Sold // Harry Styles

Chapter 4

“Just get it over with, Harry!” I scream but it only comes out as a whisper.

My body involuntarily begins to shake and I can’t control it.  Harry doesn’t say anything and I’m too afraid to look at him.

Something lightly touches my arm, sending a chill all over my body.

“Stop!” I shriek as I move away from the thing.  “Please don’t kill me!”  I sob into my hands.

I feel like there’s not enough air in this room.  My lungs can’t keep up with my breathing.  I cough and choke on the dry air that seeps into my throat.

“Jackie, Jackie! It’s okay! It’s just my hand,” Harry says fast.  “Shh,” he says quickly and softly.  He rubs my arm awkwardly, probably unsure of what to do.  The whole room is illuminated as he turns on the lamp beside the bed.  His soft, green eyes look back at me with worry traced within the irises.  “I’m not going to hurt you.”

I pull my bottom lip into my mouth, harshly biting on the chapped skin that soon begins to bleed again.  I can’t feel any pain though--my entire body is too numb to feel any sort of pain.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he says.

Silence fills the air.  The only thing audible is my jagged breaths.

“Look,” Harry says cutting the silence.  “I know you’re really scared and you’re confused and you don’t trust me but I promise you that I won’t do a thing to you.”

My teeth clatter against each other, the stubborn tears refusing to listen to me.  The first one crawls down my face and the second one follows in pursuit.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Harry coos as he sees the first few tears.

He wraps his arms around my body and I pull back slightly from his touch.  He hesitates when he realizes he’s made me uncomfortable, but he doesn’t take his arms away.  He rubs small circles into my back, making more tears escape my eyes unwillingly.

“I thought maybe you’d like to sleep in comfier clothes,” Harry says holding up my bag.  “You dropped it back at Eastside.”

He offers me a small smile and I take it from his hands without saying a word or acknowledging his generosity.

“Well,” he says standing up as I dig in the duffle bag, pulling out a pair of sweats and a t-shirt.  “I guess I’ll be in the living room…if you need anything.  Like anything.  I don't care.  Even if you just want to talk...or something.  I can talk if you want to talk.  I mean...if you wanna talk.  I'm not forcing you to talk.  I can also shut up and listen too.  I can--”  He stops midsentence, looking up to meet my gaze. He scratches the back of his neck with one hand before running it through his curls.  “Do you need anything?”  He abruptly changes the subject.

I shake my head, not replying with any words.  If I wasn't so scared right now, and Harry was considered my friend, I think I would have smiled at his awkward rambling.

“Okay,” he says as he starts to walk away.  He stops in the doorway without turning around.  “You don’t have to hold your breath while sleeping.  Just relax.”

His words run through my mind.  Just relax.

How the hell do I relax in a murderer’s house?

“Thank you,” I say quietly though I’m not even sure if he heard me.

---

I slept well considering what had happened just last night.  The events took a toll on me and made me incredibly tired, I suppose.  I sit up in bed and rub at my crusty eyes.  The dried tears can be felt on my lashes.