Chapter Six - Dreams
Harry's P.O.V.
I shoot up in my bed, causing an avalanche of stuffed animals to fall down on me. Then I hear the sound that must've woken me up. Mommy and Daddy were shouting at each other. As usual.
I carefully hang my legs over the edge of my tall bed, slowly lowering myself to the wood floor below me. I tiptoe to my door, peeking out into the hall.
My Spider-Man night light flickers dimly behind me as I slowly walk down the hall towards the stairs. Their voices grow louder, the closer I get. I shuffle down the hall at the bottom of the stairs, peeking into the kitchen. I can hardly see above the tall counter. But I can see Mommy and Daddy yelling at each other.
"You never loved Harry! He is your son and you won't even smile at him!" Mommy shrieks.
I step back into the hall, leaning against the wall as I listen. Daddy roars back angrily "Anne, you know I NEVER wanted a child! Much less HAROLD! That child is a sorry excuse for a man!"
I frown deeply, looking down at myself. Mommy groans loudly, yelling "HE IS FIVE! FIVE! HE IS A CHILD! The only sorry excuse for a man in this house is YOU!"
My brows furrow as I peek back into the kitchen. Mommy starts to continue what she was saying when she begins to cough. Badly.
Daddy stands there for a moment, unsure. Mommy's pale, thin hand grips the counter as she bends over, coughing. "Anne?" Daddy asks softly, not as angry. She doesn't answer, holding her chest.
This happens a lot.
Mommy has been sick for a long time. For as long as I can remember, she's been pale. She could never lift anything too heavy. She hadn't been shouting until recently.
Mommy told me that when I was still in her tummy, she got very sick. But to get the treatment, the doctors would have to hurt me. I've never seen her healthy. But this time, something is wrong.
Different.
She doesn't stop coughing.
"Anne?" Daddy asks worriedly, bending down next to her. "Anne, are you alright?!" My ears slowly begin to ring. I can't hear anything but a muted hum of voices.
It's like someone turned down the volume on my cartoons. My eyes widen as Mommy falls to the ground. Daddy is yelling into a phone as Mommy lies there. I keep watching, shocked, and too scared to move.
After an eternity, two men run in our door, rushing into the kitchen with Mommy and Daddy. They sit by them and I see Daddy crying. Slowly I shuffle out into view, watching the men around my beloved mother.
"M-Mommy?" I whisper, my vision blurring with tears. Daddy looks up at me, eyes cruelly dark. My hearing comes back as I see the two men shake their heads, leaning back.
"Your fault.." Daddy chokes, glaring at me. "This is your fault, Harold.."
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Julia's P.O.V.
My eyes open and I look around. I must've fallen asleep. I pause, remembering. My eyes flash to my left to see Harry lying there on his side, brows furrowed deeply and a frown on his face.
I turn onto my side, facing him. Slowly he begins to shake. I feel my brows knit together in worry. His mouth goes agape slightly and I hear him barely whisper something so quiet, I almost think I imagined it
"M-Mommy?"
The whisper is filled with a fear. I slowly reach forwards, lightly touching his arm thats under him in a makeshift pillow. His lip begins to tremble and I frown. "Harry.." I mumble quietly. "Harry, wake up.."
I gently shake his arm and his eyes shoot open. I freeze in my place. His eyes are wide, a bright, alert green. But they're filled with raw pain and guilt. He swallows hard, quickly turning and sitting straight up.
I sit up too, looking at him in concern. "Harry?" I ask quietly. "Harry, what's wrong?" I whisper in concern. He shakes his head a little. "Can I go home now?" He whispers, almost silently. I shake my head slightly.
"Sorry, Harry. You're still hurt. I need to take care of you." His head turns to me and he snaps hurriedly "Why does it matter to you?!"
I fall silent, looking down. After a moment I see from the corner of my vision, he turns to face me. "You don't care about me... Nobody does.." He mutters softly.
I barely shake my head. "You're wrong.." I murmur gently. "I do care, Harry.. I don't like it when you're hurt or upset.." He looks down and I sigh.
"Harry, honestly tell me. Where does it hurt.." He pauses, pointing at his lip, nose, and right side. I get up, walking to the bathroom. The drawers slide open and I shuffle through them, pulling out bandaids, Neosporin, and a bruise ointment.
I walk back into the bedroom, sitting cross legged in front of him. I squeeze some of the Neosporin onto the tip of my finger and look up at him. "This may sting a little.." I murmur apologetically. He barely nods and I carefully, rub my fingertip against his split lip.
He inhales sharply and I quickly pull my hand back. "Sorry!" I blurt, eyes wide. He barely shakes his head. "It's fine, Diana.." He murmurs reassuringly, lightly placing his hand on my knee. I barely smile, slowly going back into rubbing the cream into his lip. He winces slightly and I keep my eyes on my finger.
"Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry.." I mumble under my breath, trying to do it quickly. I quickly pull away with a satisfied smile. "There!" He smiles slightly, barely nodding. I pause and my smile slips.
"Your side.. Would you.." I bite my lip awkwardly, looking pointedly at his shirt. He barely nods, carefully slipping off the tight T-shirt. I can't help but gasp.
His torso is perfectly built, easily something a girl could swoon over. His waist is slim and lean, with a firm, well defined six-pack, and pecs in a soft square shape. But it wasn't his build or tattooed skin that elicited the shocked gasp. It was what covered it.
Scars.
So many scars of different types.
There were slightly raised ridges, a lighter color than the rest of him. And there were even one or two more recent ones. Pink, angry, puckered lines. Rough, fresh bruises covered his side where he said it hurt, and when I looked closely, I could see the yellowing of old bruises fading on his chest.
I look up to him to see him watching me mournfully. He isn't surprised, or confused by my reaction.
He expected it.
"Harry.." I whisper, mortified. "What happened to you?" I choke out, looking back down at his battered torso. He sighs deeply, waiting for a moment before mumbling "None of your business.."
He pauses, seeming to be bothered by the curtness of his statement. "Sorry.." He quickly tacks on. I swallow hard, hands shaking a little as I place them gently on his chest, lightly running my fingers over the uneven skin.
"Who did this to you.." I whisper to myself. Harry seems to be sitting there silently, allowing me time to take in what I've just witnessed.
Slowly I regather my wits, picking up the bruise ointment and rubbing it gently into the new bruises. He sits there patiently and I slowly look up at him. He's staring over my head, lost in thoughts.
I look back down to his poor, beaten body, wincing. I bite my lip and slowly crawl around him to kneel behind him. A strangled squeak escapes me. His back is so much worse.
Scars crisscross over each other, as if competing to see who can dominate the unscathed skin faster. There are many more fresh scars, even some long, painfully new ones. Theres one near the lower corner of his back that has a line about the length of my thumb, scabbed over and the area around it raw, throbbing a bright pink.
I reach around him, picking up the Neosporin and gently rubbing it into the injury I'd just found. Harry grunts softly, but doesn't protest. I slowly begin to massage the bruise ointment into his whole back, rubbing it in with the heel of my hand.
Harry sighs deeply, murmuring in an almost sleepy way. "Diana, that feels amazing.. Thank you so much.." I smile a little, continuing to rub my hands gently into his sore back. "Do you not have anybody to do this for you at home, Harry?" I murmur, frowning. He sighs and shake his head. After a moment I ask, my heart sinking deeper in horrified concern "Don't you have the medicines to at least try and help yourself?"
A long pause and he slowly shakes his head. I swallow hard and look down, biting my lip. We're both silent for a few moments and I offer quietly "Harry, please don't hesitate to ask me for help if you need it.."
He waits for a moment and I can hear a smile in his voice "Thank you, Diana.." I smile slightly, having already rubbed in all the ointment. But if he's never had a massage, this has got to feel unbelievably wonderful. So I keep going.
The longer I stare at his scarred back, the deeper my heart sinks. "Harry, this is horrible.." I mumble, aghast. "I need to know what happened to you, and who did it. Please. I can help you." He shakes his head, looking forwards. "No you can't.." He mumbles. I hurriedly nod my head. "Yes I can, Harry! I can help!"
He shakes his head again and looks back at me. His eyes flash as he protests loudly "No, you can't!"
I fall silent, staring at him. He swallows hard and sighs shakily, turning to face away from me again. His head bows in defeat and he whispers, voice agonized. "You can't help me, Diana..
Nobody can..."