{Harry's Point of View}
I opened the door to our shared suite cautiously. The space was unnervingly silent. My breathing stopped and I strained to hear any noise—any indication that Kate was here and that she was alright. I felt strangely anxious to see her. Eli had explained what he knew of the attack, but he was unsure of what happened to Kate before he got to her. That left several minutes unaccounted for where Kate was left alone with a violent stranger. Nerves racked my body.
I crept through the seating area of the suite and paused outside the bedroom. The door was left ajar with just enough room for me to peer through and see Kate. She was lying on her side facing the wardrobe positioned against the wall. A bedside lamp was pouring a small amount of muted light over her shaking frame. I knocked on the door and she didn't even look up.
"Hi," I breathed. She gave no response. She just flinched at my words. "How are you feeling?"
"Better," she whispered.
Somewhere deep inside of myself, I felt a small sense of relief. If I could get her talking, maybe I could get an indication of how to help her. I padded across the bedroom toward the bed. She was lying on the right, which was normally my side of the bed.
"Are you hungry?"
"No," her voice quivered. Her bottom lip trembled and her eyes grew glassy.
"Hey," I sat beside her on the edge of the bed. "Shhh, no, don't do that. Don't cry. I'm here."
She closed her eyes just as a tear escaped. My heart wrenched in my chest. Most times I was confident seeing her in pain was worse than the pain she actually felt, but I didn't know what she was feeling. I didn't know what she had gone through. I didn't know what he had done to her. I felt sick at the thought.
"Could I get you tea?"
"No," she whispered. Her eyes were shut tightly with her eyebrows drawn together in a pained expression. If only she would let me kiss away the pain...
"There's a private courtyard out back. We could go sit outside for a bit. You could get some fresh air."
"No," she cringed.
"Okay. We'll stay in."
She sniffed and wiped her tears with the back of her hand lazily. She looked worn out from the day. Whatever terror she had endured earlier wasn't leaving her alone.
After several long minutes of silence, I got up and walked around to the other side of the bed. It felt foreign having Kate on my left instead of on my right. I turned the bedside table off and sighed into the silence. I wasn't tired at all. I had spent the day hoping Kate and I could have alone time together to talk and watch a film. I had envisioned doing something normal, but that hope disappeared the moment she walked in with that handprint on her dress.
With my phone switched to silent, it didn't even vibrate to notify me of a new text message.
Liam: We're on our way up to your suite. We want to see Kate (not you).
I typed a quick response.
Me: Don't come up. Something's happened. Kate is really upset.
Liam: Everything okay?
Me: Honestly don't know. She needs space tonight. You can see her in the morning before she leaves.
Liam: Hope everything turns out fine.
I put my phone on the bedside table. I quieted myself as much as possible to be able to hear Kate's breathing. It was slow and steady. She still faced away from me. I watched her shoulder rise and fall in time with gentle breaths. She was definitely asleep.
As if on cue, my phone screen noiselessly illuminated. It was a new text message and I already knew who it was from without having to check.
Louis: Come outside. Let's talk. I'm by myself.
I cast one last lengthy stare at Kate before slowly swinging my legs off the side of the bed until I landed on the floor. I tiptoed out of the bedroom and to the main door of the suite. I let out a shaky breath and turned the handle.
The hallway was empty save it for one brown haired boy in a shirt with its sleeves cut off jaggedly and jeans cuffed a few centimeters above his ankle. I stared down at the tops of his dirty white Vans, unable to look him in the eye.
"Harold," Louis' voice robbed the corridor of its silence.
"Yeah?" I looked up to two anxious eyes sinking into me.
"What's the matter?"
"Not sure," I admitted. "She isn't talking."
"What?"
I sighed. I didn't want to tell Louis everything. The situation felt oddly private, especially since I hadn't even talked it out with Kate yet. "This guy tried to rob Kate on the street. Eli had to fight the guy off her and it really shook her up." I left out details of the guy giving Eli threats he would hurt Kate.
"You're serious?" He raised his eyebrows.
I nodded slowly. "Yeah."
"The guy didn't know she was, you know, my girlfriend. He was just some random street criminal."
"Was he aiming to take her purse?"
"No," I swallowed hard. I suddenly felt slightly responsible for what happened to her. "He was trying to take the charm bracelet I gave her."
"What good is her security?" Louis scoffed.
"It's not like that," I said defensively. "It wasn't Eli's fault. He was doing his job. It was an accident. It just happened."
"So she isn't talking?"
"Hardly a word."
"She needs you, you know. It's when they aren't talking that they need you the most."
Louis was right. I knew she hated being alone and even if she was upset, she always preferred to have me there. "I should get back to her."
"Right," he nodded. "I just wanted to make sure she was okay. And make sure you were okay."
"Working on it," I half-smiled.
Kate was awake when I got back to the bedroom. Her eyes darted around the room and settled on me as I entered. Her brow was creased in concern and her mouth had formed a frown.
"You left me." Her voice was laced with hurt and confusion.
"No, baby," I rushed to the bed and climbed onto the middle over the duvet. "No, I was just talking to Louis."
"Oh," she looked away.
A few minutes passed without words. We had never experienced this complicated tension before. I bit my tongue to keep from begging her to tell me what happened. I felt as though I was moments from erupting with all the questions swirling around my head.
I got under the duvet, but kept to the center of the bed. If she needed, I was right there for her. The whole situation felt similar to when she was first recovering from her concussion. I was sharing a bed with her, but not touching her. I was left to miss the physical contact I craved as she lay with her back to me.
The darkness shrank and expanded around me, taunting me to confront her. I only had one chance to break through to her and I had an idea of how to do it. Like I had done countless times on countless occasions, I reached under the duvet and followed an invisible trail I knew so well to the hem of her shirt. I pushed it up and let my fingers touch her velvety skin of her lower back.
"Don't!" she arched her back just out of my reach. Her body grew rigid. "Sorry, I just..."
"No," I shook my head. "It's okay."
I scooted to my side of the bed leaving the middle section as a buffer. She could have all the space she needed. I peered at her back through the dark in utter disbelief. What had that guy done to take the most precious thing in my life from me? What had he done to her?
"Did he touch you?" I asked venomously.
"What?" her voice was quiet, inquisitive.
I sat straight up and flicked the bedside lamp on. "Did he touch you?" I shouted. I had lost all control.
She rolled over and squinted up at me. "Yes he touched me," she whispered. Tears sprang up in the corners of her eyes. "But he didn't touch me."
The distinction was clear by the tone of her voice. I was angry he had even laid a hand on her, but to know that he didn't violate her even further was more of a relief than I had ever known. I hadn't even realized how much of a fear that was for me. To have my girlfriend touched by another man was a terrifying, sickening thought.
"Good," I snarled.
"Can we just go to sleep?"
I looked down at her and my heart softened. She looked scared and vulnerable. Big, salty tears rolled down her cheeks. I wanted to cuddle her and spend the night whispering comforting words in her ear, but I knew I couldn't. For now, my angel was untouchable.
Every time I nearly met sleep, Kate would stir and get my immediate attention. Her sleep was fitful; she tossed and turned and every few minutes she would utter a quiet "no." It was painful to see her tortured in sleep.
My eyelids felt heavy and I allowed myself to close them. It was a moment of rare peace gently coaxing me closer and closer to sleep. My body felt heavy, then numb. My breathing naturally slowed. My thoughts couldn't be controlled any longer and I was at the mercy of my unconscious imagination.
Kate tore the duvet from her body. She sat upright and turned on her bedside lamp. I rubbed my eyes and saw her clutching her chest. Her breathing was rapid and heavy. She looked on the brink of an anxiety attack.
"Kate," I reached out for her.
"His smell!" she rasped. "I can't get his smell off me. My clothes...the bed...my hair! They smell like him, Harry!" She began crying in labored sobs. Kate pushed herself off the bed and rushed to the bathroom. "I have to get it off me. I have to."
I was speechless. A moment ago I had been enveloped in a calming sleep, but now I was tasked with trying to comfort my once again hysterical girlfriend. I stood up from the bed and went to the bathroom. The door was left open and Kate allowed me to walk in after her. She stood in front of the mirror shaking with her arms wrapped around herself.
Let me wrap my arms around you, I thought.
"Cigarettes," she whispered.
"What?"
"He smelled like cigarettes. I have to get it off me."
"Get in the shower again," I suggested. "I'll send your clothes to be washed."
"Okay," she managed between sobs.
"Alright, baby," I nodded to her. "I'll close the door. You get in the shower. Let me know when you're in and I'll come and collect your clothes. I'll get you something clean to wear."
She nodded and walked over to the shower. I went out of the bathroom and closed the door. I heard the shower start up and the steady stream of water. I heard the shower door open and close. "Okay," she called to me.
I reentered the bathroom hesitantly. The shower door was made of frosted glass so I could only see a blurred silhouette of her body, no details. Still, I knew that she was putting a lot of trust in my hands. Her clothes were abandoned on the floor in a heap. I gathered them in my arms.
"Alright I'm going to bring you new clothes and take these to have them washed. Is that okay? Are you okay with me leaving?" I asked over the rush of the shower.
"Please don't be long."
I sensed the urgency in her voice. "I'll hurry."
Back in the bedroom, I started by searching Kate's suitcase for new clothes. I found a new pair of shorts, but didn't bother searching for a shirt of hers. I went to my own suitcase. I had a KISS t-shirt that was freshly washed. I pressed my face into the soft fabric. It didn't smell like anything to me, which meant it would smell like me to her.
I left the new clothes on the bathroom counter and let Kate know I was leaving to get her clothes washed. I put my phone in the pocket of my sweats and set off for the lobby of the hotel.
Just after three in the morning, I felt lucky to find a front desk attendant on staff. It was a middle-aged woman with a friendly smile, even in the early hours of the morning.
"Hello, Mr. Styles." I liked the sound of my name spoken in a Swedish accent.
"Hello. I need some items of clothing washed and sent back up to my suite by the morning. Is that possible?"
"Absolutely," she said confidently.
"My girlfriend," I muttered, feeling like an explanation was in order. "My girlfriend's clothes smell like cigarettes from somewhere she went tonight. The smell bothers her."
"The smell of cigarettes bothers me as well, Mr. Styles. I will take care of these clothes personally. I'll have the clothes returned no later than six in the morning."
"Thank you." I handed the clothes over and a large tip.
____________
Kate was walking out of the bathroom as I returned from the lobby. My t-shirt hung low on her; the hem brushed the tops of her thighs. I could barely see the edge of her black spandex shorts peeking out. Her hair was wet, but had been towel dried. Her face was clear of all makeup stains and her eyes looked brighter than before.
"Better?" I inquired.
"Much." The ends of her mouth ticked up in an almost-smile. "Thanks for the shirt. It smells like you."
"Your clothes will be back in the morning."
"Thank you," she said shyly. "Sorry to have woken you up and freaked out. I could still smell that smell...I could still smell him."
"I don't need an explanation. Whatever you need, you know I'll give it to you."
She really smiled this time. It was a closed-mouth, modest smile, but it was a smile nonetheless. She walked to the bed and climbed in. "I know you will. Thank you for that. But you deserve an explanation. I've calmed down. I think I can talk about it."
I got in bed beside Kate and she positioned herself in the middle of the bed close to me. She didn't put her head on my chest or wrap her body around me, but I was glad for the closeness. In the new darkness, I waited for her to share the story. I wasn't sure how much detail I was prepared for her to go into.
In her own time, she explained the entire ordeal. She took pauses, shaky breaths, even grabbed my hand once for support, but eventually I learned the entirety of the horrific experience.
"Baby," I mumbled against her damp hair and left a soft kiss. "I'm so sorry."
"I'm okay."
"I'm so glad you're okay, but you should have given him the bracelet."
"No!" she snapped. "I would never have done that. He would have had to pry it from my dead hand."
"Don't talk like that," I admonished seriously. I shuddered at the thought and quickly dismissed it. "It's just a bracelet."
"It means a lot to me," she protested. "It connects me to the past I can't remember."
"I didn't realize you felt that way," I whispered.
"I didn't know what he was going to do." I could hear the weakness in her voice indicating she was on the verge of more tears. "He lifted my dress and he was forcing me against the wall."
"Shh," I reached for her.
"No touching," she whispered. "I can't right now. It just reminds me of—"
"Okay," I interrupted her. I was not going to allow her to verbalize whatever vile thought was plaguing her mind. I was not going to allow her to say that me touching her felt anything like that guy touching her. I couldn't bear to hear those words. I silently prayed that feeling would pass from her.
"I'm sorry," she cried harder.
"No, Kate. Don't be sorry. What happened was really scary. It's okay to feel this way. I'm sorry I couldn't be there with you. I should have. I'm so sorry."
"I shouldn't have told you," she said coldly.
"What?" Even I could hear the hurt in my voice.
"You blame yourself just like I knew you would. You can't help it if some freak jumps me on the street, Harry. And you can't always be there for me." She rolled over onto her side and put her back to me. Once again, I was locked out.
"Try to get some sleep," I resigned. "We can talk in the morning."
She didn't respond. The silence stretched taut between us. I swallowed back a scream. I was angry. I was angry that a stranger had touched my girlfriend. I was angry he scared her. I was angry I wasn't there. I was angry I was losing sleep I needed for my performance. I was angry that so much was slipping out of my control.
Through the impossible darkness, I searched for sight of her. "I love you," I whispered.
"I know," Kate replied.
My mouth fell open. I half expected a teasing giggle from her. I waited for her to roll over and kiss me and tell me she loved me. Instead, she was silent. Her breathing was steady. I felt rejected; telling her I loved her was still very new for me, and it made me feel vulnerable. Maybe it was because we just started saying it, but I felt like I had just jumped and she didn't catch me.
"I love you, too." It was a harsh rasp traveling from her mouth and to my ears. My body relaxed. She wasn't lost. She was still with me.
I was urgently, irreverently, passionately, truly in love with her.