Broken Misery (H.Styles Fanfic)

Chapter 14

Previously on Broken Misery :

His grip on the steering wheel tightens and he chuckles humorlessly. "Sure. Please, feel free to jump out of the car and call a taxi. I'll slow down to five miles per hour not to hurt you. It'll be painful enough when you get kidnapped and raped repeatedly."

"Been there, done that," I mutter, but instantly regret it. His eyes widen instantly the size of tennis balls and his lips part. The alcohol makes my cheek warm in embarrassment, tingles running up and down my spine with the fear of provoking Harry like I used to, and I can remember the exact feeling of his palm on my cheek when I would make a comment like this. He'd get so angry, so scary, my heart would practically stop beating at the sight of him so upset.

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Chapter 14

I run my thumbs under my eyes and wipe the tears, failing to hide my fear. It doesn't help when Harry doesn't say anything. He simply looks forward to the road and keeps both hands tightly wrapped around the steering wheel, knuckles almost turning white from the grip. His Adam's apple bobs up and down harshly a few times, but he still keeps his thoughts to himself. I can easily tell how angry he is, just by his face turning red and the smoke I imagine coming out of his ears like a cartoon, but I'm glad he doesn't speak up. Who knows what would come out of his mouth at his point, Meanwhile, I pull out my phone from the front pocket of my coat, only to find a single message from Alfie asking to text him when I get home. The letters aren't clear and I know better than to let my drunk self send drunk messages, so I lock my phone and put it back -

My phone doesn't make it back to my pocket. Harry's large hand takes it directly from my small palm and he throws it carelessly in the backseat, but it flies against the back window. Hard.

"What the hell was that for!"

"You deserve a lot better than a fucker who can't even control his girlfriend," he hisses through his teeth. "I may have done quite a lot of mistakes but I wouldn't let you get hurt willingly."

A small sarcastic chuckle escapes from my lips. "Sure you wouldn't. You did the mess yourself, it was probably easier on your conscience."

"Fucking hell, Elena! You know that's not true," he shouts as he hits his fist on the steering wheel with such incredible force, the whole car practically shakes. "You know what? Fine. Text loverboy, thank him for getting you hammered and I'm fucking sorry if all I wanted was to look out for you."

"Well I can't text him now that my phone is broken," I argue back, sighing. The alcohol and the car ride are making me sleepy. And I can't actually check whether or not my phone is broken since it's currently sitting somewhere in the back of the car, probably even in the trunk, but after the rough shock it took, I'd be surprised if it wasn't completely shattered.

"Your phone is not broken, for Fuck's sake. Why do you have to be such a dramatic bitch all the time?"

I take a whole minute to swallow his words down, and even then I still choke on them. A dramatic bitch. Harry just called me a dramatic bitch, and for some reason, probably the beer, it feels worse than being called a whore. At least, somewhere deep inside, I knew I wasn't a whore. But a bitch? Earlier at the pub, I did call him mean...

The tears fall freely now and I have absolutely no control on them. At this point, my tear ducts and my brain are no longer connected. Harry's face shows no remorse whatsoever, his eyes free of shame and guilt. His hands are back gripping firmly the steering wheel, his foot pressing harder on the accelerator, but he ignores my cries as I pull my legs against my chest and rest my chin on top of my knees.