Ruby ღ

I'm not a bitch,
I'm not a slut,
I'm not a whore,
And I sure as hell ain't yours.
So go ahead and do yourself a favour:
Don't believe the rumours you hear about me.

Survival 101 - You're as good as dead if you try to get into my pants.

(Sequel to 'Red ♥')
Many thanks to: J.K Pansear (Kammy), kelsea (Briella), Musical Megster (Megan) - Love you all guys, thank you ♥ xoxo ~Patch


5. Revealing What Hurts

As soon as I yelled, Harry jumped up from the rocking chair, but tripped and toppled over. Anger was raging inside me now. Who the hell let's a girl get a tattoo of their name while she's pissed? Harry, that's who. So there he was still on the floor, looking quite startled as I just woke him up from his sleep. Oh, who gives a shit? I was reading to jump on him and strangle him when my bedroom door opened, and my brother was standing there, his eyes narrowed and angry. My brother might've loved me, and helped me out with homework when I attended school, but when he was seriously hammered, he would take it out on me. Everything; his parents death, his problems, the debts he owed his 'friends'. It hurt to see him this way, emotionally and physically. I guess you're wondering why I never used my powers to stop him. truth is, I don't really like using my power on family. Because I feel so incredibly guilty afterwards. Red would've, in a heartbeat, but now she's with Zayn she's gone soft.

"Bitch. Why the fuck is there a guy in here?!" Harry looked confused, innocent.

I miss being innocent.

The thought hit me like a ton of bricks at the same time Leon's fist came in contact with my face. I didn't scream, because I was used to this. Pain was always the result of trying to be happy. Red never listened to me when I told her that. I felt rejected, but that was nothing new. I think being silent, only made Leon angrier. Keeping my mouth shut only made me look more helpless. Leon was older than me, by four years, so he would beat me till his heart was content. But he was never content, so he kept on beating me.

This is all Harry's fault!

A voice hissed in my head, but I pushed it away. Nothing was Harry's fault. I couldn't blame him for something that happened so often.

I was so grateful at that moment that I never had any children. Because I wouldn't want them to watch their mother get beaten by their own uncle. I'd look pathetic. Harry looked like a child now. I could see him through my blood-smeared vision. But he didn't watch the torchure, like others would have. He got up, and punched Leon straight in his jaw. I heard a sickening crunch and then he fell to the floor. Despite the pain, and the sight of my brother, lying with his eyes closed on my bedroom floor, I didn't shed a tear. I've never cried. It's a Cassidy thing. Whenever disaster strikes, we steel ourselves for all the other problems that are to come. No more crying, no more trusting and no more loving.

Until now.

Harry scooped me up in his arms and laid me back down onto my bed.

"Please, don't hurt him anymore. He won't remember in the morning, so don't try then. Please, Harry. Don't."

He looked shocked that I would defend the man who hurt me. But family came first, and even thought Leon wasn't technically my brother, I felt obliged to protect him no matter what the circumstances were.

"Okay, angel. Now go to sleep."

Godess, I hadn't been pampered in so long. And it felt nice.

Methodically, Harry left the bedroom and came back in before beggining to apply some sort of lotion or cream on my face. It stung at first, but then I began to relax.

"Where did you learn that?" I said, while he tucked me in.

"Red." He muttered, kissing my forehead. I didn't want to complain. I wouldn't, because no one would want anybody who was as broken as me. And I prefered it that way. But Harry treat me like I mattered.

You don't seriously think I'm getting attatched to him, do you?

No, I'm simply enjoying the way he pampers me. I'll keep him with me for a little longer, so I can snatch a few notes from his fat little wallet, then I'm gone. Vanished.

And he won't ever see me again.

That's how I live. Constantly running.


"Morning, sunshine." Harry said sarcastically, setting a breakfast tray down on my bedside table.

"You too, curly." I muttered, sitting up. My whole body ached, but my face felt a little better.

"Why didn't you stop me from getting that tattoo?" I asked, digging into the stack of pancakes I didn't know we had.

"Because I thought it would be hilarious to see your reaction when you woke up and found it there." He said, rolling his eyes.

"I'm kidding. You ran off before I could get you into a taxi, and then I find the tattoo artist half way through the 'Y' on my name. Why my name though?" He asked, taking a swig from his bottle of water.

"How am I supposed to know? I can't communicate with the hammered version of myself! Let alone the sober one!"

I was glugging down fresh orange juice like my life depended on it, and realised I hadn't eated in about 3 days. Godess, what was my life coming to? And why, of all people, did Harry have to be the one to rescue me from drowning?



"Enjoy that?" Harry said, when I was finished.

"Fuck yeah, how did you learn to cook like that?"

He tapped the side of his nose. "It's a secret."

And with that, he opened my bedroom door and took the tray downstairs without another word my way.

I pondered for a few moments, trying to desipher the reasons for his character transplant, but came up with non whatsoever. Maybe he did it out of sypathy, or pity. The two things I hated most.

When I'm passed out underneath a bus shelter, I don't want old biddies tutting at me, or middle-aged snotty bitches tossing a few pennies at my hungover body. I just wanted to be left in peace, is that too much to ask?

Aparently so, because a few seconds later, Harry comes back in with more of the sweet-smelling cream he applied last night.

"For the big-ass mother you've got under your eye." he explained. I hardly flinched when he touched the tender spot beneath my eye, althought I wanted to yell at him to stop, chop his head off, or leap out the window onto the balcony below. The second option seemed oddly appealing.

"Right, get up, get dressed. Red came shopping with me and bought a few clothes she thought you might like."

I let out a groan. Don't get me wrong, Red had kick-ass style sence, but I'd like to put emphasis on the had. Ever since 'Zaynie' came into her life, she's automatically switched to "comfort clothes" just because he told her she looks beautiful in whatever she's wearing. Godess, it makes me want to throw up.

I looked up at Harry in the middle of thinking this, and a nasty, unwanted thought popped into my brain.

It would be nice to not have to look and act like a bitch all the time, y'know. You could be like that. With him.

I sent a trampede of prophanities over that one single thought, but it kept on coming back like a nastly, son-of-a-bitch cold that you can't get rid of.

"Harry, get out my room if I'm getting changed." I snapped, fixing the duvet on the bed.

"Yes, mistress." He mock-bowed and slipped out my room, and for no reason other than pure confusion, I grabbed his glass of orange juice, and threw it against the wall with a frustrated grunt.

Hm, I thought, it looks like I've just squished his brain and it's splattered everywhere.

Another thought overlapped that one.

Maybe I'll clean it up, just to suprise him.

"Fuck that!" I told myself, "I'm going back to sleep!"











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