Bloodlust (A Harry Styles Fanfic)

/15/

picture: where harry lived

Charlotte

I slowly followed Harry into his house, staying as far away from him as possible. We headed into the kitchen and we sat down at the table.

I sat the the farthest end of the table, hearing Harry sigh after I sat down.

"I don't know where to start, to be honest." Harry spoke now, breaking the eerie silence.

"Well, you better start somewhere, because I want answers. Cole isn't talking to me now because I thought this was all fake. Apparently not. So, start talking."

Harry didn't talk for a moment.

"I'm a vampire." He said now.

I sucked in a breath.

He paused again.

"I was born in England in 1882. I lived there until around 1900 and I officially left in 1901. I've been frozen at 18 since I got turned in 1900."

I conjured up a list of questions to ask Harry in my head.

"Did you murder your sister?" I blurted out the first thing on my mind.

Harry looked taken aback, as if shocked I'd even suggest that.

"No, I'd never lay a hand on Genevieve. She was the happiness in my dark world. I loved her." He said, pain appearing in his eyes again. I debated on asking if him he killed  all those people in tons of European countries and all over the United States, but I decided to leave that unanswered for now.

Before I could ask any more questions, Harry started talking again.

"I'm guessing you want to know more about my background in England and who turned me and so forth, so I'll tell you about that."

He took a deep breath.

"I lived on the poor side of Victorian England in a cramped, one room apartment with my mother, my father and 11 year old sister Genevieve. My dad worked in the shipbuilding yards, building ships. He got three shillings an hour. My mum worked at a sweat shop, making cheap mass clothing and uniforms. The pay for her job was pitifully low. The conditions were horrible to top it off. I started working as a peddler when I was only 8, selling things on the streets like roasted chestnuts, newspapers, fish, and more. My sister stayed home and managed the apartment, even though it wasn't much to manage. As a family, we earned about 20 shillings a week, which wasn't much at all. That paid our rent and earned us a sparse dinner of boiled potatoes and bread. We barely had anything."

I looked at him intently.

"When I was around 15 and Genevieve was 8, my father was killed in an accident at the yards. A wooden beam being used to build a ship dropped and fell on him, crushing his skull. My mother and sister were heartbroken. Genevieve was very close with my father. I on the other hand, was closer with my mother. So two years later, when my mother killed herself, unable to deal with the fact that her husband was dead and she had to raise two children on her own, I was the one that was heartbroken. But at this point, Genevieve was still upset because now she didn't have any parents. I had to raise her all by myself. I still peddled as a teenager, and Genevieve took Mum's place in the sweatshop."

"When I turned 18, these four guys started hanging around my stand. They weren't even buying my stuff. They just talked to me. Asked me where I lived, if I had any siblings, and stuff like that. I ended up becoming kind of friends with them. I enjoyed their company and it was nice to be around other people. Their names were-" Harry paused, swallowing hard.