Little Bird

Immediately I was greeted with a gust of wind and an abundance of heavy raindrops, the icy air blowing errant strands of hair around my face, and the water pelting from the skies soaking my clothes. My feet splashed in the puddles and against the wet ground as I made it out of the garden past Harry’s gate. I spun to the right, taking off in any random direction, not aware of where I was or where I was planning on going to get home.
I was lost, but all I could do was run.

“Birdy!” Harry shouted from behind me, closer than I initially anticipated. His voice was loud, the droplets bouncing off the ground unable to faze the angry exclamation that burst up his throat, tone dark and even from how many meters away holding a profound intimidation that kneaded with rage and fury that I definitely didn’t want to end up on the receiving end of, not with my body caged helplessly in his.
I had a chance, I had a chance to escape, to be free; I had a chance to get back home and release myself from the mess somehow I had gotten caught in, for reasons still untold to me.
Or at least I had hoped that I had the chance.
But then Harry repeated my name; his voice closer and his hands snagged my waist, my little taste of freedom short-lived as I was pulled backwards into his ready arms. I thrashed and kicked and struggled wildly against him but his firm grip didn’t falter in the very slightest; my struggles unfazed him and his strength that in comparison to mine counted for a whole lot more in preventing me from beating his strong grasp on me.
“Let go off me,” I cried, “You have to let me go!” Even shouting my voice was so much quieter than his, almost drowned out by the heavy rain that smashed against the pavement and soaked mine and Harry’s clothing and bare skin.
“Never.” He growled against my neck, accentuating the word perfectly with such a menacing tone I released a feeble whimper in fear; but the tears that leaked down my cheeks mingled with rainwater and I hoped he’d be none the wiser. I tried elbowing him in the ribs but the decision to do so was in vain, futile in breaking free from his suffocating hold, and he merely gripped tighter to me, increasing the pressure against my stomach. My body was lifted, feet no longer touching the ground my legs flailing, attacking his own in hope he’d release me.
But my hope, like the small sense of freedom I had somehow managed to achieve was cut short.
I realized, upsettingly, as I was hauled back to the house Harry expected me to call ‘home’, that I had barely made it down the street. He dragged my body that fought hopelessly against him through the gate, into the garden and eventually until the warmth and heat of the house hit me, the familiarity of the place I had been held captive in for a mere three days too overwhelming to bare.
I released the distress through my heartfelt cries as we passed Louis, who completely silent, stood with his lips agape and eyes wide, a befuddled mute and clueless on what to do. It could have been the water pooled in my eyes, but I could of swore his features were soft, an undeniable touch of sympathy in his bright blue orbs. He didn’t look cheerful, but the complete opposite of what I had witnessed just last night.
“N-No,” I cried like a small child, “I wanna go home, I wanna go h-home.” My hands gripped his large ones that were interlocked at my waist, and I tried my best to prize them open; before eventually my body fell limp in his arms and I gave up with a defeated cry, hands holding his but still, no longer making meek attempts to make an escape I knew I could never have.
“Lou I think its best you go.” Harry said, anger still present in hit one, but his voice was quiet and I knew he was making an attempt to at least appear calm. Though it was evident he was far from it.
“Go easy, yeah?” He mumbled quietly, and then the click of the front door confirmed his departure.
Harry released my body when we reached the living room, only for his hands to wrap around my thin wrists in an iron grip; and as my back was shoved harshly against the wall that separated this room and the kitchen, hard enough to make me wince, my arms were held above my head; pinned with a powerful force that wouldn’t allow me to move, whatever small struggles I had fading, reduced to feeble whimpers.
His eyes were blazing with fire, rage and fury resonating in his midnight orbs that burned dangerously into my watery blue ones.
“What the fuck was that, Birdy?” He growled angrily, narrowing his eyes in such a menacing manner, it caused me to squirm and shuffle nervously (as much as I could with my movements restricted). I whimpered once again as he instinctively tightened his grip on my wrists, giving them both a harsh squeeze that was enough to leave bruises fabricated in fingertips belonging to him and his uncontrollable temper.
And then when my lips remained sealed, trembling, but with no answer leaving, he let go of my left wrist, keeping my right trapped, one hand gripping my jaw in his long fingers; I tried to move my head and refuse his touch but he closed his fingers around the clammy flesh of my jawbone, gripping it tightly so that I was forced to stare into the dark depths of his intimidating eyes.
“Hmm?” He taunted angrily. “I’m starting to think it was a bad idea telling you the rules, because recently you’ve started obeying me a whole lot fucking more.” Asperity seeped even more into his voice as his eyes turned glacial, and I felt his anger radiating in waves.
I felt vulnerable and exposed beneath his heavy gaze, unable to move and fiercely neglect his touch. I felt hopeless; suffocated; trapped.
I squirmed in the uncomfortable position, the pressure on my wrist not easing in the slightest, but as I moved it tightened to a possible further extent, and his hand on my jaw tilted my head up a little; his eyes watching the tears that began spilling from my eyes, this time no mistaking them for raindrops.
“You’re hurting me.” I whimpered fearfully, blinking softly as I looked feebly into his intense, heavy stare, allowing tears to trickle in two gentle rivulets down my wet cheeks, dropping onto his hand that remained holding tightly onto my jaw.
A heavy sigh passed through his lips; but both the grip on my wrist and on my jaw fell as he took a step back, and immediately I choked on a sob of relief, my back still pressed up against the wall as I lacked courage to move.
I was momentarily frozen as he captured my hand in his, and then he gently tugged me over to the couch, my feet dragging along the floor as I found myself following him without a second thought. He sat down, pulling me onto his lap. I sat stiffly, but not once protesting, not once questioning what I was doing sitting on my captor’s lap.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” He muttered almost regretfully.
Harry’s fingers reached up to tuck my wet hair behind my ear, but I thought differently and instinctively squeezed my eyelids shut as I anticipated his potentially hurtful actions, opening them wearily when the strands of damp hair were no longer falling in front of my face. His eyes no longer were bursting with rage – and as they latched on mine I realized he neither no longer looked cold and ruthless.
I looked away, embarrassed by the tears spilling down my cheeks. I couldn’t remember the last time I had cried in the presence of others; but with Harry it seemed I hadn’t stopped.
“It’s okay.” He said softly, and when his hand left my own, both began working on the buttons of my white blouse. I sucked in a breath. My heart thumping so violently I was almost positive it’d rip out of my chest any second. His anger seemed to have cooled, but that didn’t mean I trusted his motives. But with extreme gentleness I didn’t know he was capable of possessing, he had completed the task in undoing all the buttons, and his fingers grazed my shoulders to remove the shirt. He threw it to the floor and reached across behind him to the hoody that was draped over the armchair, and I numbly allowed him to put it on me, covering up my revealed stomach; the fabric warm and comfortable against my skin.
His eyes found mine once again; concern radiating from his previously returned green eyes. He looked at the tears continuing to fall, and it surprised me when he reached up, with his thumb swiping the droplets from my cheeks with a tenderness that brought an inexplicable blush to my cheeks that already were flustered.
“Silly girl.” Harry murmured in a soft yet accusing voice. His arms wrapped around me, and I lost the little fight I had within me. I rested my head on his chest, my wet hair sticking to his loose white t-shirt. He didn’t seem to mind, but hugged me closer and tighter.
Eventually, after crying into Harry’s chest for a few minutes, until my cries had been reduced to small whimpers and the odd hiccup. Without a word from either of us, my small body was bundled into his arms and he carried me bridal style, out of the room and up the stairs, into my own supposed bedroom. He placed me down on the bed, grip leaving. “Stay here, I’ll be back in a sec.” He said simply and quietly, leaving no room for argument. I stayed where I was, eyes glued to the floor until Harry reappeared a few moments later.
He handed me a white towel. “Dry off and then go to sleep.”
I nodded my head a little, sniffling. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow, okay?” I said nothing, allowing him to place a feather light kiss to my forehead, before he turned and left, leaving my mind an all too familiar conflicted mess.

~*~

As I lay awake, sleep refusing stubbornly to consume me and take me away from the worries and clashing thoughts destroying my head, I thought about Harry. I thought about the deep contrast between the two sides of him that I had witnessed; one moment a tone of rage and terrifying intimidation adorning his husky voice, his strength used wisely against me to restrict my entire movements as he scared me half to death; and the next, affectionately tucking back a stand of my hair, voice soft and gentle as was his touch.
I thought about where I would be if I had managed to escape Harry, somehow a miracle happening that allowed me to outrun him; I thought whether I’d be sat on a cold chair in the police station, explaining my situation to an officer. I thought about whether I would be describing Harry’s trademark curly hair, his bright emerald eyes and handsome features to the people that could help in capturing Harry like he’d caught me. The thought seemed unlikely.
I thought about going home, if I ever got back what it would be like, what I would tell my parents, what they would do.
And then I thought about my granddad, the tears I believed I had ran out of springing back to my eyes, rolling onto my cheeks. I thought about everything about him; from the moments we’d shared to convincing myself that my mum was lying to me.
It was a joke, a sick joke or prank, a lie that I wouldn’t allow myself to believe.
Either way, whether I wouldn’t allow myself to believe what my mum had told me, I knew I couldn’t continue like this. I had to know if what I had been told was the truth or not, I had to return home and escape from Harry’s clutches, back to reality, back to my old life. Exhaustion was heavy within me, clouding my jumbled mind with thoughts that made little, if not no sense, but even though the desire to remain tangled in the warmth of the bedcovers was strong, I wouldn’t allow myself to – and sleep wasn’t coming anyway.
I practically threw myself out of the bed, wiping furiously at my tearstained cheeks as I made my way to the opened suitcase lying on the floor, the contents still not unpacked. I undressed as quickly as I possibly could in my tired, disoriented state, carelessly throwing on a pair of leggings, a thick jumper and my converse; not even remotely bothered what I should look like.
The house was silent, and I knew that I had waited long enough until Harry had fallen asleep; meaning I had to ensure that I was even quieter than usual. I prayed desperately my clumsiness wouldn’t sabotage my escape, and I shoved the palm of my hand in front of my mouth, suffocating the sobs that were trying to burst up my throat and break free from my trembling lips, wonder freely around the house to wake up Harry and prevent my silent departure.
The fight I’d thought I’d lost was still there.
I made it successfully past Harry’s door and down the stairs, now that I had made it so far, clueless on what to do. I hadn’t planned far enough ahead, only that I was going to leave.
My jumbled mind was stupid enough to believe that maybe it would be as simple as quietly unlocking the door and then running as fast as I could to find someone who could help me.
I was wrong.
The reality was far from it, in fact.
I reached the front door, and as my hand fumbled to unlock the first lock of many, I flinched backwards and let out a terrified, surprised squeak as a loud alarm suddenly rang in my ears, the consistent noise reverberating off the walls of the house. Light automatically swarmed into each and every room.
And then the alarm was suddenly shut off, as Harry came running down the stairs, spotting me as I looked up at him like a deer frozen in headlights.
His chest was bare, a pair of loose joggers hanging of his hips; his hair was dishevelled a little from sleeping, curls sweeping messily over part of his forehead, and features displaying the type of anger that I desired to be nowhere near. He slowed his pace as he neared the bottom steps, and when I didn’t move, he stopped at the bottom step; meters from me. He had thought this out, putting up extra precautions to ensure my imprisonment not be broken.
“Birdy, what the fuck are you doing?” He asked me simply. Harry’s voice was moderately quiet, but that was nothing to help me remain calm.
“I-I’m going home.” I told him, trying desperately to refrain from breaking into sobs once again. I tried to stand my ground, stand up for myself, at least look the least bit confident. “T-This is just wrong, this isn’t right at all and I can’t stay here. You can’t do this to me. You can’t just kidnap people, and a-and then force them to stay with you-you can’t.”
“Birdy, get back upstairs and go to bed right now; before I really get angry.” The fact that he was trying his best to stay calm was what unnerved me most; but even with the illusion I didn’t fall for that he was calm, because his voice wavered with an undeniable surge of rage that should have sent fear to corrupt my emotions and nerves to escalate to a dangerous amount; but I was determined to get home.
The thoughts were a tornado in my head, tearing my sanity to shreds. I needed to get home. I needed to get home for my Granddad, there was no other thought I could cope with processing.
My face scrunched up in anguish, lips trembling as I shook my head at him. “No,” I whimpered.
I waited for him to make the next move; holding his intense stare bravely through the pools of water in my eyes.
“Birdy.” He warned darkly.
I gave a meek shake of my head, and that was enough to make him snap. Before I could register what was happening, before I could begin to run he had closed the small distance between us, his hands on my hips for a brief moment, and then within a second he had tossed my petite frame over his shoulder as if I was a mere rag doll. I relinquished in an incoherent shriek of objection as I kicked my legs, but he merely restrained my movements with one arm while both my own thrashed and pounded against his back.
My attempts to force him to release me, yet again were futile and hopeless, my strength nothing in comparison to Harry’s.
“Let go of me!” I cried, “I need to go home!” It was ridiculous of me to believe that my desperation would cause him to see sense, but it didn’t stop me from losing whatever dignity I had left through hysterical pleads. “Please, please let me go home, I-I just want to go home.”
Harry blatantly ignored me, and in a way that was worse, because I assumed that his silence conveyed his anger in a better way than shouting. He was simmering with rage, anger, and fury ready to burst through the surface. And the small part of me that was worried of his potential actions rather than intent on escaping, cried with confirmation as on his way back to ‘my’ room, he stopped to grab a pair of handcuffs hidden in the cupboard in his own bedroom. I dreaded to think what else was in there.
My stomach was hurting from Harry’s shoulder digging into my flesh by the time I was finally set down on my bed, nearly toppling off with his lack of gentleness. “Why can’t I go home?” I whimpered peeking up at him from beneath my eyelashes coated in beads of moisture.
Harry said nothing, which both annoyed and scared me. He grabbed my right wrist that had already suffered his anger earlier, and I winced as he did so, locking it in small case of metal before attaching it to the headboard.
His dark eyes latched on mine, and he clenched his jaw. “This is your home now. You are home.” He spoke with such bitterness and viciousness, an evident sign that warned me not to retaliate. But I couldn’t find enough energy to care.
“Like hell it is.” My voice wavered, breaking pitifully in the middle; but I got my point across nonetheless.
His eyes narrowed drastically, spitting daggers at me that was harsh enough to make me wince. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but I was shocked when he turned around. “Go to sleep. You’re going to need your energy for tomorrow.”
When he left, for a few moments thoughts briefly circled in my head, anticipation greeting me in dreading what he meant. But then an abrupt surge of anger met me; irritations coursing through my veins, unaltered resentment bubbling like acid in the pit of my stomach towards the boy that had taken what felt like everything from me. Rage simmered beneath the surface, odd and unfamiliar to me; the emotion so intense and overwhelming I didn’t know what to do.
So I did the only thing that came to mind. I let out a noise that resembled something of growl, and stood from the bed, arm tugging furiously, not acknowledging the pang of pain that erupted as I continued to damage my already damaged wrist.
The bed was slightly crooked, and as cries burst up my throat, my left hand flung to the side, purposely knocking off the lamp that Harry had previously replaced. It smashed to the floor, and a feeling of satisfaction greeted me at the sight of the broken glass; and then with only my free hand I continued to make as much mess as I possibly could, throwing the duvet from the bed to the floor to join the fragments of glass.
It was uncharacteristic, the emotions I was dealing with, and with such intensity it was completely unfamiliar to me. But I had so many tangled feelings eating up my insides I needed to release them.
I sunk to the floor, knees to my chest as I almost mirrored the position I had made when first coming to realization of my captivation.
And then Harry came back in, but his expression was already distorted; his eyes wide; mouth open in shock, features hard and cold. He looked positively explosive. And that was putting it in the lightest way possible.
“What the fuck have you done?” He shouted, this time not even trying to appear calm and collected. He looked around, soaking in the messy room, piecing together what had just happened.
“F-fuck off, j-just fuck o-ff.” I stuttered through sobs, burying my head in my knees. It surprised me when he did so, and left the room without another word; but as I timidly peeked up I realized the door was left open, leading me to believe he was coming back.
And he did, carrying a bundle of rope.
“I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you today; I thought I was doing you a favour by letting you call your mum.” He spat angrily, venom rooted deeply in his icy tone. He hoisted my body up onto the bed, his movements stern and strict, not allowing me to fight back. He was enraged, but I didn’t care what he was going to do; I didn’t have the energy to care about the consequences. I couldn’t care even if I wanted to. The duvet was carelessly thrown back into place.
My body was pushed resentfully to the back of the bed, and Harry wasted no time in wrapping rope around my frame, looping it around various parts of my body and tying to tightly to the headboard; not tight enough to cut off my circulation, but tight enough to cause me more discomfort than necessary. I didn’t struggle, because I realized that now I truly had lost the fight I had within me. I merely allowed Harry to restrict my movements entirely.
“And then you go ahead and do this, twice.” He spoke through gritted teeth, jaw locked, Adam’s apple bopping as he swallowed tensely. “I’m so fucking angry with you right now, Birdy. I don’t know what to fucking do with you.” The fact that he was trying not to scream at me only made it worse.
I tried avoiding his gaze, unable to peer into his fiery eyes, darkened by the piercing, agonizing anger that he was attempting to keep at bay. He emphasized his strong point by tightening the rope on my wrists, the rough material used to restrain any movement wrapping around the wrist already handcuffed and the free wrist, arm I had used to inflict damage to the bedroom. I whimpered at the pain.
“I’ll deal with you tomorrow.” He snarled finally, the menacing, threatening edge to his dark tone enough to have to crying about whatever ‘punishment’ I knew he would have in store for me before it had even begun. Looking down at me, almost pleased with my body vulnerably captured, he gave the rope one last tug, and then left.
I sat silently for what felt like hours, the only noise coming from the tears that dripped off my cheeks; the ropes holding my body seemed to drag down on my muscles, and I could feel rope closing around my heart, squeezing painfully what was left of the remains.
And then I felt my heavy eyelids droop, eventually shutting; thinking as I drifted into blissful darkness that it would be perfectly fine if I didn’t wake up at all tomorrow.

Notes

THANK YOU ALL FOR 300+ READS SO FAR :)))
I kind of dragged this chapter out a little bit, but if he does punish her, which'll be in the next chapter, does anyone have any suggestions as to what it would be? because i wouldn't it to be really horrible or too much this early
ALSO THIS IS ANGRY HARRY
anyway, thoughts on this chapter pleaasseee! :)
ohh and i have an important question, nice harry or mean harry?:)