Eucatastrophe ~ h.s.

✗ thirty-seven ✗

"Harry stop!" I cry out. He smiles evilly down at me taking both of my hands in one large hand of his. His other hand is still resting upon my cheek, but it begins to slide downward. His fingertips tickle the skin of my jaw, then my neck, then my chest. I cry out as my eyes watch his hand, traveling lower. I nearly lose it when I realize I'm no longer wearing anything other than a lace bra and matching panties. "Harry, please. Stop!" I cry out, fighting against his grip but my body still feels heavy. I'm losing this battle.

"Uh-uh." He says to me, his hand now placed on my hip. His thumb digs into my protruding hipbone as a scream finally leaves my lips.

Once I start screaming, I can't stop.

I scream for anyone to hear me. I scream to the people on the streets, walking past the entrance of the alleyway, but they don't hear me. They continue to walk, like they don't hear my screams or see me struggling.

They're completely oblivious to what's happening.

"Stop squirming so much, Shay." He seethes out; his once comforting voice now creating fear deep inside me. I've never been so scared to hear his voice until now.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"You know why." He accuses, seeming to grow angry at the mere question. I want nothing more to shrivel up and die, but getting out of this situation won't be that easy. "It's not mine." My brows furrow, his words not making a lick of sense. "It's not mine, Shay, we both know that." I stare up at him, his green eyes shifting from anger to a bit of sadness, before turning black with anger again.

"What's not yours Harry? What?" The tears streams down my cheeks as I scream up at him, my eyes shifting back and forth between his angry ones.

"The baby, Shay, the fucking baby." He screams, his voice echoing throughout my swirling head.

"Harry, please, let me go!" He shakes his head, his long hair falling in front of his eyes for a brief instant. I wince out in pain as his thumb digs deeper against my bone, fears the bone will crack any moment surface my mind.

"I can't be with you if it's not mine." He says to me, my glossy eyes meeting this again. His black pupils seem to take up his entire eye as his fist around my hands tightens and so does his grip on my hip. "So, I'm going to make it mine."

"Stop, Harry!"

"You deserve this for what you did to me!" He snarls, his voice echoing in my head as I cry.

"What are you talking about?" I cry out as his fingers dig deeper into my skin, surely bruising. I scream, my hands no longer incased in his, but my arms fall like limp pasta to the ground. I can't move them. "I didn't do anything to you!" I cry, squeezing my eyes shut to try and block out his voice and the pain coming from my hip. "But I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Harry. Please, don't do this; it's not my fault. I'm so sorry." His breath tickles my neck before his lips make contact with my skin, but they feel different.

They don't feel as soft as they once did. They don't feel as plump as they used to. The slight stubble above his top lip doesn't exist.

My eyes spring open and I jerk my head to the side at Harry's voice in my ear, a sob leaving my lips at the person sitting on top of me. He sits tall, his body weight weighing my hips down. I can't fathom to look at him any longer, the image of him creating the tears that pool on the dirty street below me.

His green eyes are full of amusement and anger. The smug grin on his lips is evident. His brown hair hangs perfectly off of his head and he's now dressed, no longer without a shirt. His suit looks out of place in this alleyway. The pressed fabrics making him look like he should belong at a dinner party, not in the side alley on some London street in the middle of the night.