Isabelle's P.O.V

I let out a loud sob and shakily stood, grasping the doorknob to keep me stable. I stared at myself in the mirror. My eyes were red and puffy, and there were tear stains along my bloated cheeks. I looked absolutely terrible. Quickly wiping my eyes and trying to fix myself up, even though I knew Harry was long-gone, I opened the door, peeking through, just to make sure. Nobody.

Sniffling, I slowly padded over to my bedroom. A part of me hoped that Harry was still here, so that I could explain my stupid self, but another part pleaded to God that he was gone. He deserved so much better than me.

I opened the door to my bedroom and peeked inside. There was still the same soft music streaming from the stereo, the same beautiful rose petals scattered along the floor and the bed. A cinnamon scent lingered in the room, and I immediately began to cry again.

Tears pouring down my face silently, I soundlessly made my way to my bed. I stared down at it. The bedspread was how it had always been: green and white and brown shaded and traced leaves. But the red rose petals added a beautiful contrast.

Then I noticed something that I hadn’t noticed before. Lying against the swell of the pillows was a plain white piece of paper, with the word ‘Isabelle’ scripted in what I recognized as Harry’s beautiful cursive writing. My bottom lip already beginning to quiver, I reached for the note, but then I hesitated. What if he wrote that he hated me? What if all he did was insult me?

But I shook my head, figuring that it didn’t matter. I had already screwed things up. We were over. There was no ‘us’ anymore. There was only Harry, and the skank that broke his heart.

A tear slipped down my cheek.

I snatched up the little note, figuring that it would be best to just get it over with, instead of letting the anticipation and the ‘what if’s kill me slowly. Okay, Isabelle. Here goes…you can do it. It’s just like ripping off a bandage.

I opened the note, only to find four simple words:

I love you.
Harry

Those words alone were enough to send me spiralling into another wave of sadness. I cried, louder and wilder than before, figuring that nobody was here to stop me. Taking one last look at the note, I crumpled it into a little ball and threw it across the room. It hit the wall and fell to the floor, and at that moment, my composure completely collapsed.

I screamed loudly, sweeping my arm across the bed, sending all of the beautiful rose pedals scattering. I felt as though my stomach and my chest would explode. I ripped the sheets back on my bed and collapsed on top of it, crying uncontrollably. I snatched up my pillow and screamed into it, wishing that I could just die. My life was so unfair. My mother was dead, my ex-boyfriend had done something terrible, and my current relationship with a guy that I genuinely liked was over.

Suddenly, I sat up, tears still streaming down my face. I quickly made my way over to the bathroom, opening the cupboard behind the door loudly. I didn’t think that I’d ever need this again, but clearly I was wrong. I just wanted to take my mind off of the emotional pain. So I had to cause myself a different kind of pain, that’s it.

I finally found what I was looking for. Grasping the blade in my hand, I sat down on the floor of the washroom, cross-legged, bringing my wrist up. I gritted my teeth as I sliced the blade against my skin, immediately causing blood to spring forth. A few cuts later, I was writhing in pain; I hadn’t done this in so long, and the pain was new again. Blood seeped down my arm as I screamed again. Spots appeared before my eyes, and when I tried blinking, they only grew larger in size and number. Eventually I just squeezed my eyes shut, trying to calm myself by taking deep breaths, but they did nothing for me. I slumped against the bathroom wall.

I blinked again, trying to get a bearing of my surroundings, but I could feel myself slipping away. Just then, the bathroom door burst open. "Isabelle!"

Was that…? I didn’t even know. I was being hoisted up.

Head lolling to the side, I was only aware of warm, naked skin against my own. A moment later, I felt plushness underneath me. I guess I was in my bed. I blinked again, trying to stay conscious, but it was no use.

I fainted.

***

My eyelids fluttered as I blinked. I could feel my long eyelashes tickle my cheeks just below my eyes, and that was when I registered the spiking in my temples. Fuck, it hurt. What had happened again?

I sat up groggily; trying to push myself up with my arms, but then hissed in pain and fell back onto my back. I held up my arms; only to find that they were covered in white bandages. Of course. I remembered everything now. Harry had wanted to make love to me. I’d said no. I’d cut. It all came rushing back to me with such force that I suddenly found it hard to breathe.

God, I was a massive idiot.

But who had bandaged my arms? Who had picked me up, carried me to my bed, and kept me safe through what could’ve possibly been the most vulnerable moment of my life? I looked over at the clock beside my bed, still trying to wake up fully and get my bearings. It was seven o’clock in the morning. It couldn’t have been Kate. She’d gone to crash at a friend’s place. She probably wasn’t even awake yet.

Just then, I heard the sound of footsteps, and a moment later, the knob on my door jiggled. I gasped, panicking for a moment, and closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep. I opened my eyes half of a millimeter and gazed through my eyelashes. It took everything I had not to gasp again when I saw who stepped through my door.

Harry.

He was wearing only a gray pair of baggy Roots sweatpants. His chest was bare, and so were his feet, and I studied the intricate tattoos littering his body, wanting nothing more than to run to him. His hair was dishevelled, just the way I liked it, but there were bags under his eyes. His cheeks were slightly puffy, and I wondered if he’d been crying. He was carrying a tray with a bowl on it.

I didn’t want to open my eyes. I didn’t want to face him after everything that had happened last night. I felt pathetic, I felt like a failure, and I couldn’t even begin to explain myself. Everything was just so complicated, and I had made things even more difficult. Why didn’t I just come clean to him? What the hell was wrong with me? I couldn’t be honest just once, could I?

I shut my eyes as Harry came closer, and then I heard the rattle of the bowl and cutlery. I guessed that he’d set the tray down. He sighed, and I couldn’t help but to open my eyes slightly again, watching him through my eyelashes. He scowled, and his hand came up to brush some hair off of my forehead. He let his fingers trail down to my cheek, my neck, my collarbone, the swell of my breasts, before stopping. Thank God, because if he’d continued, I probably would’ve shivered with pleasure and given my composure away.

“You’re so stupid,” Harry whispered, “You’re so stupid.”

And I couldn’t help but to agree with him. Why did I have to be such a dumbass? Fuck Cameron. He had taken away my ability to trust after what he’d done. Because of him, my relationship with Harry was suffering.

Scratch that; I didn’t even know if I could call it a relationship anymore. After last night, I’d probably screwed everything up. Harry probably hated me now, after everything that I’d done.

Finally, I was about to open my eyes, and just tell him that I was awake. I could feel the duvet warming my body, and realised that I was still only wearing my bra and panties, and I immediately felt insecure. Harry scratched his forehead, his eyes closing momentarily.

“You know,” my voice came out raspy, surprising even me, “If you’re that tired, maybe you should sleep.” As soon as he heard me, he jumped, and I managed to fight the smile that was trying to form on my face. Now was not the time for jokes.

“Fucking hell, Isabelle,” Harry cursed loudly, and I couldn’t help but to smile. He managed to smile too, but it looked forced, pained, and tired. I immediately felt bad.

“I’m so sorry about last night,” I admitted quietly. Harry gave me a glare that made me immediately shrink back, “I swear to God,” he said, through clenched teeth, “If you ever apologise for something that wasn’t your fault again—”

“It was my fault,” I cut him off, tears pricking at the back of my eyes, “Goddammit Harry, it was my fault! You don’t have to take responsibility for everything you know! If I’d just been honest with you from the beginning, we could’ve avoided this whole mess, we could’ve had the best sex ever, but no, I had to ruin it! I always ruin it! And now I’ve ruined our relationship, and you hate me and—”

It was Harry’s turn to interrupt me. But he didn’t speak; he simply pressed his lips to mine. I shut up fairly quickly, snaking my bandaged arms out from under the covers of my bed and gripping the back of his neck for dear life. God, I was so afraid that he’d leave me.

We pulled back, and Harry sat on the bed, gazing down at me dreamily and stroking my hair. It felt really good. I closed my eyes and whispered, “I thought you’d leave me. Because I couldn’t give you what you wanted.”

“What?” he spat, “Sex?” When I nodded, he shook his head vigorously, “I don’t want your body Isabelle. I want you. I want to be with you, to love you, to know that you love me back.”

I blinked, and a tear escaped my eye, trailing onto my temple and down to my hair, dampening it. More quickly followed. Harry leaned down, pecking my face wherever the tears were. His lips felt amazing on my skin. He pulled back, licking his lips, and I croaked out, “I do love you Harry. But I have…trust issues.”

“Why, baby?” he asked me gently, resuming stroking my hair. God, he had no idea what the hell he did to me. I closed my eyes, debating with myself. I should just grow a pair and tell him.

“Two years ago,” I began; my voice no higher than a whisper. For a moment, I faltered, hesitating, not really wanting to continue. But then I opened my eyes, and saw Harry’s piercing green orbs staring at me lovingly, and I found the strength to go on. Because Harry did that to me. He made me strong.

“I—I had a boyfriend. His name was Cameron. We were in love, or—or at least I thought so. He tried to take my virginity one night, but I refused. After that, he got kind of distant, I guess. And then, one day, I walked in on him in his room…” I took a deep breath, trying not to completely break down, “And—and he had someone else there. Another girl.” A tear escaped my eye again, and Harry pursed his lips.

“That bastard,” he hissed, and I shook my head, “That’s—that’s not all. I mean, I was really heartbroken, but my friends were trying to get me to forget about him, so—so they took me to this party. But after a while, I guess I wasn’t really feeling it, because I left. I was walking alone, at night,” I took another deep breath and opened my eyes, trying to show Harry just how much I was hurting, “He raped me, Harry. He raped me. He followed me, and pulled me into an alley, and gagged me, while he touched me in all sorts of places. He told me that he had a gun, and that if I made any noise, he’d shoot me. And then he pressed it to my back, just to show me. I didn’t even know if—if it was loaded. I was just so scared that I couldn’t think. And then he raped me. He took my virginity that night.” I closed my eyes again, whispering, “That’s not how I wanted my first time to go. But it happened. And ever since, I’ve just—I…”

“Shh, baby,” Harry consoled me, wiping my eyes with his thumb. I caught his hand and held it to my face, keeping my eyes screwed shut, while silent tears dripped down my face. I opened my eyes and stared at the night sky on my ceiling, wishing that I could just forget about everything. I could still remember things from that night, even though I desperately didn’t want to. I winced, trying to block the images from my mind, with very little success.

“I’m so sorry Harry,” I mumbled, staring into his eyes, “But now you know. I—I can’t have sex with you. I’m just so wary about it. It—it scares me.” Harry leaned down and kissed me. It was a long, lingering kiss, no tongue, just with our lips. And I loved every moment of it.

“I’ll wait until you’re ready,” he whispered when he pulled back, “If you want, I can even take it step-by-step with you. You know…” he cleared his throat uncomfortably, and a small smile cracked on my face as he continued, “The little things first. We’ll get there gradually.”

I smiled gratefully at him, and pulled him in for another kiss. When we broke apart, I rested my forehead on his, and breathed, “I’d like that very much.” He smirked good-naturedly at me before turning serious again, “I—I could even get us a couple’s counselling session. You know, to just talk it all out.”

I nodded, thinking that it was a great idea. “You’re so amazing Harry,” I whispered, pulling him down into the bed with me. He snuggled up under the covers with me, and I hitched a bare thigh over his bare hip. He used one hand to prop his head up, staring down at me, and the other rested nonchalantly on my thigh. I tried not to shiver.

“So I’ve been told,” he smirked, and then pursed his lips, “I’m happy you told me. I just wish you’d told me sooner. We could’ve worked it all out together. What happened to being honest with each other?”

That was what I’d been expecting. I stared at his chest, not wanting to meet his eyes, tracing the butterfly tattoo on his abdomen with my fingernail absentmindedly. “Hey,” he said gently, cupping my chin and bringing my face up, so that I had no choice but to meet his beautiful green orbs, “Isabelle,” he pleaded, his voice slightly shaky, “Talk to me. You have to talk to me if we’re ever going to work this out. Please.”

I nodded, “I know. I’m sorry. I just—I never told anyone about that. Not even Kate. I mean, she knows that he cheated on me, but I didn’t tell her about the—the other part.” I didn’t want to say the word ‘rape’ again…at all really, anytime soon. Harry was the first person that I’d come clean, one-hundred percent about Cameron. I felt as though I could trust him with anything. I loved him so much.

Harry nodded curtly, and then sighed, pulling me into his body, hugging me tightly, “I love you so much, you know that?” he asked, and I nodded. He pulled back, holding me at arm’s length, so that he could stare into my eyes, “I mean it. You are the most amazing person I’ve ever met, Isabelle. You’ve undergone so much, and you’re so strong.”

I laughed hollowly, “It’s you,” I whispered, “You make me strong.” He smiled tenderly at me before pulling me into another tight, secure hug. I felt safe in his arms. His hands glided down to my back, where he traced small circles. I shivered, the feeling making bubbles rise in my stomach.

Harry was just…Harry. He was so perfect, and I loved him so much.

Notes

So now you know...*grave voice*

Let me just start off by saying that I do not mean to offend anyone. I would never include self-harming in a story if I didn't know how serious of a matter it was. I am not labelling anyone as anything, so just know that if you do self-harm, I was not trying to offend you in any way possible.

Our bodies are like the Earth: Young and beautiful, but only the most inquisitive and insightful people do not take them for granted.
-Me :)

But aside from all that, I hope you liked this chapter! You finally know what happened to Isabelle. So sad :( But please continue to vote, comment and subscribe! It means a lot to me, especially the votes and comments, so thank you!

~You're all gorgeous, wonderful human beings, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise~