nobody's home; harry styles.

1.6.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"I don't want to go home but I got all my clothes and stuff there..." I bite my lip, something I tend to do when I feel nervous or anxious.

Harry's eyes travels from my glare to my lips, as he keeps staring at them.

"Hey! Harry!" I push him lightly, he focuses his eyes on mine.

"What did you say?"

I roll my eyes as I repeat my words, "I want to change my clothes but they're all in my house."

"Maybe your father is not in there, let's go." Harry takes my hand and intertwines our fingers.

We walk to my house's front yard and we try to look through the windows. It's empty, there's no one. This is rare, really rare.

"Would you mind staying at my house the whole week? I don't want to see your father near you." Harry offers, looking down at me.

Stay at Harry's for the whole week? Damn. It sounds great because I don't want to see my father; but in the other part, it's not right because I just met them. I could go to Zayn's house and stay there.

"I don't want to be a bother, H-" He interrupts me.

"You are not. My mom will understand, trust me."

I hate to say this but when Harry or Anne are close, I feel safe. I've been feeling like that since Harry entered my life a week ago.

"Uhm... Okay. I'm going to my bedroom to get some clothes." I tell him, walking to the front door.

Not going to lie, I'm fucking nervous.

"Can I go with you?" No, no, no.

If my father's in there, they are going to start fighting again. I'm not in the mood and I don't want to see that again.

"No. I'm going by myself."

"Why not? I won't touch anything, pinky promise." He raises his pinky finger at me and forces my finger to lace with his but I shake my head.

"It's not because of that," I say, sending him a small smile. "It's because I don't like to have people in my bedroom." I shrug as he pouts.

"Alright. I'm going to know your bedroom soon, anyways." He smirks, licking his lips.

"Sure." I roll my eyes again as I open the door.

"I'm going home, okay? I sound like a creep but I'll look through my window... I," He clears his throat, "I don't want anything to happen." I nod, going inside of my house.

I close the door trying not to make too much noise, I don't know if this place is as empty as I thought.

I'm scared. Not the kind of fear you feel when you're in the shower and you have to close your eyes because of the shampoo but you think that somebody is going to kill you, so you keep one eye open. No, I'm genuinely scared, I'm not being paranoid or dumb. I know the consequences I will have to face if my father is in here.

What if he's in here? What if he does the same thing he did to my mother? Am I afraid to die or am I afraid of him?

I begin to go upstairs when I hear his sharp voice, "Cassie..."

I close my eyes, my breathing increases as I feel the panic and the adrenaline running through my veins. What am I going to do?

I decide to face him, trying to show him that I'm not scared - which is obviously a big lie.

"John, please..." My eyes widen when I see the silverthing he's holding between his fingers. "Put that down." I point the knife as I hold the stair railing tighter, my knuckles are as pale as the milk.