OCD ➳ Larry Stylinson

Chapter Nineteen: Missing

I didn't trust him with himself is all. He self harmed and had OCD, two bad combinations. So I drove to his house, and this time, I actually plucked up enough courage to get out and ring the doorbell. After a second of waiting, the door was swung open, revealing a deranged looking women.

I was a little taken back by her appearance, and what I had previously planned on saying slipped my mind completely.

"I, uh, is... Harry here?" I finally managed, feeling intimated by the mascara smeared drunk women I assumed to be his mother.

"He's not available," she snickered lowly, before slamming the door shut square in my face.

I stepped back from the brown door, shocked at how rude Harry's apparent mother was. I couldn't take that as my answer though, so I ringed it again. The women answered again, her expression changing from annoyance to anger.

"I'm sorry Ma'am, I just really need to see Harry. My name is Louis Toml-"

"Wait, you're real?" Harry's mum cut me off, suddenly opening the door more and staring at me with her mouth gaped open.

"Yes.... I'm real," I said after a short pause, being taken back from the question. Of course I'm real.

She looked at me for a few more seconds. "I thought he made you up."

Made me up? That's ridiculous. Harry was my best mate, no doubt. I loved him, I did. I was the only person that could even touch him. He loved me too. I wanted to be with him all the time. I loved his company. I loved his voice and his eyes and his giggle. I loved his smile and his jokes and everything he did, even if it was repeating tasks or rearranging pencils, I loved him. I wanted to kiss him, no, no I wanted to marry him.

I shook my head. Harry was straight, he has to be. He was. Right? I shook my head at that and focused back on Harry's mum.

"Can I, um, see him? Please?" I spoke slowly, pleading.

She looked me over for a second or so, before slamming the door in my face. It took me a second to realize, and I couldn't help but frown. How could sweet, innocent Harry be related to that women?

Walking back to my car, I pulled out my phone and sent Harry one last text before hopping in and driving home. We had a lot to talk about. I didn't know how he would react if I told him about Niall transferring to our school.

*

[Harry's POV]

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I could hear my phone go off from outside the basement door. It happened through out the day. twelve texts and five misses calls. They were from Louis, they had to be, but I couldn't answer them. I was stuck.

My thighs burned from the night before, and having my jeans constantly rub against the cuts made it a million times worse. I was cold. My whole body shook from how cold I was. My toes were the equivalent of Popsicles. The only form of warmth I had was a small, dusty blanket that I didn't dare touch.

I was hungry, too. I hadn't eaten in at least 10 hours, which was not healthy. Overall, I really wanted to get out of that hell hole. My brain was tired, as I barley slept, so I let my head fall back towards the wall I was positioned against.

I knew my mom would be bringing me some form of food soon, like she always did, which worried me. There was a small puddle of blood from the cutting, and I had nothing to clean it with. My jeans also had blood stains on them. I realized that maybe cutting wasn't the best idea, but when is it ever?

Alright, so there was an old roll of paper towels hidden away that I could clean with, but just like the blanket, I was not going where near it. I hated this place. I hated everything. I felt gross, looked gross, and my leg really, really hurt.

Minutes passed by like hours as I sat on the cold, concrete floor. My brain felt like it needed to be used, but my body was sore and wanted nothing but rest. I occupied myself by counting the steps, but there were only 6 so it was easy. So I repeated this process until it got boring. But my brain still wanted to be doing some something, so I started to tap my fingers on the floor. First to 50, then back down again. I did this multiple times.

My phone buzzed from outside the door where I dropped it the night before, which made me feel uneasy. What if something was wrong? What if Louis needed me? But all I could do was sit in an old basement, imprisoned by my own mother.

Just I expected, my mum's footsteps soon echoed from outside the door. My heart sped up and I glanced at the small puddle of blood, contemplating what to do. Her footsteps were closing in, so I grabbed the blanket and threw it over the puddle just as she opened the door. The sudden movements pulled on my tender muscles, making me wince. When my mum was at the bottom of the steps, I could see she was carrying a small tub of what looked like a sandwich, along with a damp washcloth.

I looked the opposite direction, my heart still pounding, as she kneeled down in front of me.

"Your poor face," she spoke softly, making my stomach turn. She was in her good mood again.

She held the wet cloth up to my face, where some dried blood was. I flinched from her touch, causing her to frown.

"We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. I just want to help," her voice was way too gentle, and I almost wanted her help.

But then I remembered why she was helping me. That monster was the reason for my black eye and my split lip. She was the reason my ribs hurt the reason my thighs burned.

no

your thighs burned because you're a freak

I didn't want her to touch me, I didn't. But what choice did I have? So I let her dab my skin with the cloth, feeling uneasy and almost sick. Why was she doing this? Why did she act like a monster one second and then an angle the next? I wanted to cry, or run, or call someone. I wanted to call Louis. I needed him, because I was scarred. But I couldn't do anything. I had to stay seated in a dingy basement, letting my mother clean my face. The face that wouldn't need to be cleaned if she hadn't beaten me.

"See, that wasn't so bad?" she spoke when my face was blood free.

I was crying. Tears were rolling down my cheeks silently, but all she did was pout and wipe one away with her thumb, causing me to flinch again. She sighed.

"Harry, you're safe."

"Why do you do this?" I choked out, looking at her.

"I only hurt you because I thought you lied, but now I see you didn't," she said after a pause. I gave her a look, urging her to continue, but she said no more. She looked at me for a long while, tucking some hair behind my ears.

"I'll let you out in an hour, okay?" I nodded. It was all I could do without my body aching even more.

She put the tub containing the sandwich next to me, and kissed the top of my head.

"I love you," she whispered before walking out, leaving me in an empty room surrounded by nothing but my own thoughts. I glance at the sandwich, but I felt too sick to eat. I hated her. I didn't love her. Why did she love me? I was worthless. All I did was take up space.

I glanced at the shard of glass by the blocked off window, the one that still dripped with my own blood.

One more cut wouldn't hurt.

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A/N

So shit has happened in the Larry fandom (RIP Always In My Heart) SO heres an update to hopefully help heal your heart a little... though OCD harry is also going through shit too so....

Sorry this took so long. It's been almost 3 weeks and that is so not okay. Im sorry guys.

PLEASE VOTE/COMMENT ON THIS! IT WILL HELP ME UPDATE FASTER!