Wake Me Up

Upon returning home from work, blinding light shone through the windows across the room of my apartment, blinding my eyes. Last night's clothes hung loosely off my body, and smelled of Harry's cologne. Collapsing into my bed, heat radiated into my cold, aching and sore body. After a few seconds, I mustered up the motivation, courage, and strength to go into the bathroom.

Cold wood creaked beneath my feet. I was startled by the face in the mirror. Hints of makeup smeared across my face, hair ratted and faded, bags hung below my dull eyes. Purple dots surrounded by odd shades of yellow, red and blue wrapped around my wrists. The most terrifying part was my back. Demon like scratch marks went from the top of my shoulders all the way down to the back of my hips.

Stripping from my clothes and throwing them as far as possible, I climbed in the shower, turned scalding water on me, stinging my scratches. The makeup disappeared, the bags faded, and my hair found life again, but my scratches, bruises, and painful memories of last night didn't.

The dark eyes and soul I saw last night flashed under my eyelids. A deep raspy voice echoed through my head, sending shivers down my spine.

I had no idea what to do, where to go, nothing seemed to feel right today.

'Coffee shop in 10?' I texted to my friend Rachel.

Almost instantly, a buzz alerted me of a message, 'Yes :)'

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I waited, sitting in the back of our favorite coffee shop, sipping a white chocolate cappuccino; soft denim boyfriend capris ticked my freshly shaven legs, and an ultra baggy grey jumper sagged over my torso. A familiar face soon appeared on the outside of the glass door. Smooth, chocolate colored skin, and a curly afro of black curls came closer and sat down with me. Rachel's teeth always look pure white in contrast to her dark skin.

A wave of relief washed over me, just after seeing her, and my smile proved my point.

Her smooth accent made me forget everything that has happened, the dream, last night, "Well aren't you looking mighty chipper today?"

"You could say that," Hesitantly, I replied, chewing on my lip.

"What's got you down, love?" Rachel's head cocked to the side, a concerned look filled her eyes.

Standing up, I grabbed her hand, dragging her to the bathroom.

Inside, we were alone. Reaching behind me, I yanked my jumper up, exposing the trail of Harry's fingernails.

Speechless, all Rachel did was stand there. She was the type of person who looked as soft as a pillow on the outside, but was harder than a rock on the inside.

Returning my sweatshirt to its intended spot, she asked, "Who did this to you?"

"A new neighbor, two doors down the hall from me. He took me to dinner, and out dancing. He's rather controlling, and he said that I was his now. But don't worry," I tried to reassure her I was alright, "There's nothing to worry about."

"Nothing to worry about?!" Rachel looked around, her voice had become loud and booming. Quietly, she finished, "You can't say that's nothing to worry about. What's his name?"

"Harry Styles."

A blank face stood in front of me, no emotion, until her lips parted to take a breath. It looked like her brain was registering the name I had spoken. Eerily, almost quieter than a whisper, I heard her apologize as she darted out of the bathroom, "I'm sorry."

And with that, she was gone.

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(Harry POV)

I was racking my brain, thinking of how I was going to get through to Drew, apologize for how I behaved and what I had done to her.

Anger flowed through my veins, I could have any girl I wanted. The hot mysterious guy down the hall gets every girls panties wet. Yet, the girl I want, is the only one who doesn't feel the same.

I only had one option to get rid of the anger in me. Hopping in my car, I sped off to the gym.

My boxing gloves fit perfectly, and the term 'fit like a glove' couldn't be more accurate. They came in contact with the punching bag, making it swing towards and away from me. Light taps of my feet hit the ground as they shifted their weight. Every muscle in my body flexed, tensed, then relaxed. Beads of sweat soaked through my shirt, dripped down my brow and drenched my hair.

Eyes turned to look at me, a horde of people. Everything I was feeling, every ounce of anger, pity, sadness, everything, was going into the object in front of me. The heavy bag became my target until my throat was raw, my muscles aching, and my lungs feeling like flames were inside of them.

I dropped to my knees, tilted my head back, and focused only on the rapid beating of my heart.

Ba boom. The way her eyes looked when she was scared.

Ba boom. The cringe of her face as she protested.

Ba boom. The pain I brought to her, the pain I caused her. I did it.

As I rose, stares still lingered. My expression darkened, and only one goal was inside me: to get out of there.

Pushing through other sweaty bodies, I left the gym. Fresh air hit me like a wave. Before thinking, I took off, running towards home.

It would take me a good 35 minutes to get home. Perfect.

--

I was drenched, head to toe, in sweat. My veins pulsed almost twice every second. Shaky legs carried me up the stairs and towards my flat until I came in contact with another body.

She was trying to unlock her door.

While inhaling, she spoke, "Harry…"