Delilah's POV
I can't be fixed. Mike ruined me.
The thing about ruining someone though is that it'll eventually catch up on you. One day, one way or another, you'll pay for it.
I personally think revenge it's pointless. Sometimes even justice.
Say a killer murders a girl. The family freaks out and does everything possible to find the killer, to make his life living hell, to send him to jail. For 'justice'.
But is that going to bring her back? Nope. Is that going to make you feel better about everything? Nope. Is that going to fix everything? Hell no.
I'll tell you what that will do. That will not let the poor girl rest in peace. That will make you feel worse.
Though I do understand that it's so he doesn't kill anyone else, so you feel protected. So, if has it's pros and cons.
I'm not going to say the killer deserves a good life, but why make his life worse? I mean, if he did what he did is for a reason. He obviously had a horrible life that lead him to do that horrible thing.
Louis spins to the side and starts pushing everyone but Harry outside.
"What are you doing?" Finn frowns at Louis as he's being pushed.
Louis whispers something I honestly didn't catch and they all nod and walk out.
You'd think they out a little more of a fight, but no. One simple thing convinces them.
Maybe they gave up on me?
It's likely they are done dealing with my bullshit, even though this is the first time they've ever had to.
Harry doesn't move, he just looks at me with pained eyes. His face is plain, but his eyes could write a book.
Louis closes the door and looks back at me. He walks forward and grabs my hand, then pulls me forward so I'm out of the glass.
Harry watches me intently, his eyes burning into my soul.
"What is he even doing here?" I scoff pointing at Harry. The thing about me being drunk- the alcohol effect makes me even more of a bipolar bitch. I'll go from being a happy- go lucky drunk to an angry drunk to and emotionally distressed drunk.
"I can't keep this from him, especially since he-" Louis is rudely cut of by Harry.
"Especially since I care about you"
"I don't want you to care" I sneer.
Can't they get a fucking hint? How stupid do you have to be? I've shut them out and made it clear that I don't want them to care. Why do they have to keep on insisting. It annoys the living hell out of me.
I don't deserve it, I simply don't. So many other people do, but not me.
"That's not for you to decide though" he takes a step forward "what happened?"
"You want to know what happened?" I raise my eyebrows, the tears already coming out.
He nods his head, coming to stand in front of me.
Oh Harry, you'll regret ever asking me.
"I need to know what's got you so broken" His husky voice tells me.
I feel anger, sadness, hatred, fright and a million more thing hit me like a wave- a strong tsunami- and I loose it.
I cross some line into hysteria and let it all out, not holding back anything at all.
"HE RAPED ME, HE FUCKING RAPED ME" I scream punching his chest. I can't believe he actually raped me, he destroyed me. He is the reason why I hate myself.
That's a crime, that's sick. That's wrecking a human being.
"HIM AND HIS FUCKING FRIEDS DESTROYED ME" I keep punching his chest, taking my anger out on him.
"HIM AND HIS FRIENDS SCREWD ME OVER" I use my fists like never before, using all of my strength.
"THEY TIED ME UP" I punch, how he's still standing is beyond me. I'm strong and I box.
"THEY HIT ME AND SLAPPED ME" I punch and scream, yet he's still standing there like a wall. He just looks at me and let's me hit him.
"I'M A WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT AND I WANT TO DIE" that did it.
Harry grabs my wrists forcing me to stop.
"Don't you dare say that" he sneers.
I sink to my knees, sobbing like never before. Still holding on to my wrists he looks at Louis, who is watching us with an emotionless expression.
He nods once and purses his lips.
Harry drops to his knees in front of me and wraps me in his arms. Surprisingly I don't feel scared, I feel safe actually. It takes me by surprise, because when Finn hugged me all those memories rushed in my head.
I grab his shirt and curl it in my hand, holding onto him as if he were my lifeline. My last hope- which at this point it feel like he is.
He wraps his arms tighter around me, bringing my body closer to his. He rests his chin on top of my head and rocks us back and forth.
"Please just let me die, please" I whimper.
"Shut up" he mutters, trying to pull me closer.
"Let's get you cleaned up" He sighs and stands up pulling me up with him. I keep on holding on to him and he never let's go of me.
"Shhh" He whispers picking me up bridal style. Still holding onto his shirt I curl up in his arms. I keep on crying, I don't care about the whole brave act and not crying in front of others anymore. Crying is the only way I can express what I'm feeling inside.
No words can describe how torn apart I feel like.
"Lou, can you drive?" Harry asks, his feet taking long strides toward his best mate.
Lou nods and grabs my bag,
He stops and pulls out the vodka bottles and then closes the bag. I turn my head to the side for a minute and see Jackson passed out on the floor.
Meh, he'll survive.
Louis starts walking and when we step outside I cover my eyes with Harry's chest. The booming headache only intensifies, helping the sun to blind me.
I feel Harry get in the SUV and I look up to see we are in the passengers seat. Louis gets in the car and starts it up, looking back so he can backpedal.
Everyone stays silent, the only noise coming from my body which keeps producing broken sobs.
"How am I going to tell Dylan?" I whimper, pulling myself up a little and resting my head on the crook of Harry's neck.
"Shh, you'll figure something out" He whispers running his large hands through my hair. I like how he didn't tell me to just tell him, or tried to come up with a solution.
"He took my virginity, my pride, my confidence, my everything" I cry even harder.
I was a strong confident girl. I had no problem with my body or appearance, I actually liked it. I would be lying if I said it was my dream body, but I liked it. I was comfortable in my own skin- something rare nowadays. But now? Now I'm repulsed by it. All that comes to mind when I think of me is trash. I was used by Mike and then thrown away.
I am literally trash. I want to die, I can't stand being in my body.
Louis reaches out and grabs my hand, he gives it a squeeze and rubs his thumb up and down. He keeps it there as he drives through the different streets, somewhat comforting me.
Harry stays silent, he just keeps his arms around my body. Not loosely either, he keeps them tightly around me.
He's my bubble, keeping any danger out of my reach.
I didn't even know it was possible for some to cry this much, but here I am. Still crying.
Dylan, I just need Dylan right now. Harry's great, but Dylan is my best friend and brother and he is simply my other half. People still think we are together, or that we'll end up together, but he is actually head over heels for his girlfriend. They make the cutest couple ever. Her name is Tamara and she is so damn gorgeous. She has straight blonde hair that reaches her mid back, honey-hazel stunning eyes, a beautiful body and great complexion.
"Dylan, I want Dylan" I sob.
"We'll call him, don't worry love" I nod and keep on crying.
What surprises me though is that I actually don't need Dylan that desperately. Harry is playing his role, and it scares me to admit he's actually doing a better job than Dylan.
It's not specifically their actions, it's just the way they make me feel. I find more comfort in Harry than I could ever find in Dylan, and that'a strange considering I always thought I wouldn't find someone who made me feel better than Dylan.
But Harry is the living proof that I was wrong.
After a few more minutes of driving I feel Louis stop the car. I look up to see we are at their complex's main entrance.
"Let's go to my flat, Lou why don't you go with the others to you know what?" Harry looks at Lou. They have a conversation with their eyes and then Lou nods. He reaches to me and kisses my forehead, then Harry gets out of the car with me in his arms. As we walk in I see Lou drive away.
I stop crying and silently stay in Harry's comforting arms. He makes me feel so safe, this is ridiculous.
Harry steps in the lift and presses the button that will take him to his flat. I hiccup and sort of sob, you know the after sob? Yeah. Annoying as hell.
Harry walks out of the lift once it opens and strides down the hallway. He shakes his head at the questioning look the bodyguard planted outside his door gives him and asks him to open the door for him.
"Thanks" he mumbles as he closes the door. Harry's flat is exactly the same as Niall, just a different color scheme.
Harry sets me down in a white plus couch and sits at the edge. I curl up and lay there, staring at the wall. Harry starts playing with my hair, trying to calm me down. Shivers shot down my spine and my stomach erupts with butterflies. Harry is making me feel things I had never felt.
"You are so beautiful Delilah" He whispers while he caresses my cheek with his gentle touch.
I look at him for a second before looking back at the wall.
This is what I have become. A charity case. This only enforces my theory of me being trash.
You feel sorry for the useless, for te damaged, for the worthless, for the broken. All your affection is pity.
That's how Harry feels about me. He's sorry I was raped and broken.
It's like with my reference of the broken vodka bottle. Just a tad better.
When something pretty breaks you feel sorry. You think about how it used to look so good and perfect, but it's now a mess. And when you try to fix it there is still cracks showing. Even if I am fixed, I'll still be scarred. The cracks make that something look ugly, and it's then unwanted. The scars are going to make me look ugly, and soon everyone will realize I am not meant to be here anymore. Just like after when the pretty thing is seen repaired and with cracks, you'll throw it away saying 'It's broken, we don't need it anymore'
It's the same damn thing with humans. You are broken? The world doesn't need you anymore.
The world doesn't need me anymore.
"Can I take a shower?" I croak looking at Harry from the corner of my eye.
Harry looks at me for a minute, probably trying to decide wether I'm in any state to be left alone or not, which I'm definitely not, but he knows not to push my buttons. He finally nods and helps me up.
"The shower is down the hall and to your right" he points me in the right direction. No pun intended.
I walk down the hall and open the door in the right. I step in and lock the wooden door behind me. I walk to the large shower and turn it on, not bothering to look what temperature I turned it to.
I walk to to counter and start looking for the drawers for something that will make a favor to the world.
I open up all of them, an in the last one I finally find what I am looking for.
I sigh and get out the razor and the bottle of pills. I put them on the floor in front of me and stare at them.
Which one.
It's easier if I go with the pills, less painful.
But I deserve the worst and nothing but the worst.
I take the razor and break it, pulling out the blade and looking at it. I hold it in front if my eyes and admire it.
I look down at my wrist and clench my fist, showing the main vein.
Most people when self harming cut thugs or upper on the forearm, because they aren't looking for death, they are looking to feel something.
Me? I'm looking for death because I am feeling too much.
One slash at my main vein will do enough to kill me from blood loss.
I hover over it, brushing my skin. What I'm doing is disgusting and sick, I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't be taking my life. But I have to.
"Delilah?" I hear Harry call from outside the door.
When I don't answer he tries again, just louder. He then starts banging on the door. I block out all of the sound and concentrate on the blade.
"This is it" I whisper, pressing it against my skin.
The delicate, yet repulsive, skin starts breaking and little blood droplets start coming out.
I whimper from the pain and stop putting pressure on it.
Don't you dare chicken out, I don't deserve to be here.
I take a deep breath and bite the inside of my cheek before starting again.
I hear the lock open, but too into the blade I ignore it.
Next thing I know I'm being pushed backwards and the blade is flying out of my hands.
"NOOOOO" I cry trying to get Harry's body off me.
I start crying and screaming, kicking him trying to get away from him.
"LET ME DIE" I fight him, wiggling everywhere.
"GET OFF ME" I punch him with my good arm. My wrist feels like it's on fire, the pain is excruciating.
"HARRY LET ME DIE PLEASE" I kick him.
I know what he's doing, he's trying to wear me out. The worst part is that it's working.
"NO I WANT THIS, IT'S MY CHOICE PLEASE" I move my head and feet everywhere. Harry keeps his arms on my shoulders and he stays hovering over my waist.
I arch my back trying to get away from him but can't. I start feeling tiered so I slowly stop fighting.
I want to get out of this world. I want the pain to end, I want to not be scared.
I don't want to stay here and become and alcoholic or drug addict because I can't handle myself.
I simply don't want to be in my sling because it's just a dirty reminder of Mike.
I finally give up and turn my head to the side, watching intently as my wrist bleeds. The cut isn't deep enough to kill me, but it's bleeding all right.
Harry follows my gaze and clenches his jaw. He stands up and grabs me from my armpits, bringing me up with him. I start falling but he catches me, picking me up bridal style. He grabs the first aid kit, turns off the shower, and grabs a towel from a shelf before walking out with me in his arms.
He walks in what I presume is his bedroom given it's smell. It smells like Harry's intoxicating scent.
He lays me down on the bed and gets to work on my wrist while I just softly cry.
I completely understand why committing suicide is a sin. There are so many people out there fighting so hard to stay alive, and here I am trying to die. It's not fair that they have to go through hell trying to live for one more day, while I am given the gift of a healthy life but choose to refuse it. The thing though, is that it's not fair for me either. How is it in any way fair to be scared all the time? To have to go through all this pain? To hate yourself? To want to die?
It isn't. That's why I chose the easy way out.