Spirit of the Dismantled

(M: Contains sexual scenes, offensive language and abuse) "I can't do this anymore. Why did I put up with that crap for 14 years? Why!!?" Cynthia is sick of being abused and mistreated. She just wants out and fast. With home life getting worse by the second, she needs to escape. With nowhere to go, she is positive that all is lost until a handsome boy comes to her rescue and little does she know that she'd need him like he needs her. The similarities that they share are disarming and together they embark on a journey where it takes two to survive.


3. Chapter 3.

Cynthia's P.O.V.

I climb into the car and sink into the passenger's seat. I'm exhausted. I smell myself. Not too bad but could definitely do with a shower. The guy slides in shortly after and swiftly smooths his hair away from his forehead. Crap, I don't even know his name.

"What's your name?" I ask him just as he's starting up the truck. It splutters to life.

"Harry, Harry Styles.Yours?" he smiles warmly.

"Cynthia Bloom," I whisper. I suddenly feel all shy all of a sudden. Is it because we're in such a confined space?

"That's a beautiful name," he replies, pulling out of the car park before shooting forward.

"Sorry. The truck can be a little excited at times," he mumbles. I laugh.

"That's okay. Hey, why were you around the barn?" I ask him. A dark look crosses his face but quickly recollects himself.

"I was bored. I usually go there when I'm..looking for something to occupy my thoughts," he stutters and I can see that there's something he's hiding. I want to quiz him but decide against it.

"Why were you there?" he looks over at me impassively. I swallow.

"I prefer not to talk about it," I look out the window as the country passes by.

"Don't worry, I'm pretty good with secrets. Surely it's not that bad," he asks. There's an undercurrent to his voice as if he's already figured it out.

"I prefer not to worry others with my problems," I pull the blanket to me tighter. I can hear him scrummage around the back seat before he slings his arm back over.

"Here, throw this on," he throws a grey jumper onto my lap. I look down at it confused.

"You look like your freezing. I wouldn't forgive myself for letting you go on like that when I can help," he shrugs but he's smiling at me sadly. I tear my eyes away from his gaze and hurriedly pull the jumper over my head. It's snug and smells of..him.

"Thanks. Appreciate it," I hug myself. 

"My pleasure," he whispers before fiddling around with his little sound system. Jason Mraz fills the car. I love him.

"You into Jason Mraz?" I ask.

"Yeah, he's awesome. So real and not like other singers who feed off auto-tune," he smirks and I laugh. He is pretty funny.

"Yeah, that's true. I always thought also. He brings me comfort when needed which is a lot.." I frown at my constant babble. I don't even know him and I'm already spilling my heart out. He'll probably kick me out on the curb if he knew. He frowns when he realizes my reluctance.

"Hey, you can talk to me. It'd make me a lot more happier knowing what's going on," he reaches over as if about to touch me. I freeze. He quickly pulls his hand back and returns it to the steering wheel.

"Please don't. It'll be better if you didn't know. I-I can't say just yet," I finally manage to say. He smiles as if he understands. He wouldn't know a thing about what I go through or anything of that matter.

"That's okay but I'll just let you know now that I'm here if you wanna talk," he pats the steering wheel. I sag in relief and continue staring out the window. Exhaustion starts to consume me and before I know it, I'm fast asleep.


"Hey, we're here." I can hear Harry's voice as I reluctantly force my eyes to open. We're at a house that seems cosy. The outside light is on and we're surrounded by the forest. How lovely.

"Oh right. Sorry, didn't mean to fall asleep," I mumble, trying to force my limbs to move. He frowns.

"Why are you sorry? Don't be. This is my house. Do come in," he's holding the door and I stumble out, nearly toppling over onto the gravel. He catches me before I fall.

"Watch yourself," he snaps before standing me upright. I flush at my clumsiness.

"Sorry," my foot starts to throb but I ignore it. His expression softens.

"No, I should be the one that's sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. Just tired, that's all," he apologizes. I nod.

"Let's get you inside," he opens the back door and grabs for my bag. I notice a bottle of vodka laying beneath a sheet.

"Were you deciding on getting drunk?" I ask. He quickly closes the door, locking it and leads me inside.

"Yeah but I ain't now. You stopped me," he smiles but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. I feel a small pang of sympathy.

"Don't let me stop you. In fact, I might help myself to a few," I grin sheepishly. He looks at me with mock horror.

"Cynthia! It wouldn't be very gentleman of me to do that to you," he clutches at his heart and I laugh.

"I'm serious. It would be more than welcome." I chirp. We come up to his living room and I still. An elderly figure, most probably his mum, sits in a lone sofa with her head in her hands. The lamp beside her is lit and she looks up when she hears us approach. Harry doesn't look too happy either. She looks relieved but her expression hardens when she sees me.

"Harry sweetheart, Pete's been in a car accident. The hospital just rang up to let me know," her eyes are red-rimmed from crying and her hands tremble. Harry stiffens beside me.

"Oh mum, I'm so sorry," he whispers but he doesn't sound like he means it. In fact, he sounds glad. I awkwardly stand there as the two of them exchange a quizzical look toward each other. Probably trying to figure out who I am.

"Who's this?" his mother asks but doesn't look at me. She looks disgusted.

"It doesn't matter mum. Just go to bed. We'll sort it out tomorrow," he mutters. I feel like I've just been punched. Why should I care anyway? He probably doesn't but his mum certainly does. She doesn't look too happy.

"Okay. Yes we will son. Goodnight," she mumbles before settling herself into the sofa and soon after, she falls into a peaceful sleep. Wow, that was fast.

I look up at Harry. He seems to be deep in thought but stops when he catches me staring.

"Come, I'll show you where you can sleep," he says quickly. I'm guessing he's trying to avoid the questions.

"Sure." I reply feeling deflated. So I don't matter? I frown at this thought. He mirrors my expression but doesn't ask. We go down a long hallway and stop at the room right at the end. He points out to the bathroom and toilet along the way. Twisting the door-handle, he quietly opens the door and indicates for me to go in. I do so and gasp. It's so..clean. A double bed sits in the middle of room to my left and two bedside tables on either side. There's a wardrobe and a large window with grey colored blinds. The moonlight casts it's light onto the bed, giving it that romantic feel. I suddenly realize that I am beyond exhausted.

"Here you go. I know it's basic," he mumbles apologetically and places my bag onto the ground. I turn around and hug him, registering his shock. After a moment, he hugs me back.

"Thank you so much. This means a lot," I squeeze his neck and he smiles against my cheek.

"The pleasure's all mine," he laughs, such a beautiful laugh. I let go and jump onto the bed, savoring the soft  duvet. He stares at me, his eyes wide.

"Please don't be offended but have you not had a bed before?" he whispers, unsure of how I will react.

"No, not a bed. Just a pathetic excuse of a mattress. I wasn't allowed one." I stare down at my fingers. He sighs but pads over so that he's standing right in front of me.

"Please don't be ashamed. I won't judge, please talk to me," his voice is full of pity but there's a hint of urgency. He's eager to know and I want to tell him so, so bad but I can't. I'm not ready to open up and spill. It's too much too soon. I shake my head but look up into his beautiful green eyes. They're sincere.

"I can't. Not yet." I can feel the waterworks start to come on but hurriedly wipe away at my nose. 

"Okay. Go to sleep. You look beat. See you in the morning," he decides not to push me any further and so he walks over to the door and shuts it softly behind him. I lay back down and stare up towards the ceiling. He's been so kind to me and I have nothing to show for myself. I can't even talk to him. Maybe because I've never had to. There was never anyone to confide in. An overwhelming urge to cry settles over me like a thick blanket and I give in, sobbing quietly into the pillow until I fall once more into an exhausted sleep.

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