Turning Grace- A Harry Styles Fanfiction

Chapter 36

Harry's POV

"What the hell's that noise?!" I open my eyes and see red flashing lights coming from outside. I sit up and look out the basement window. What time is it? I look at the clock on the wall, 11:30. Can't be 11:30, feels like 6:00. I slept for shit. I get up and walk upstairs and into the front room. The front door is wide open and I can see the ambulance across the street. Something must've happened to that old lady.

"Hey Harry! Look, the cops are here! Mom says that little old lady who lives across the street died!" I'm yawning looking at Kiera.

She's so excited, telling me the whole story. "Harry, why are you walking around in just your underware?! That's so gross!" She says, as I walk into the kitchen smiling.

I'm starving. Looks like the girls made muffins. I grab one and go back to the front door.

"Put some clothes on jerk." Jess says, passing me going into the kitchen.

"I could say the same to you, most any day, Bitch." I say back.

"Uncle Harry! That old lady died! She DIED." Khloe runs over to me and puts her arm around my leg.

She's freaking. I shove the muffin in my mouth so I have my hands free, and pick her up. We walk over to the front door. I chew the shitty dry thing, disguised as a muffin, and try to swallow without choking. No luck. I cough several times. Shit, where's a drink? I finally grab Khloes juice box and gulp down the rest of her apple juice.

"Sorry frog, I was dying."

She's still looking at me waiting for me to say something to make her feel better.

"Listen Khloe, it might be true that she died, but remember, she was really old. That means she lived a long happy life. It just was her time to go be with the angels." I rub the top of her head, making her hair stand up.

"Do you think she's with the angels now?" Khloe's looking at me with wide eyes.

I smile at her, "Yep I sure do! Probably up there making muffins like you guys were with your mom!"

She smiles back, all worry gone from her tiny face.

Khloe kisses my tattoo. "Love you Uncle Harry."

"Love you too, Khloe."

I put her down and go back down to my room.

I'm so tired. I lay back down and stare at the ceiling. Last night. I should've killed Zac and his friends. They got off easy. If Kodi and his friend hadn't shown up, I would've killed them, or at least tried. Putting his hands on Graces' friend like that. Grace being held by that ass wipe! I ball my fists up remembering.

I roll over onto my side. Grace remembered. I can still see her face as it came back to her. Right when I got my nose busted and went down. Her face showed it. I hate that. I hate that she remembers being attacked. Fucking Zac, I might still kill him. My nose feels like I smashed my face into a brick wall.

It might be good she remembers. Now I don't have to stay away from her. I don't have to watch myself, afraid I'll say something that will trigger everything coming back. I should still stay away. She's too good for me. We're not the same little kids we were back then. She's changed and so have I. She just felt sorry for me last night. Sorry for me getting my ass kicked, sorry for what happened in the fifth grade.

I roll over on my stomach. She looked amazing last night. Before I saw what was going on, when I first got to the school to pick up Jess. She didn't see me, but I saw her. She was with her friends going in the bathrooms. Her dress was the same color as her eyes. It was so fucking short. Her hair was sort if curly and hung down to the middle of her back, her strapless back. I don't think I've ever seen anything so beautiful.

Jesus, I can't sleep, but I'm so fucking tired. I grab my phone and turn on some music. I roll over on my back and lay the phone on my chest. I rub my fingers over my tattoo. Mom was so pissed when I got it. I was only able to do it because one of my friends' brothers did it. I remember the day I picked it out, I was twelve years old. I got so much shit for picking a butterfly. No one knew why I really chose it. No one except Grama Lizzie. I got it because of Grace. She used to drag me to look at the butterflies in elementary school. There was all this milkweed behind the school. The caterpillars would make their cocoons there.

Grace was always fascinated with those stupid cocoons. She would say how wonderful it had to be. One day they're average caterpillars that hardly anyone notices. Then they change into these beautiful, delicate creatures that everybody loves. She always thought of herself like the caterpillars. I always saw her as the butterfly.

I close my eyes and feel myself drift off.