and piece of paper. He hands them both to me, along with a book to lean on.

"Just tell me when you're ready. I'll wait over here," he says walking to one of the chairs on the side of his room under the window to give me complete privacy.

I try to start writing, but I fail. I don't even know where to begin. I spend at least two minutes just staring at the blank sheet of paper before calling for Harry. "Dad," I whisper.

He turns around. "What's wrong?" He asks, noticing the empty paper.

"I think I just... I just need to show you," I tell him.

"Okay, that's fine. Whatever you feel comfortable doing," Harry says. He sits back down on the bed and faces me.

I take a deep breath and look up at Harry, but quickly look down. I can't bring myself to make eye contact. "It's okay, take your time," Harry says.

I move my shaky hand to the sleeve of my shirt and pull up the sleeve, revealing some fresh cuts from only days ago and some old scars. I hold my arm out to show Harry and turn my head to the side. I clench my jaw to hold back the tears brimming my eyes, but it doesn't work. I let out a loud sob and bring my arm back to me, wrapping myself into a tight ball.

"I'm so sorry, Dad," I say, choking on my own words. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I continue mumbling. What's he going to think of me now?

Harry doesn't say anything, but I feel his arms wrap around me as he brings me close to him. Minutes pass before I calm down and stop crying. I'm all out of tears. My head is rested on Harry's chest and I feel his steady heart beat. I take big breaths to match with Harry's heart, and eventually relax into his arms, completely worn out from today.

Harry rubs the back of my head, smoothing out my messy hair as I remain curled up in a ball on his lap. I feel so vulnerable right now and I wish Harry would say something. "I'm sorry," I whisper one last time.

"Don't feel sorry," Harry says calmly, but I can tell he's hurt. "It's going to be okay. We're going to be okay."