Trigger warning: assault
Primrose's POV:
Harry and I quickly met Mitch and Sarah outside the building. Mitch and I exchanged the same awkward look, before we began to walk. Harry slinked his arm through mine, and pulled me protectively closer to him.
"Let me hold that for you." He offered, reaching down to take my bag.
"Just don't hide it this time!" I tease.
Turning the corner, my eyes were met with a street flooded with lights of greens, blues and reds, as an array of bars, clubs and restaurants towered over us. A mix of different music filled the air, as a smell of cigarettes and food drifted up my nostrils.
"You'll love it here." Sarah turned to me. "We always go here after a day in the studio." She pointed to her, Mitch and Harry.
"Do you play cards?" Mitch asked.
"Well, I consider myself a fairly good snap player." I joke, earning a laugh from everyone. "Why?" I continued, yet my question was answered for me by the giant Royal Flush sign hanging from the building.
"This bar has cards at each table, so you can play while you drink." Harry explained, pushing the door open. The room was dimly lit, filled with people dancing in the middle. We weaved our way through the crowds to a booth in the back corner. I slid across the smooth leather seat, leaving enough space for Harry to sit next to me. Reaching over the table, I grabbed a menu.
"Oh." I said to myself as my eyes reached the end of the paper.
"Hmm?" Harry asked whilst his eyes were also scanning the menu.
"It's all alcohol." I place the menu down in front of me.
"Shit." Harry shouted to himself, placing his menu down. He turned to face me and leaned in slightly, placing his hand on his head so Sarah and Mitch couldn't see what he was about to say. "That's why I said we wouldn't come. Because I know you don't like drinking." He whispered to me, fiddling with his hair to hide our conversation.
"It's fine, honestly. I'll just have water." I smile, sitting back in my seat. Harry shoots me a confused look, before doing the same and returning to his normal seating position.
"Everything okay?" Sarah asks over the top of her menu.
"Yep. Harry was just asking if I was okay." I lie, using a more believable reason than last time. 'I'm not hungry' yeah, good one Primrose.
A tall, muscular man with shaggy blonde hair approached our table. "Hey, guys. What can I get you this evening." One by one, Harry, Mitch and Sarah ordered different cocktails. I recognised all the names - of course - but none of them appealed to me. "And what can I get you?" He asked me.
"I'll just have a water please." I smile politely.
"Would you like me to spice it up with a lemon slice and some ice?" He laughs.
"Not too much - I'm driving home tonight." I go along with the joke. He soon disappears, leaving us to our own discussions again.
"You never answered my question - if you were good at cards or not." Mitch said, his voice sounding louder and more confident with the smaller group of people.
"Well, I used to play with my Granny. When she passed away, I stopped playing. But, since opening the bar, I've been playing for fun with some of my regulars, or with Angel to pass the time." I explained.
I could see Harry watching me from the corner of his eye, with a small smirk on his face. "What?" I asked, turning to him.
"Nothing, you're just fascinating."
"How?" I ask, intrigued but equally confused by his point.
"It's fascinating - the way you open up so easily when in the right environment. You're so self aware, and you won't do or say something if you aren't comfortable. I admire that about you." His eyes were beaming at me, as his hands sat neatly under his chin. For that moment, I forgot where we were. I forgot Mitch and Sarah we're opposite us. I forgot we were in a bar. It was just me, and him. Together. Alone. Having this conversation. He has this ability to take over my mind with something so simple as his voice and words. They're so soothing and comforting.
"Well, you're fascinating too." I place my hand on his thigh.
"Not really." He laughs.
"Yes, you are Harry. You speak with such intelligence and maturity - like you aren't scared for one second anyone would judge you. You have such a strong, confident atmosphere around you, which shelters the delicate, loving, caring boy inside. We are all fascinating in our own ways. Sometimes, it takes a particular person, or group of people to see that. It's one of the things that makes everyone unique. We aren't all wired the same, meaning I see things in Sarah that Mitch doesn't see. And Mitch sees things in you, Harry, that I don't see. That's one of the beauties of forming relationships with people - you start to see them in a light you never thought you could."
"Wow." Sarah exhales, sitting back in her chair. "That was beautiful, Primrose. I've never heard anyone explain something so simple as fascination, so poetically before. What are you hiding? Are you some sort of author? Poet? Emotional speaker?" She fires questions at me.
"Sarah!" Mitch scolds lightly.
"Sorry." She says quietly.
"No, honestly it's fine. This is the most comfortable I've felt around everyone all day - so I'm enjoying talking to everyone. I didn't mean to go off like that, I have a tendency to ramble. And no, I'm not a poet, author, or emotional speaker. I own a bar and restaurant." I say simply.
"Who's Angel?" Mitch asks, sitting forward in his seat.
"He's my best friend. He works with me, well technically for me, but I don't want to ever put myself above him. In my eyes, we are equal. Angel persuaded me to buy the bar when it went for sale, so I did. And at 19, I became a business owner." I explain.
"19?!" Sarah blurts out. "Bet your family were happy about that - they could charge you loads for rent!" She laughs.
"Well, yes. Accept I moved far away from home at 18. It wasn't anything personal to my family, I just wanted to explore life. They were gutted to see me leave, and I was gutted to be leaving. But it was essential for me, as I didn't really know what I wanted to do with my life. I studied musical theatre for a lot of my life - became quite good - but then I got bored and quit. I remember telling my mum I quit, she said that... she said I was rambling again. I'm so sorry!" I stop talking, sinking back into my chair and covering my face with my hands.
"Don't be. You're very interesting. And funny - naturally." Mitch smiled.
We were interrupted by our waiter bringing us our drinks. He placed each one down onto the table, and after we all thanked him, he walked away.
"Please, continue." Sarah gestures.
"Oh, no. I can't talk about myself anymore. I'd love to hear about you though. How did you meet?" I ask, flicking my eyes between Mitch and Sarah.
"Well, Harry joined my band, and we needed a guitarist. The one we had scheduled to come in didn't turn up, and long story short, Mitch came to fill in. Everyone loved him, so he stayed." Sarah turned her head to smile at Mitch.
"We started dating a few weeks later. I asked her out for dinner, and now we are here." Mitch added. "Sarah and I don't usually talk about ourselves, so excuse us if this seems awkward."
"Oh, no don't be silly." I laugh. "Back to your original point, yes. I do play cards. I consider myself rather good." I say proudly.
"You're not better than Mitch." Harry chimes in.
"How do you know?" I ask, almost insulted by his assumption.
"Mitch is unbeaten. He wins every time we play."
I reach over Harry and grab the deck of cards from the side of the table. Shuffling them in between my hands, I keep my eyes trained on Mitch. "Blackjack, or poker?" I say cockily.
The next hour was filled with numerous card games - each more competitive than the last. Harry and Sarah were only really playing as extras; the real competition was on Mitch and I. We were drawing with 5 wins each. The hand we were playing now was the last of the night - decided by Harry and Sarah.
I peered over at Mitch from behind my cards, keeping them close to my chest. His face was blank, as he stared back at me. Sarah and Harry watched us silently, scared to move a muscle.
"On 3... we show." I say flatly, trying not to give anything away with my tone of voice. Mitch nods his head in response. "1... 2... 3!" We both place our hands down on the table.
"Shit!" Mitch slams his hand down on the table.
"Wooo, I won!" I cheer!
"Better luck next time." Sarah comforts.
"That was a tough hand to beat. Straight flush is a rare hand." Harry tells Mitch.
"Good game." I say cockily, reaching over the table to shake his hand. "No, seriously. Good game. I enjoyed this last hour." I smile.
"You're good." He laughs.
"Let's take a photo!" Sarah says, pulling her phone from her pocket and opening her camera. Harry shuffles closer to me and wraps his arm around my waist - lightly pulling my body towards him.
"Take this firey side home with you." He whispers into my ear lowly. The smell of vodka drifts straight to my nose, causing my breath to hitch.
"Harry!" I laugh at his obvious flirting. "You're a little drunk." I whisper back, kissing him on the forehead.
"No I'm not! That's the only drink I'm having. Got to stay under the limit so I can get you home safely, love." He says, sounding slightly shocked at my assumption.
"Smile!" Sarah shouts over our conversation.
*click*
"Oh my goodness, I love it!" She squeals. "Primrose, give me your number so I can send this to you."
After putting my number in her phone, I turn to Harry. "Did you bring your camera?"
"No, I left it in the car. I didn't realise we'd be coming out." He says, disappointed. Looking around the room, I noticed a lot of the people dancing had either sat back down, or left the building. There was still a significant amount of people dancing though. My ears chimed in to the familiar song playing on the speakers. ' Dancing in the moonlight.' * i.e. mine and Harrys Jamaica song.
Turning to him, I tapped him on the shoulder. He looked at me, awaiting my response, however I just pointed my finger to my ear. Harry took a few seconds to listen to the song, and when he realised what it was, his eyes widened as his whole face lit up. "We sing karaoke to this."
"Duh! Let's go dance." I usher him out of his seat. I grab Harrys hand and lead him into the crowd of drunk dancers. Throwing my arms around his neck, he slinks his hands onto my hips as we dance. Our bodies moved in synch as we sung to the music. "Dancing in the moonlight! Everybody's feeling warm and bright..." Harrys curls were draped over his eyes, and my hair was slowly falling out. Removing one of my arms from Harry's neck, I grabbed the clip holding my hair back and removed it - allowing all my curls to fall down. I flipped my head upside down and back up, before placing my hand back around Harrys neck.
"How are you so hot?" Harry shamelessly looked me up and down.
"Hot! That's a new word." I teased, going on my tiptoes to whisper in his ear. I let my lips linger near his neck for a few seconds, grazing them along his skin momentarily. Harrys hands tightened on my hips as I did so, as a small gasp entered his body.
"Dancing in the moonlight!" I continued, loosening my hips and letting my body flow with the music.
As the song came to a close, I stopped dancing and went to pin my hair back. While doing so, I was caught offguard by Harry pulling me towards him, smashing his lips into mine. The kiss was fast, intense, passionate. It was like he'd been wanting to do it forever but wasn't able to. He nipped at my lips as he deepened the kiss, trailing his hands from my lower back to bum. This time, I wasn't uncomfortable. I was completely absorbed by the moment. I wanted this.
Harry cupped my ass cheeks as his tongue desperately tried to sneak into my mouth again. I immediately opened my jaw, giving him full access of what he'd been desperate for. I moved my hands to Harrys hair, pulling on it tightly causing his mouth to unlatch from mine. Harry smirked deviously, before greedily attacking my mouth again. Sparks of electricity were exploding in my stomach as I fully lost all awareness of my surroundings. Were people watching? I don't care. Where are Sarah and Mitch? Mm, they're adults - they can fend for themselves.
Harry pulled away from the kiss, revealing his red, raw lips and heavy breathing. I can only assume I looked the same, as my mouth was burning from what just happened. "What was that for?" I laugh, releasing Harrys hair from my grip and returning my hands to his neck.
"You owed me a kiss." He says smugly.
"What?"
"You went to kiss me during that song in Jamaica, then pulled away." He reminds me.
"Ohhhhh. Yeah about that... you see, I- basically... yeah. That's what happened." I ramble. Harry exhales a small laugh, before removing his hands from my ass.
"You're so silly." I laugh, as he smiles to himself, clearly proud of finally getting that kiss. Harry sticks his tongue out playfully again - I can't lie, I love it when he does that.
"I'm going to get a sip of drink, come with me." Harry takes my hand in his.
"I'll be fine, honestly. You'll be back in a few seconds. And anyways - I deal with this on a daily." I shout through the crowds of people, as Harry disappears.
I patiently await his company again - swaying to whatever song was now playing. Abruptly, a strong hold grabbed my waist and pulled me towards them. He's back quick. I say to myself, looking up at Harry.
That's not Harry.
"Hey, baby. Saw you dancing with that man - couldn't wait to take you for a ride of my own." A tall, large, scruffy man barked at me. His breath was filled with the scent of cheap cigarettes and beer, and his face was covered in stubble. His grip on my waist was heavy and cold, and he pulled my body so close to his that I could feel his heart beating.
My breathing immediately picked up, as I began frantically looking around for Harry. In my head I was screaming, crying, desperately trying to make a sound. However, my voice went silent. Much like it was on the beach with Dan. Not a single word was leaving my mouth. I looked back at the man, as icy tears streamed down my face.
"Can't wait to see what's beneath this blazer." He began to drag me towards the door. I threw both hands over his arm and began hitting it with all my force, trying to escape his hold. Yet his arm didn't even flinch. If anything, I just angered him. "Stop. Don't be a stuck up little bitch. You want this. You know you want this. And if you don't - I don't care. I want this. Don't do or say a fucking thing. Come with me." He shouted, dragging me towards the door.
Tears blinded my vision as I began bumping into everything and everyone around me. I felt the cool air from outside hit my body like a train as the man continued to lead me down the path.
Another man gripped my arm, yanking me from his grip and pulling me into his chest. This was it. I'm about to die. Or get raped. Or be thrown into the back of a van and be sent into sex trafficking. My legs turned to jelly as I struggled to hold myself up in the man's grip. He wasn't moving me anywhere. Why wasn't he moving me anywhere? Tears relentlessly poured from my eyes, as I was still blinded by my own fear.
My eardrums were ringing so loudly I couldn't make out what was happening. I could've fainted for all I knew. This mans hold also felt unfamiliar. It wasn't as abrasive and rough as the previous man, yet it was strong and dominant. "Please..." I managed to squeak out. "Don't hurt me." I forced out in between breaths.
The man mumbled something back to me. I couldn't make out what it was. The ringing in my ears became unbearable as I collapsed to the ground - slipping through the man's grip - and I threw my hands to hold my head. I felt his cold hand on my shoulder as I continued to sob. Soon after, a different hand placed itself on my other shoulder. This one was cold and large against my small self.
As my head began to spin from the overwhelming amount of emotions I was feeling, every nerve in my body was stopped by a smell. It glided up my nostrils and through my body, calming me as it went. It was Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille. It was Harry.
Blinking profusely through the tears, I finally managed to see again. There, in front of me, crouched, was an unbelievably frightened looking Harry, next to a scared Mitch - both their hands on my shoulders. Sarah stood in-front of me, blocking whatever commotion was happening in the street.
"Primrose. Can you hear me now?" Mitch asks, his voice no longer muffled.
I take a deep gulp, "yes." I force out, my voice shaky from my body's continuous trembling.
"Are you okay?" Harry asks quietly, sitting his body next to my collapsed one.
"What just happened?" I ask, my mind still spinning.
"You don't want to kn-,"
"What. Just. Happened." I snap.
"That man just tried to take you away." Mitch says quietly.
Flashbacks of Dan in Jamaica and the man in my bar zoom through my mind as I piece together what happened. I immediately rise to my feet - suddenly having full control over myself. "I need to go home." I say to myself, as I begin speed walking down the path.
"What?" Harry says, running to catch up with me.
"I need to shower. That's all I need. A shower." I continue to mumble to myself, not breaking the pace of my walking.
"P, I think you should sit down for a few moments." Harry tries to reason.
"No, Harry. I need a shower!" I shout. "That's what worked last time. When that man touched me up in the bar, I had a shower, I fell asleep on the floor, then it was all okay. It was all okay because all the pain and fear went away. I need it to go away. I'm dirty. Harry, I'm dirty. Look at me. He's all over me. I need to shower." I mumble to myself, as we reach the car park where Harry's car was.
Harry practically ran to keep up with me, desperately trying to stop me from walking. "Prim, listen to me. You're okay." He says calmly.
"I know I'm okay! Look, I'm walking. I'm talking. I'm breathing. I'm just dirty. I need a shower. I need to get home, Harry. Take me back home." I beg. I grab the handle of the car and go to open the door, however it's locked. I repeatedly try to open it, pulling the handle again and again and again. "Open the door Harry."
"I can't drive you back to Woolacombe." He says quietly, keeping a distance between us so I don't freak out.
"No, Harry. To our home. To your house. It's safe there. I just need to shower. I'm so dirty!" I yell, rubbing my arms as if there's dirt on it. Harry pulls the key from his pocket, unlocks the door and watches me get in the car. He quickly raced round to the drivers seat, jumped in the car and buckled his seatbelt. The car hummed into life, and Harry reversed out of our spot. Pulling into the road, we began the long journey home.
There was no traffic as it was late at night, so Harry could quickly race down all the roads. I didn't say a thing - I couldn't. Blinking was too difficult. That momentary darkness was just an image. An image of that man's hand round my waist. I have no idea if Harry was trying to talk to me. All I could hear was his words stabbing my eardrums. Why me? Why does this always have to happen to me?
I'm always the one who has to endure this disgusting, indescribable feeling of filth. Where my body trembles beyond control. Where my mind is corrupt with thoughts of what could've happened to me. Where the mere sound of my heart beating rattles my insides so much I feel like I'm about to throw up. Where every time I look down, I have huge red marks everywhere his hands touched. It's all over me. It's like a weight over my shoulder desperately trying to drag me down. A weight I can't get rid of. I hate it. It's more than hate. I hate it to the point where I hate myself. Because I am a constant, walking, living reminder of that moment. I hate myself to the point where I feel numb. Where not even ending my life would be enough to escape this pain and fear.
All I need is a shower. I need to get clean. I need to get this dirt off me.
Harry pulled into the driveway, and I wasted no time running out the car and into the front door. My feet carried me up the stairs as I was tunnel vision on the shower. I burst into Harrys bedroom, went straight into the bathroom and slammed the door behind me. I locked it. To feel safe. So I knew I was alone.
Twisting the shower on, I pulled my blazer off and tossed it into the corner of the room. Stepping into the shower, I let the warm water trickle over my face, down my body, until it disappeared down the drain. My shaking hands grabbed the body wash and squeezed it over every inch of my body. "Need to get clean. Need to get clean." I mumbled to myself, as I lathered up the soap. Rinsing it under the shower water, I prayed to god I would be rid of those awful red marks. Yet they were still there. Like a tattoo. A permanent reminder. A reminder so bad I wanted to tear my own skin off.
*knock knock knock*
"Prim..." Harry cooed from the other side of the door. "It's me, Harry. I'm not going to hurt you. Would you let me in?" He said very calmly. I didn't respond.
I was too focused on washing that man off me. I repeated the same steps: soap, lather, rinse. He was still there. Soap. Lather. Rinse. Not gone. Soap. Lather. Rinse. Still not going. Soap. Lather. Rinse. "THERES NO MORE SOAP!" I yell, launching the empty bottle across the room. My head fell against the tiled shower wall, as my body collapsed to the floor.
There, I sat in a heap of my own tears. A heap of my own fears. Why wasn't it going away? It went away last time? What's so different now? Tears began to blind my vision again, as Harry continued to knock at the door.
"Primrose... listen to my voice. It's Harry." I could tell he was getting desperate. I still didn't say a thing. I had nothing to say to him. For some reason, I hated him. Every ounce in my body hated him. This is twice he's not been there for me in a situation like this. Twice. It should be zero. I know, deep, deep down this isn't his fault. But I don't have the strength to look that deep. I have nothing. All I have, is my emotions on the surface. And they are at boiling point.
"You left me." I say, sitting up to lean against the wall. "You left me, and I got taken. By a man who told me he wanted to rape me. A man who told me he'd been watching me." I cry, pulling myself up to stand.
"I know, Primrose. Please, can you just open this door so I can see if you're alright." Harry begs, his voice sounding raspy and raw.
I turn off the shower, silently crying to myself as I wrap a towel around my cold, weak body. I take small, slow steps towards the door. "I can't let you in."
"Take your time, P. There's no rush." He tries to assure me.
"There's no time, Harry! There's no time to be taken. It's already happened. I've already experienced it. We don't have time to take, wallowing in self pity and crying about how scary it was. I'm still dirty. He's still on me. I can feel him. His hand is still on my waist." I say, as I turn and look at myself in the mirror. Peeling the towel off my naked body, the red handprints are still as dominant as ever. "It's like blood..."
Harry doesn't say anything. I just continue to stare at myself in the mirror, looking at how lifeless my face is. I look dead. My eyes were red and puffy from crying, and my skin tingled from the amount of salty droplets that have invaded it today. My head throbbed from the torment it had been put through. My ears stung from the constant ringing that had been abusing them. My heart pounded like a drum against my chest, as my lungs struggled to retain any oxygen. I felt like I was about to die. This was my end. This is how I'll go out. I'm okay with that. Just free me of this torment. Please, take me awa-
"For your eyes only..."
My mind fell silent.
"I'll show you my heart."
The pounding in my chest was no more, as my head steadied itself.
"For when you're lonely..."
My body eased its trembling, as I felt oxygen flood my lungs.
"And forget who you are."
The red marks began to fade from my skin ever so slowly.
"I'm missing half of me, when we're apart."
I wrapped the towel back around my body.
"Now you know me."
I took a step towards the door.
"For your eyes only."
I was now directly in front of the door, and my hand was holding the lock. Slowly, I slid it open. Moving my hand down, I grabbed the knob and twisted it open. As I pulled the door open, my eyes can only hold their position on Harry's emeralds for a few moments, before weakly dropping to the floor.
Harry's eyes were red, and his cheeks were damp. He'd been crying. He was stood directly in-front of me. A large sigh of relief exited his body, as I stood motionless in the bathroom.
"You left me." I mumble, letting one last tear trickle down my face.
"Never again." He says calmly yet sternly. "But I'm here now. You're safe."
My eyes trail up from the floor, along Harrys body, until they meet his emeralds. "I'm safe." I say to myself. "Never again." I mumble. My head begins to spin again, as a sudden blackness engulfs my eyes. I feel my body collapse into Harry's as he catches me from falling.
Finally.
Peace.
Prosperity.
A moment away from reality.
***
A/N:
Uhh... suprise! You get a double chapter update. This is kind of a part 2 from yesterday, as I didn't finish their day together. I hope this chapter wasn't to heavy on you all. Please let me know how you found it.
Also, off topic but loads of people have added this story to a Larry reading list. I find it funny because although there are small Larry moments, I thought it was obvious from the beginning it wasn't about that? Oop please let me know if anyone else thought that. (This isn't shade, I personally find it interesting that so many people think that, but that's probs cuz I know the entire story line.)
Thankyou for reading xx