Wake Me Up

I was 7 years old again, I could see my daddy in the distance, his his blonde hair fell onto his forehead, his hazel eyes sparkled as he laughed. My mum, she sat opposite of him, as she laughed, playfully hitting his shoulder. They looked happy, I smiled at the image that appeared before me. I looked like my mum, I had her auburn hair, and dainty body type, long and lean. But, I had my fathers eyes, a brownish grey that had flecks of green and gold that surrounded the edges.

Then the imaged changed, it was later that year, in the beginning of winter, my daddy helped me up the stairs, making sure I wouldn’t slip, before following behind me. When I opened the door, I looked around puzzled, our furniture, flung across our front room, my fathers clothes spewed across the dark hard wood. Immediately, my father went around, picking up his clothing folding it and putting it into a pile, while doing so, he pushed the sofa back into it’s original spot. My 7 year old self walked into my parents room, looking to see if anything else had been destroyed. When I reached my mum’s closet, everything was missing.

“Daddy!” I cried, greatly confused upon my founding. He swiftly made his way into the room, as he processed the mess, I called out to him. “Daddy, someone stole momma!” The tears spilled from my young hazel eyes and I fell to the floor. My knees hitting the hardwood was the only noise I heard.

She wasn’t stolen. I thought to myself in my 7 year old mindset, she wasn’t coming back. She had left us. She was gone. She didn’t care.

Now, the image flashed up a few years, I was now 14. My hair, pulled up into a high set pony tail, as I pulled down my sleeve covering up the bruises, five lines wrapped around my arm, leaving deep purple marks. I walked to the mirror, putting skin powder onto the fluffy brush, covering up the yellowing lines that covered my right cheek. By now, I had gotten used to the absent minded beating. My father had been self medicating himself with alcohol, and with the alcohol, he had a mean streak.

“What the hell do you think you’re going?” He slurred, the smell of alcohol reflecting off of his breath as he spoke. Harshly he pointed his finger at my chest, pressing in further making me take a step back. I swallowed my salvia, gulping for air as he stared at me with the eyes that stared back at me every morning as I covered up my bruises.

“Daddy, please.” I begged. Looking up at him with all the strength I had.

“Daddy, please,” He mocked me, before he struck a blow at my mid section, as I fell to the ground he hit me again, he caused a small squeal to come out of my mouth as I cried for him to stop.

“Daddy, please!” I cried. Screaming and crying as he pushed me into the wall causing me to topple over the swivel chair that positioned in front of the small desk that sat in my room. “Daddy!” I cried once again, trying to dodge the swings. I screamed as he hit me once again.

I felt a fierce shake as I was taken away from the horrible dream. A dream that was almost too real. A dream that was real, at one point. A large hand pushed my hair from my forehead. I looked up not realizing I was still at Harry’s his thin boxers still covered my assets, and a loose v neck clung to my body, I was covered in a thin layer of sweat.

“Shhhh, it’s okay.” Harry whispered as I looked around recognizing my surroundings. The dark duvet covered my shaking body as Harry lifted me to him, pressing me to his body as I continued to sob.

“It was just a dream,” Harry explained I could feel a heavy kiss landing in my thick waves, as he tried to comfort me. I nodded into his chest, but I continued to sob. The dream felt too real to be a dream. The picture of my father’s hand connecting with my face, fell before my eyes. The tears fell down, as Harry continued to stroke my hair with his large hand, pushing it from my face.

**
Harry’s Point of View:

I rubbed her back she she sobbed against my naked chest, I held her tightly to me as she continued to cry. Her tears spilled against my chest, the drops slid down like dew.

“Shh, it’s going to be okay,” I whispered into her ear, kissing her head. She didn’t stop though. She cried until her tears gave her those weird hiccups when you gasp for air every few seconds. She gradually calmed down, the tears fell fewer and fewer as she sat up wiping her eyes. I pushed a piece of hair behind her small ear, her face stained red with fear and her eyes full of fear.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, I was curious to see what made her so upset. She lightly shook her head denying the question.

“Are you sure?” I asked once again.

“I don’t remember what the dream was about...” She said, something lead me to believe that these words were not truthful, her deep hazel eyes peered into mine.

“Then there isn’t anything to be scared of.” I whispered. “I’ll protect you.” I said into her ears, stealing a small kiss from her tear stained cheek.

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” She whispered.

“Don’t be,

“I should really go,” She said glancing at the clock that read 6 o’clock am. I awkwardly shifted around her, releasing her from my grasp, but as she began to get up, I grabbed her wrist.

She winced a little at my touch, before she looked down at me. “Please stay,” I whispered.

“I’ve got work, and it takes a while when walking,” She explained, rising from the bed as I released her thin wrist from the grasp of my large hands.

She began to pick up her dress, and other garments, as she walked to the bathroom to change. I sat on the edge of my large bed, I was determined to find out what that dream was about. I needed to know how to protect her from what scared her. She walked in placing the folded t-shirt and boxers on my dresser, her hair was tied up into a ponytail as the clothes from yesterday clung to her body. Her make up was washed from her cheeks, her tears had caused the black to run down into little streams upon her cheeks.

“I could take you,” I said. She looked at me puzzled. “I can take you to the bakery, and I could pick you up if you’d like.” I offered.

“I erm, no it’s fine, I don’t mind walking,” She trailed off.

“No, I insist, it’s cold.” She nodded excepting my offer.