Military Love » Harry Styles

chapter fourteen

Half an hour later the exercise was wrapped up and we were ordered to come down. I had only succeeded in climbing up a few metres but was proud nonetheless. The smirk Sergeant Styles had given me really bothered me.

I was walking with Melissa and Agnes, our clothes still drenched from the cold water exercise. When someone tugged at my camouflaged clothes. Agnes and Melissa, recognizing who pulled me back, said nothing and speeded up their walking.

Frustration filled me as his amused eyes kept staring at me. It was hard to drop the argument since that would only make me seem weak, so I started my defence mode and sent back some insulting comments and remarks.

"Don't act like that" I said stepping backwards, almost colliding with the thin brown tree who according to my sergeant resembled my personality.

"Like what"

"A jerk" I spat back

"I am not acting like one Violet." It was one of the first times he had talked to me by my first name and somehow it felt weird hearing my name coming out of his mouth.

"Oh right, you are one" I gave him a snide remark and this time an amused smile played on my lips instead of his as his faded into a faint pink line.

"Don't talk to me like that" He spat back after a few seconds of silence, he obviously needed time to think about a good insult.

"Like what"

"Like the whole world is about you. You are just another rude little princess who gets everything from her daddy and when things get worse you just turn around and walk back to the safe side. It's always the same with your kind."

"Excuse me" I stuttered. "My kind?"

"Your kind, the rude and selfish ones." A grin playing on his lips, ignorant about the fact that he was hurting me. He knew he was out to hurt me, and I was not sure if he cared.

"And what about you? You're not selfish?" I said taking a step forward to him.

"I've been serving my country for over five years, I think I've sacrificed enough to be not selfish." He shrugged it off, proud of his achievements. I thought of my father, how he could've said something like that. But he never really did, or at least, would've had the chance to.

"You-" I didn't finish my sentence, because if I would I know I would be in more trouble than I would be in by now.

I decided he wasn't worth it any more time and decided to walk off. He was rude, I was mad, end of the story. Though it seemed to him that I had lost the battle and decided to rub it in with his last comment.

"Run back to your daddy, and don't come back!" I could feel his obvious smirk burning in my back. I would do anything to find the courage to turn around on my heels, walk over to him and give him a smack in the face.

And finally, I found it. All these years of accepting horrible things, and saying it didn't bother me, I was done with it. It was time to stick up for me, instead of others.

I turned on the heel of my left foot, mud squeezing under the pressure of it. I slowly walked over to him, he with a face full of confusion and even some angst.

I pursed my lips and raised my hand back. I threw my hand forward as hard as I could, whipping it across his face. The crack of skin contacting his' echoed off in the woods. Vibrations of pain started in my palm and spread all the way to my fingertips.

My palm was bright red, the same red mark that matched the one on his face. He stared at me with his eyes wide as his hand slowly made it to his fire red cheek.

I didn't have a choice but run away, as far as I could. I didn't know where I was heading, but it seemed like it didn't matter to me. I had to get out of there. The angst that had been on his face when my hand palm collided with his cheek –which sometimes showed dimples- was indescribable.

"Oh and for the record" I turned around. "My dad is dead."

--

After what seemed of miles of running I reached the camp again. All these miles I never heard someone following me, so I decided to walk instead of running when was halfway through the distance.

The big buildings seemed so small and fragile, but as soon as I stood in front of the rooms that the girls and I slept in. I sighed before pulling down the door handle and walking into the darkroom. After seconds of my hands scraping against the unpolished wall, I found the light switch and switched it on.

I reached the back of the rather large room, where my bed was situated. The first thing that came into my head was to grab my journal and report what had happened today.

One day I was going to reread the thing and laugh and smile, proud of what I had achieved. As soon as I felt the pen pressure against my sweaty palms and finger tips, the loopy curls of my hand writing were found on the page.

I am never sure about what I want, but I am always sure about what I don't want. Today was a rare day.

 Faith decided it was a good idea to let me bump into the bastard. It seemed for only a second that he had a fragile state, something in him was broken.

At least, that was what I believed, until he decided to call me out in front of the whole group as unstable and numb. I guess the only thing that came to my mind is slapping him. 

It was like a wave which came over me, the courage I mean. I felt like the past few years everybody has been walking over me and it was finally time that I showed myself and choose for me instead of others.

Just when I was about to write in more detail how the angst was displayed in his face, the door busted in by several sweaty women who were absolutely exhausted. As soon as they saw me they ran over to me and gathered around the bunk bed I was currently laying in.

I quickly closed my diary and hid it under my cushion before one of the first girls could reach me.

"How did you find the courage to tell him that?" One of them squealed. I snickered but before I could react another girl was yelling something.

"He looked so pissed, you should've seen his face when you ran off." So they must've stayed somewhere close to me and Sergeant Styles to follow the whole conversation. My cheeks turned red from embarrassment. I wish I would've told them about my dad earlier.

"I bet that red mark is still on his face" One of them laughed as I laughed along with them. I jumped off the bunk bed I was on and now my bare feet were touching the ground.

I heard the door open and close but thought it was one of the girls so I started talking with my back facing the door as I grabbed my diary and threw it into my bag and bowing down to close the bag.

"Well, since he could only act like an absolute jerk I decided it was time to tell that man what he was worth. It may be wrong to have slapped him, but it felt so right. He deserved it." Before I could say something more I could feel a cold hand, grabbing my wrist so tightly.

His lips pushed in a thin line and one hand was thrown back into his hair to push it backwards, creating an even bigger mob of curls. Most of the time this mob of curls would've been hidden under his sergeant hat, but this time they were free to look at.

"I didn't deserve it, princess." I clenched my teeth tightly together as his grip tightened around my wrist.

"You're totally wrong" he repeated again while setting more pressure onto the wrist which belonged to me.

"You made the dumbest mistake in your life Violet" He said before quickly turning around, glancing at the people surrounding us and yelling at them to leave.

"Leave!" He again yelled. "Now!" The girls didn't let him say that twice before running off to the door and within a five seconds the room was empty.

"Never talk to me like that again" He whispered as his hot breath was fanning in my neck.

"Never"