stress reliever ♡00:20

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- Saturday afternoon-

"I'll see you in the next meeting Harry." Mr. Wilson smiles his forehead and eyes wrinkling at the kind gesture. I shake his hand before he places them on the wheels of his wheelchair and leaves. I smile to myself looking out the window, I've been so stressed lately that I didn't even bother taking a shower before going to work, instead I woke up at 6 am to get here early. The boss, waking up at 6 am, great.

I breath in relief and continue to work on the documents on my table which was needed for next weeks meeting. I feel much better knowing I've signed a million dollar deal with one of the best business man in America. The telephone rings, breaking my attention from the papers. I look down to see the my assistant calling me.


"Mr. Styles, we have Mr. Desmond at the lobby, wanting to speak to you."

"I don't recall him having a meeting with me. So tell him to fuc.k off."

"I-I can't tell the receptionist to say that sir.. he's your father and he'll sack her."

"Go downstairs and tell him I'm not available because my rich ass is too busy making deals and becoming a bigger billionaire that I already am. Tell him to go back to his tiny house with his dumb children and dumb wife and get drunk and continue to be his disappointing self."

I slam the telephone on the table, closing my eyes and rubbing my temples. He just had to ruin my day. The son of a bitch still has the audacity to come here and try to talk to me. Not after he hurt my sister, mum and I.


"Mum, I'm home!" I yell closing the front door. "Harry!" I hear my mum scream, panic lacing through her voice. "Mum?!" I follow the voices around the house and stop to see my mother on the bathroom floor, a large red mark plastered on her cheeks as tears rush out of her eyes. I lunge at my drunken father before he pushes me away. I fall to the ground and he climbs on top of me, punching my stomach.

He stands up, laughing as I cough and wince at the pain "You really think your tiny skinny arms can do anything little boy?" "You think you're all grown? A tough man?!" He slurs his words. Anger and pain grow inside of me before I use my leg, sweeping his. Making his oversize body fall to the ground, a fire of hurt burned inside of me and I stand up, breathing in and out before punching and kicking the monster out of his senses.

"I" punch.

"WILL" punch.

"ALWAYS" punch.

"BE A" punch.



"THAN YOU!" I looked at his face- his nose broken and lip busted. I rush to my mum and help her up, holding her broken soul in my arms. "We'll get through this, we'll move far away mum. It's going to be okay, I'm going to make sure of it."


I was 15 and now 23. I rub my face shaking my head and continue to work before my telephone rings again.

"What now?!" I yell onto the phone.

"S-sorry, Mr. Styles, I'm meant to call Mr. Malik but he's in a meeting a-"

I rub my face, pulling at my hair before cutting her off. "What do you need Linda?"

"There's a little girl down the lobby asking for Mr. Malik. I'll just send her to The Malik Co. and tell her to wait ther-"

"What's her name?"

"Clementine, sir."

"Oh.. no, um send her up here. Please, thanks."

I end the call, standing up to fix myself before sitting down. I smile at the thought of Clementine being here. She'll make my stressful day then good day and now shitty day better. I continue to work knowing I won't be able to finish it off when she gets up here.

I hear three faint knocks before telling her to come in. Clementine walks in the silent room, her backpack strapped on her shoulder, her exposed honey tan legs glowing from the sun rays. "Lock the door sweetie." She smiles at me before locking the door and taking a seat in the seat in front of my table. She places her bag down before grabbing a small brown book and her pencil case. "Come here Kitten." I pat my lap.

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Hey its me, eleanor! I'm going to make my chapters longer. It's honestly not long enough because its just like one scroll and BAM you're done. I've also changed it to Styles Corporation, not Styles and Malik. - Sorry, though it doesn't make any difference.

Goal: 5 votes and 5 comments?

- e

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