Mercy

Chapter Fiftyone

        note// if you don't cry i don't know man. u need a heater in ur soul 

        the melody of the song on the side just makes me cry when writing this so listen pls

        Harry; 

        John kept looking back at me the entire ride to God know's where. I had my arms crossed over my chest, staring out the window in deep thought while he would cautiously check the locks on my door or something. He's doing his job, I understand. But, I'm not that horrible. And what in the fucking world would possess me to jump out the car? Especially at our speed. 

        "I'm not going to pull out a knife and murder you, John. You can stop looking like you're sitting next to a ticking bomb." I dryly told him, staring at the road ahead of us. 

        He sighed, shaking his head. His hands grasped the steering wheel tighter. "I'm just trying to ensure our safety. Don't want you making any rash decisions, Harry." I rolled my eyes at his words, which he glanced at me for with a frown. "No, not that I think you're a bad kid. I mean, you've done a lot of shit. But I still think you're a good kid at heart." 

        I looked over at him, squinting my eyes. "Did my mother tell you to say that?" 

        "Maybe," he laughed. When he turned and saw I wasn't laughing, he stopped and stared with concern. "Alright, that wasn't funny. But no, she didn't. I'm saying it because I just like you, you know. And so is my kid. He's troubled. I should have been there for him, really." John rambled. 

        "What's the point of this, John?" I asked, almost impatient to know what he's trying to say here. 

        "I'm trying to say," he inhaled, watching the road carefully at the same time, "That everyone makes mistakes. Everyone is a fuck up, Harry. Your mother told me how you feel, and I don't see a bad kid. I see a kid who's gone through a lot of shit."

        My silence hadn't made things worse, nor did it better the situation. I just stared at my lap, frowning in deep thought about my life. I've told myself many times to not go back into that part of my mind, but apparently everyone wants me to. Everyone wants me to think back and realize that those mistakes made me who I am. 

        "Where are we going?" I finally inquired, looking out into the window. "How was I even allowed to leave?" 

        "The judge agreed that this will help with your conduct. And I think so, too. This will be good for you." 

        I leaned into my seat with another heavy sigh. The second I saw the building, with the sign I could easily make out, my draw dropped open. My heart fell to the pit of my stomach, the color faded from my face within seconds of recognition. 

        At first I couldn't believe my mother would ever suggest this. I couldn't even breathe right now from the anguish in my stomach. I snapped my head in John's direction. With eyes wide and my jaw clenched, I spat out, "I'm not going in there." 

        "Harry, this is mandatory." 

        "No! I'm not going there! Turn this fucking car around right now --" 

        His voice could have broken windows with its volume. "Harry Edward Styles, you're going to get out of this car and you're going to walk your ass into that building! This is for you! We're doing this for you! I took time out of my day to drive you here for half an hour! So, I'm sorry boy, but regardless you're going inside!"

        Inside of me, it was like my soul and hope faltered, whatever was left of it. I hated this man with a passion. There was such a tough grip around my heart, squeezing it so barely any oxygen made its way into my blood. My hands were cold and warm at the same time, and my head was light.