Little Bird

I had no concept of time, no idea how long had passed, I guess it had been a few hours since Harry had tied my wrists together, arms pinned above my head and legs strapped together, though it felt like days. By the time he finally came back, I was half asleep, willingly allowing darkness to consume me. My legs, as my body gradually fell limp caused the top to tug harshly on my damaged wrists, scraping and grazing the torn, red raw skin.
My eyelids had fluttered shut and I was peacefully drifting off when I was forced to recognize Harry’s abrupt presence as he hoisted my body back upright from my slanted position. Wearily my eyelids flickered open, and my head rolled to the opposite shoulder, eyes finding Harry’s.
“You can go to the bathroom. Then I’ll make you something to eat.” At least he isn’t starving me, I thought firstly, before I nodded my head timidly, feeling an undeniable accumulation of negative emotions attacking me.
He was still mad at me, and I shouldn’t have cared in the very slightest, but I did. I hated people being mad at me, even if Harry was my kidnapper and terrified me to an explicable degree, and I should have been mad at him; I hated knowing anyone, him included, harboured any sense of anger towards me.
I tried to force myself to speak, but I found myself again unable to – unable to pluck up the courage to force the words from my lips.
And so, silence surrounded us as Harry untied my legs first, and then when finally my wrists were untied, nothing left to hold up my body, my weight forced my unsteady legs to collapse beneath me, a small squeak falling from my lips as I toppled over. Harry clearly wasn’t expecting it, as I fell against the wall and messily onto the floor; he stared down at me in pure shock – the abrupt consequence of untying me happening so unexpectedly he barely registered it.
“Ouch,” I whimpered feebly, hand reaching up to my forehead where it had collided with the wall, the area that Harry had only recently removed the large plaster from, the wound I had unintentionally created upon realising my capture not fully healed.
I had the immediate urge to cry some more.
Harry quickly knelt down beside me, hand catching mine before I could gently touch the area that was beginning to painfully throb.
“No, no.” He mumbled sternly, “Don’t touch it.”
He brought my hand to my lap and I left it there, the urge to touch it outweighed my Harry’s clear and strict instruction. I stared at the floor rather than Harry as his green eyes roamed across my forehead, inspecting the damage, before he grasped hold of my arms to pull my body back up, grip not soft nor particularly cautious but not as tight as I had suffered beforehand.
I got to my feet with the support of Harry, steadying myself as much I could. I wasn’t only emotionally weak.
“I’ve never met anyone clumsier in my entire life.” He said, tone stern letting me know that he still wasn’t remotely happy with me, but when I timidly peeked up at him, his lips held the lightest tint of a smile.
I bit my lip sheepishly, “I just lack grace,” I told him quietly, and he nodded, eyebrows rose slightly.
“I don’t doubt that.”

This time when Harry took my hand as he dragged me away, I thought we might’ve been making a little process as his grip didn’t inflict any more pain to my wrists, but the grip was just as tight, large hand crushing my fingers.
When we reached the kitchen I was released near the table, but when Harry began rummaging through the kitchen cupboards I stood awkwardly, not knowing whether I should sit down or not.
Harry turned around with some kitchen roll in his hands. “Sit.” He nodded to the chair, and I did so, wearily watching him as he held it beneath the cold tap. “It’s not bleeding and you didn’t hit it hard, but you hit it where your head was already hurt and I don’t want to take any chances in that you could have a mild concussion.” He told me, monotone.
I nodded, unable to fight the instinctive flinch as he pressed the cold compress to my head, but I could barely feel the throbbing anyway. I felt numb. I was incapable of feeling a thing.
“I’ll go the toilet then go back.” I mumbled quietly, slowly standing from the cha8r and beginning to walk from the room.
“Birdy,” Harry’s voice stopped me in my tracks. “You’ve just no doubt bruised your head that’s already hurt. I’m not completely heartless.” He walked up to me, looking down at me with his features softened, but only slightly. “Go shower and get into some clean clothes, and then here while I make you some food. Don’t do anything else, okay?”

~*~

I complied with Harry’s wishes. I showered, changed and ate the food he’d prepared for me, not complaining, not thinking, and barely functioning. I felt numb still, void of emotion, empty.
I sat on the couch, knees brought protectively to my chest, staring solemnly into space. The TV wasn’t on, and Harry had wondered off upstairs moments ago, leaving silence to form around me. Normally my mind would be spinning, spiralling out of control as I over-thought every possible thing I could, analyzing the situation to bring a wave of anxiety and worry upon myself; but I couldn’t. I was incapable of doing so.
I was so tired, exhaustion heavy within me, weighing the entirety of me down. I was both mentally and physically drained of all energy.
“Birdy?”
I flinched upon hearing a familiar voice, not realising his unexpected presence. I looked up to Louis standing in the doorway, offering a small twitch of my lips. As far as I knew, Louis wasn’t a bad person. He knew about my kidnapping and I wanted to resent him for allowing Harry to go through with it, and now help me while I was trapped in a personal hellhole – but he was just being extremely loyal to his best friend, and I kind of envied that Harry had somehow whose loyalty stretched to extreme lengths. I couldn’t blame Louis for being a really good friend – even if I really wanted to and even if that was a factor preventing my escape.
He smiled back at me, a small and sad smile that didn’t suit his bubbly, spontaneous character. “Your cheeks so red,” he stated quietly.
“Did Harry do that?” He asked softly, reminding me of when we had first met. I had shook my head and insisted that I had fallen into a lamp; only now things were different. I gulped and nodded my head timidly.
Louis expression was unreadable, a contrast of whirling emotions that merged with one another, anger, sadness, sympathy, disappointment. He looked as if he was fighting an internal battle as he stood still, frozen in the spot deciding whether to join me on the couch or not; lips parting but only to close once again.
A sigh fell from his lips, sitting beside me. I instinctively tensed up, and he pretended not to notice.
“I’m not here to defend him – I’m shocked and… I – he’s never, ever done anything remotely close to this before, but his anger he just can’t control it sometimes. But like I said I’m not here to defend him, I’m not going to sit here and tell you what he did was for a good reason, a right reason or that his actions were justified,” he rambled worriedly, “I just wanted to see if you were okay.”
He finished finally, and I wondered why he at all was being nice to me. He had no reason to show any kindness to me in any way, maybe he harboured some sympathy due to my current situation; but still I was surprised why his sad features and voice were coated with such a genuine concern.
I nodded my head, my immediate reaction to do so, reassuring him that I was fine with a small lie in the form of two little words. “I’m fine.” I whispered.
His bright blue eyes latched on mine, staring at me intensely. “Birdy. Are you okay?” He repeated again, words accentuated in a clear and clean tone. His hands gently gripped my upper arms and concerned gaze roaming my forlorn features; I found what tiny composure I had left cracked at the small, simple question. I shook my head, face scrunching up as tears leaked instantaneously. “No.” I whimpered, to have his arms immediately wrap around me.
I accepted the hug willingly; his secure embrace not a familiar one, but exactly what I needed. I needed comfort and I needed to cry and I needed someone to hold me.
“Do you miss your family?” He asked gently, presumably thinking that that was the reason I had suddenly attempted to run away, not even thinking of doing so beforehand out of pure fear and worry of consequence. He probably thought the phone call had triggered something within me to want to escape, or fuel to the need to escape, to go back home and be with them. And it had, only for a different reason. I had convinced myself in the midst of my hysterical state that maybe my granddad wasn’t dead, and I needed desperately to discover the truth.
If I was being completely honest, even if I did feel guilty about it – I didn’t miss my family and I highly doubted they missed me.
I surprised him when I whimpered a small ‘no’ again.
“What is it then?” He asked gently.
Maybe it was his comforting tone or the heavy weight on my shoulders that caused my trembling lips to part, and reveal the real reason why I had presented Harry with such uncharacteristic behaviour and careless actions. Maybe it was that I needed to tell someone, anyone but Harry. Maybe I merely needed to cry and let it out.
“My – my mum told me, o-on the phone,” I stuttered into his chest, “My granddad, he – he died, h-he’s gone.”
Louis tightened his arms around me at my confession, and he allowed me to continue crying in his chest for a little while, remaining silent as I did so.
“Harry doesn’t know, does he?” He questioned quietly, receiving another small no in response.
“You know I’m going to have to tell him, don’t you?” He said, again quietly and gently, speaking in the same comforting tone as earlier. Of course when I had spilled the truth to Louis I knew he would tell Harry, and I knew I would have to deal with the aftermath of that too, whatever it maybe, but I still wasn’t looking forward to it, nor was I prepared for it.
“Louis?” A sharp voice cut through the tranquil atmosphere like a knife, Harry’s stern voice making me want to sink further into Louis comforting hug, hoping that I might disappear. “What are you doing here?” Harry questioned, almost accusingly. His anger hadn’t faltered. “Birdy what are you doing?”
Louis gave my back a last comforting rub with the palm of his hand before pulling away, “I just came to see how Birdy’s doing,” he answered briefly, turning his attention to Harry only for a moment before looking back at me, concerned and sympathetic eyes latching on mine once more. “Do you want to be here, when I…” he trailed off.
I shook my head immediately, “I wanna go bed.” I answered like a little kid, rubbing at my eyes.
“Okay,” he nodded, and I took that as my cue to stand. I avoided Harry’s intense stare, his piercing gawk that I knew was fixated on me as I tried exiting the room, but as I walked passed Harry near the doorway, his arm shot out, hand clamping around my wrist; as if he was purposely trying to cause me more harm. I winced unintentionally as I was stopped in my tracks.
“No, I want her downstairs.” He spoke looking at Louis, before turning his attention to me. “Sit down, Birdy.”
As I went to do so, Harry’s grip began to loosen, but Louis spoke up, and it tightened once more as I stopped. “Birdy, just go on up,” he nodded encouragingly. I looked back up Harry, not knowing what to do, but his hardened features and jaw clenched, anger present on his face told me to listen to him.
“No. Birdy’s mine, she does what I say.” He said possessively, and I couldn’t help but frown, not only at his choice of words but how he was talking to his best friend. Harry might not have been in the best of moods, evidently so, but still, was this how you repaid something who wasn’t telling the police about your law breaking? Was this how you treated your best friend who hadn’t told the police he was currently keeping a girl captive in his home?
But Louis didn’t seem hurt, or angry, or annoyed in the slightest at Harry. “Birdy, go on.” He nodded again, and I found myself looking from each boy, brow creased in confusion as I pondered over what to do.
Harry’s anger answered for me. “Birdy,” he began, fury in his tone. “Whose are you?” His voice was fairly quiet, but uneven, wavering with the effort of controlling his anger.
I hated angry Harry.
As if he had read my mind, his hand on my arm tightened significantly, and I whimpered under his smoldering grip; pangs of pain erupting at the area that was evidently already damaged at his hands and actions.
“Harry,” Louis started, noticing my distress and fear. I hadn’t even noticed that I had begun crying again. “Just let her go off up-”
“NO!” Harry abruptly shouted, immediately causing me to flinch and a cry to escape my lips.
“Mate, you’re scaring her.” Louis stated softly, capturing Harry’s attention and seemingly calming his anger down a little. Harry tried pulling me closer to him, but I moved as far away as I possibly could, crying and shaking my head repeatedly – not wanting to be anywhere near him when anger was taking control of him. He was a different person when he was angry.
“Birdy.” He said sternly, and I shook my head, refusing to look at him.
He gave my body a harsh tug that had me stumbling back into him, and he was about to part his lips no doubt to release angry trial’s that would only increase my fear and resentment, but Louis spoke up, saving me before he could. “Harry – Harry, her granddad died.” I released another sob as Louis finally said it aloud, eyes falling the floor.
“What?”
I took the opportunity, why Harry was met with confusion and as a result distracted, his grip loose to shake him off, as I ran from the room as fast as I could, leaving a trail of my cries behind, echoing throughout the room.

I sunk my face into my pillow, tears that streamed freely down my cheeks soaking the material; the duvet was brought over my head, hoping to conceal myself from the boy I knew would be up any minute; knees brought to my chest as I curled into a feeble ball, wanting to create as much safety and comfort as I could for myself before all that would be snatched. I dreaded Harry’s arrival; I didn’t want to know what he would do.
“Birdy?” His voice was quiet, and that should have comforted me at least a little considering moments ago I had had the displeasure of witnessing a loud, abrupt shout; voice tense and brimming with rage as it bounced off of the walls.
I cried harder at his presence, not even attempting to stifle the sobs.
He sat beside me, placing a hand on my lip.
“Birdy,” he repeated, voice remaining hushed. His hand tugged softly at the duvet, but my hands had it clenched in my fingers, tucked away in my chest.
“Look at me.” He instructed softly.
A sob broke free from my lips; wanting so badly to ignore him, wanting him to go away so I could cry myself to sleep, cry away the grief and cry away all the consuming emotions that were eating me up inside as a result of Harry’s given consequences, all due to my carless and thoughtless actions.
But Harry scared me and no matter how much desire I had to desperately what I wanted, I couldn’t. Standing up for myself in the past and just earlier had never got me anywhere, only worked against me.
Slowly and timidly I unpeeled the safety from me, reluctantly looking up at Harry as I sat upright. His expression was unreadable, a contrast of various emotions.
I sniffed, wiping at my eyes and cheeks.
“Come here.” He said, instructing for me to close the small distance between us. I stayed frozen, however, frozen with fear and resentment that wouldn’t allow me to comply with his demands. I wanted his arms nowhere near me. I wanted as much space between us as possible. I didn’t want him to hurt me.
Harry noticed the evident uneasiness, my lack of movement. He read my mind. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He told me softly, but immediately I shook my head a little, pressing my lips tightly together, watery blue eyes feebly meeting his green ones. Bravely I gulped, and then parted my lips to reveal my unforeseen reply.
“You already have.”
My voice was a shaky whisper, as if I expected more from him. A few more tears dripped onto my cheeks, and quickly I wiped them away with the back of my hand, hating myself for crying in front of him yet again.
A sigh passed through his lips, I thought I witnessed a flash of remorse pass over his face.
“I had to do it, Birdy. I can’t have you thinking its okay to run away and disobey me – you needed to learn your lesson.” I wondered whether he really believed the words he was telling me, or whether he was trying to convince himself that his earlier actions were the right thing to do as much as he was trying to convince me.
But I didn’t need convincing.
“I know,” I mumbled, knowing it would have happened sooner or later anyway. Harry was my kidnapper; he wasn’t supposed to be nice; that wasn’t how kidnappers or kidnapping worked. This wasn’t a movie, this was reality – not an odd love story or a TV drama, and this was real, real bare and true. I wasn’t a guest here, I was a prisoner; and I was the one who had tried to run away twice; and I was the one who had provoked him, for the first time my choice to voice my thoughts and at least try to stand up for myself in vain. It was a stupid decision that had ultimately ended up with anguish tearing at my insides and my cheek throbbing and red.
“Birdy I had to it w-” Harry cut himself off, looking at me in meek confusion at my agreement and not an argument to defend myself.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Birdy. I don’t take pleasure in being mean or horrible to you,” he started, “but you-”
“You’re supposed to.” I cut off quietly, fidgeting with my hands in my lap. He again, looked at me in confusion, eyebrows scrunched together. “You – you kidnapped me… You’re supposed to be horrible and mean. And you’re supposed to hurt me. You’re not meant to be nice to me, that - that’s how kidnapping works… right?” I trailed off shakily; scared to peek up at him beneath my wet eyelashes to witness his reaction, so my gaze remained fixated on me lap as nervously I fidgeted with my fingers.
And as I did, my eyes strayed to my damaged right wrist, skin torn and grazed, rope lines imprinted into the tender area. It was undeniably sore, and more tears sprung to my eyes as earlier events played through my mind.
“Look at me.” He repeated in the same soft voice. Harry waited for a few moments, before timidly I lifted my head and did so. His features had softened a significant amount, brow now crinkled slightly as his green eyes met mine. “You’re not here so I can hurt you, or be horrible to you. I didn’t… ‘Kidnap’,” he flinched slightly, “you for that – I just want you Birdy. Just you.
“I only did what I did because you broke the rules, if you behave and you’re good I can treat you like a princess, better than anyone. I can buy you nice things and take you new places. I can give you an adventure, Little Bird – I can give you a whole new world… you just have to stop fighting me.
“But then,” he continued, “I didn’t know why you were acting out last night and earlier – if I would have known then I’d have never handled the situation the way I did. Birdy, why didn’t you tell me?”
I started crying again, and cursing inwardly at myself for crying, and wiping furiously at my cheeks, and wanting so badly so hide under the bedcovers and ignore everything and everyone and stay there for at least a few days.
But I couldn’t.
“Come here.” Harry said again, his face now a confusing mask of sympathy and concern. I knew better than to disobey him yet again and maybe I was being utterly ridiculous but he looked genuine and honest, so I did. I crawled across the bed, the small distance to him, reluctantly abandoning the warm duvet into Harry’s ready embrace. I was pulled onto his lap, his arms wrapping around my small frame as he cuddled me with such a contrasting warmth and affection I cried harder.
“B-Because,” I stuttered through cries. “If I said it out loud it would make it real. And then you – you were so, so angry and I ju-just I-”
“It’s okay.” Harry comforted, creating soothing circles with his thumb on the back of my hand. If I wasn’t so concerned at how I was going to manage getting the words past my lips, I would have marvelled in awe at how the Harry I that I had had the displeasure of witnessing late last night and early this morning was the same Harry who was managing to provide an uncanny sense of safety and comfort simply with two short words and small gestures.
“He had a heart a-attack… two days ago.”
Immediately Harry’s grip on me tightened, a hand on the back of my head that guided it to his chest,
My head found purchase on his chest, while his arms wrapped around me, one hand on the back of my head, the other cradling my back.

“Harry?” I whispered eventually, tears continuing to soak his chest. “Do you hate me?” I sniffed.
“I could never hate you, Little Bird.” I don’t know why but I smiled a little. “I just want you here with me, I want you safe.” He spoke quietly, voice hushed as if he was taking into consideration that maybe raising his voice even in the slightest would interrupt the tranquil, peaceful atmosphere, and could even startle me. I was still undeniably scared of Harry, but I had discovered with him things were so confusing, I couldn’t understand because I feared him, but now, his arms enveloping me I felt an odd sense of safety and security. He wanted me safe, and although that contradicted his earlier actions, right now, I did feel safe. I didn’t feel like Harry would hurt me at all.
Which made the entire situation much more confusing, but I disregarded all clashing and contradicting and colliding thoughts – savouring the warmth and security his arms brought me.
“I don’t want you to hurt, baby girl.” He mumbled; chin resting at the top of my head.
“I just want you safe.” He repeated truthfully.

Notes

i can't believe all the reviews I'd had on the previous chaptersss:o I'm in awe, thank you all soo muchhh!:}

I'm sorry if this chapter isn't very good, I've been ill these past couples of days but I really wanted to put up this chapter :) so tell me what you think again, I reaaallllyy appreciate it! x

and how sweet was louis in this chapter?? aw

oh and which are better, longer chapters or shorter chapters? :3

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