Surrender [Harry Styles AU] - DISCONTINUED

prologue

Harry

Harry lay there alone, shivering cold and dirty as the door to the basement slammed shut. He wanted a sheet, or maybe a blanket, something that could help take the chill out from his skin and stop the hairs on his body from standing up straight. But he knows it isn't possible, because somehow he wasn't deserving enough for the allowance of any extra warmth, and it hurt, and he was cold, and he thought he warranted that much

 He sat up slowly, the bones in his back cricking as he rose. The mattress he had been lying on for the past hour has no support whatsoever, the springs rusted and having snapped under the weight of all the activity that's taken place on it for the past three years. It disgusted him, thinking about what's happened here, reminding himself every time his lifeless eyes glance to the stains on the sheets that have yet to be changed.

 Harry lifted himself up off the filthy mattress, he grabbed his briefs and slipped them up his bony legs. He tried to ignore the loss of muscle in his limbs and the slight yellow tinge that has forced itself to fuse into his skin, it doesn't look healthy, but then again, Harry is far from it.

 The basement door opens to Harry's surprise, heavy footsteps making the stairs creak under the dreaded pressure. The man he hates, hates with every single fibre in his body, walked towards him, a wicked grin on his face and a familiar bucket of liquid grasped in his unforgiving hand.

 Harry took a few steps back, fear rushing through his veins at what the man was about to do. Was Harry not good enough today? Did the woman complain about her time with him? He was trying, he really was trying these days to be good for them all, just so they would finish quickly and leave him be even quicker.

 "Good job, Harry," Jace rewarded, and the bucket dropped onto the cold cement. Harry winced a little as the water sloshes over the rim from the force and falls to the ground. It's fresh water, and he wants it, wants to feel it glide down his rough throat and wants to rub off the drying sweat from his discoloured skin. "She really likes you, wants to see you again soon."

 Jace was the man that was supposed to love him, who promised to love him after he had taken Harry in when his parents died in a car accident when he was three. The papers he signed, the interviews he went through, it was all meant to be so that Harry would be loved. Harry thinks Jace did love him once, back when he was the sweet toddler who was still trying to figure out why he was living with a strange man and what had happened to his parents.

 But when Jace picked up the syringe and had his first hit, he loved that even more.

 Perhaps it wasn't love that had convinced Jace to foster Harry. Maybe he was planning this all along, to use Harry for his own personal gain once he was old enough to understand the dark things that Jace introduced him too. Harry's innocence was something that made him special, his milky smooth skin, his uncontrollably curly hair, his sweet dimples and his obnoxious smile, it was all part of the uncorrupted Harry that should have been preserved.

 But Harry changed all too soon, he learnt about sex at the mere age of eleven, and his frail body had been littered with bruises from when he was twelve and onwards, not a day passing where his skin would be clear of any aching contusions. He took his first fist to the face when he was thirteen, and his first kick to the ribs only a few days later. His first scar came in from a lit cigarette butt, tainting the skin on his shoulder when he was fourteen.

 It all took a turn for the worst though, when Harry accidently stumbled upon Jace and some women in their living room, her lips painted tackily and her eyes rimmed with black. Harry remembers the way she stared at him, the rosiness on his pale cheeks and his dark lips exciting her, pulling her away from Jace and towards the young boy.

 The word No had spilled from Jace's lips so fast that Harry had yet to understand what had just happened. But he stuttered when the lady held up a wad of cash and a bag of powder, the older man's eyes lighting up as his mind fought internally about the morals of the situation.

 He grabbed the boy's wrist and pulled him to his bedroom, having to hold him down once Harry realized what was going on. Harry screamed. He screamed so loud while the woman with the wad of cash and the bag of powder straddled his tiny body. He doesn't remember crying so much in his life.

 He unwantedly lost his virginity that day when he was fourteen.

 Strangers started to come and go after his sixteenth birthday, having their way with him on the soiled mattress in the cold basement. Harry became used to it after a while, and Jace thrives off the benefits; the drugs, the alcohol, the cash, the control. He loves it.

 When in reality, Jace was supposed to love Harry.

***

Disclaimer

 All characters, places and events that take place in this book are all fiction. Oakwood is a fictional suburb in London where this story will take place. This story is also my own and any other stories that are similar are purely coincidental. Besides his name and looks, the Harry Styles who appears in this book is in no way affiliated to the real Harry Styles.

This story will contain very explicit themes and scenes involving r.ape, alcohol&drugs and mental/s.exual/physical a.buse. It also may be triggering to some of you, so please only continue reading if you're comfortable with that sort of stuff.