lovestruck † hs

Chapter 66

"Rachel, I just want to help you. It's eating you alive! You're acting as if we're strangers again, you won't talk to me–"

"Maybe it'll pass," she says, more to herself.

"Rachel," I cross my arms.

"Harry, I just can't, I don't want you to freak out."

"What do you mean by that?"

Quickly she shakes her head and moves from the bathroom counter, heading for the door. "Just forget about it, I can't."

"We can't just leave this aside, baby–" I reach and gently tug at her sleeve to stop her from leaving me here, and when I tug at her sleeve, I see a large bruise from what looks like a hand covering her forearm.

Instantly when I notice, she takes her arm away from me, looking at me for any hint if I had seen it.

"What the hell is going on," I ask, though my words don't sound remotely close to a question.

I take her hand and bring her back to me. I lead her to stand in front of me, because avoiding confrontation now isn't an option.

"Rachel, who did this to you?" I lift up her chin slowly, my heart beating rapidly as my worry for her, and anger at whoever did this rises.

And still, she neglects to answer me.

"Your parents?"

That triggers her to respond with, "No.."

"Rachel, I will not tolerate this, I need to know why you have—" I quickly lift her other long sleeve to find another similar bruise along with some scrapes, "—bruises and cuts all over your arms!"

Suddenly she begins to cry, a lot. Her body falls to my chest in an embrace and my eyes can't control the few tears that make their way out. I lift my arm and run my hands through her hair, getting an "Oww, please don't," when I barely touch an area on her head; it was the part I tried kissing earlier.

I lean back to see her eyes red from crying as she looks up at me.

"Are you bruised here as well?"

Through sniffles she nods, saying, "I think so."

I hug her for a while more before whispering, "Will you please tell me what happened?"

I am surprised when I feel that she nods again against my chest, and I look down as she moves to look back at me.

Rachel gulps, obviously really nervous, and I can't help but wonder if I should be too.

"It actually starts before I moved here— or rather, it's why I moved here."

What is thirty minutes feels like hours that have passed of Rachel trying hard to explain everything. Everything. I feel as though I just learned so much about her because of what she went through. Everything that has happened in the past few months seems so reasonable now that I know what she went through. I get why she had fading bruises and why she even bothered to self harm, which hurts my heart. Though I am very pissed off that such a prick could hurt someone for no reason, I am also disappointed that when so many opportunities arrised where Rachel could've told me, so many times that I asked her to know what was going on so I could try to help her, she just wouldn't tell me something this big.

I am torn. How can I be disappointed in her? I shouldn't be. She went through a full out abusive relationship, so of course she did not want to tell anyone. She's even told me that her parents nor her cousins know of what she's told me.

I don't speak, just trying to process what I've actually been told, because I am in shock at the information and how brave it is that she's told me.