((Trigger warning: råpe))
There's not an actual râpe scene in this chapter but Harry does talk about an experience he had
Reminiscing the memories of my father and me was not very common in my sad, little life in South Wales. But I knew he would have a word or two to say about this. I was stood weakly outside the abandoned warehouse, at least it was 'abandoned' to anyone who didn't know what went on in there.
Staggering nervously to the back, I left my motorcycle by itself and clenched my fists in the cold air. There was a rusty door which Clyde and I previously entered from, so I decided to give it a second try.
I brought my knuckles to the metal door and gave it a harsh knock. Seconds past, and I kept silent. But as more moments went by, I could faintly hear footsteps trudging behind it. Then it opened, and there stood a middle aged woman with wrinkled lips, bleached hair and heavy, gold jewellery hiding any visible part of her neck, wrists and ears. She was tall, much taller than me. It was intimidating, and even more so because I didn't recognise her.
She didn't speak, she just awaited me to inform her of something hopefully useful. "Uh... Marco wanted to talk to me. Is-Is he here?"
"Is anyone with you?" She asked with a scowl, and it was hard to not notice her heavy Russian accent.
In response I stupidly turned around to check, and then I swiftly stood straight and turned back towards her. "No."
"Okay," She scoffed, and sharply stood aside for me to enter. I couldn't help but take a whiff of her tobacco infused breath as she breathed directly into my vulnerable face. "Take off your coat."
"M-My coat?" I murmured in confusion. "Why do I have to take off my coat?"
"Security purposes," She bit back. "Now I'm going to search you."
She mercilessly yanked my trench coat from my body and left me in just a t shirt and jeans. I was about to cross my arms in the harsh, cold air but she suddenly pried them apart, and her hands pressed onto my torso.
"Woah, no. Uh, this is very unnecessary-"
"I must make sure you're not carrying any weapons." She instructed in a blunt yet determined tone.
"You're not going to find anything by pinching my nipples." I tried my best not to giggle as she tickled me in my non consented search.
She palmed my thighs and I jumped back in fright, but then she stood straight and cleared her throat. "You're safe."
I was mortified and felt extremely violated. But if I even spoke of it in a serious tone, no one would care. If anything, they'd find it funny. I've had a lot worse done to me than this, and not once have I ever told a soul. If I had sex with women for a living, then who would take me seriously if I spoke up on times where the woman did something that I never consented to? Apparently sexual assault doesn't happen to people who get paid for being sexual, and it's even worse in my case because nobody thinks it would ever happen to a man. I've learned from when I was younger to never accept a drink from a client... Because you will definitely lose consciousness and find yourself waking up half naked and robbed. All I knew was that I'm severely allergic to Rohypnol.
I snapped myself from the dark side of my brain and returned to normality.
"Follow me," She deeply spoke, and with that she began taking off down the long, narrow corridor which clouded with smoke. She suddenly came to a stop, and gave me a look. "You might want to hold your breath."
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Call Boy. (Harry Styles Fan Fiction) on holdFanfiction
Harley Thomas; an anxiously wrecked Christian who thrives on judging those who sin. Harry Styles; an emotionally wrecked Atheist who thrives on sinning.