THE CONMAN AND THE MAID // Harry Styles

Don't Turn Around

I was really emotional while writing this, probably because it's been raining this whole week here where I live, and rain makes me depressed *sigh*

Songs that inspired the chapter: Winter Bird - AURORA, In And Out Of Love - Oh Wonder, Salvation - Gabrielle Aplin, everything i wanted - Billie Eilish, Everybody Wants To Rule The World - Lorde, Wildest Dreams - Taylor Swift.

Next chapter: April 29, 2020. For Patreon: April 24, 2020.

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Reyna woke up with a sharp numbing pain above the hip. The room faded into view. She saw the grey ceiling, the early pale light pouring through the window, then Harry. He said something, his lips moving, yet she couldn't hear a single word; the buzzing in her ears was too loud.

Had she died in her sleep? It was the only good explanation for why Harry was here. But from what she'd been told, the moment after you died should be painless. Right now her body was aching all over.

She lifted her head and saw that her dress was bunched up right below her breasts, her bottom private parts covered by a blanket. The bruises scattered all over her arms and torso had gone from red to blue. She was already too pale; now she looked like one of those lifeless paintings displayed in her father's reading chamber.

It was only then that she noticed her wound was now coated with this black slimy fluid, and she almost freaked out when Harry applied some more to it with his black slimy fingers.

"This will heal you faster. Trust me," he said with his other hand on her knee.

She almost said she would trust him even if he led her to a cliff and asked her to jump. She was so madly in love with this man, it made her feel stupid, especially in this situation.

"What is that?" she asked and propped her head up.

"Magic," he replied, his lips curved a little. "Those sisters in the woods cured my wounds with these herbs, so I stole some just in case. I almost forgot that I kept them under the saddle." Then the corners of his lips lowered. "I'm so sorry. I didn't think we'd need them for this...For you."

The remorseful look in his eyes led her to believe that he meant it. This Harry was not the one who'd bellowed at her yesterday and made her feel like the most worthless being in the world. This Harry seemed like her Harry. She then pushed the idea to the back of her mind, so she wouldn't grow too attached to it.

Once Harry finished, he cleaned his fingers with a rag that he kept on his lap, and turned away so she could cover herself. She smoothed down her dress, careful not to touch her wound and pushed herself up to sit with her back against the wall.

"Do you know who did this to you?" he asked.

Her gaze shifted from his face down to her wound. "My brother sent him."

"Why does your brother want to hurt you?"

"Everyone wants to hurt me," she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

He considered her for a moment.

"Last night..."

Her head shot up as soon as she heard the words. It was only then that she remembered why he was here. He'd been here all night. She'd had a nightmare about the man at the market, woken up in the middle of the night, seen Harry, and crawled onto his lap. She remembered crying so hard she couldn't speak. She remembered him holding her like he used to. Like he didn't hate her.

Her tears threatened to spill, and she had to inhale a shaky breath to hold them back. Harry's mouth clamped shut before he even started his sentence. Perhaps he noticed her previous reaction and concluded that she didn't want to talk about last night.