Hold My Hand

Maggie is abused by her step-father. Her mother died two years ago, leaving her with him. Not to mention, she is bullied at school by, the most popular kid in school, Harry Styles. When in one class, they are forced to work together, as partners, and Harry refuses to work at his house, he stumbles upon the abusing in action. When Harry realizes what she is going through, will he help her? Or just ignore it? Will they come closer through the project, or just farther apart? Find out in Hold My Hand.

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17. Denial

Chapter 17

Denial

Maggie Butler

"Maggie!" He groans.

"Here I am staring, at your perfection. In my arms, so beautiful." Adam Levine sings. 

That was my text tone. I slide my phone unlocked and I look at it. 

From: Harry

I won't give up.

That threw me over the edge. I erupt in a torrent of tears. 

"Why must you do this to me Styles?" I cry.

I look out the window. It was lightning. I thought I saw some hail as well. This weather was expressing my feelings perfectly. 

I hear a thump at the door and Harry speaks again, "Maggie please let me in. I won't talk to you I just need to get inside somewhere."

I contemplate that. 

Well if he wasn't going to bug me... Or talk to me... "He's freezing Maggie! Why won't you let him in? You still have feelings for him! But I guess that's what scares me the most." I whisper to myself.

i walk towards the door and open it. Harry's head lands with a thud on the ground next to my feet. 

"Ow." He whines, rubbing his head. 

"You're sleeping on the couch." I say, pointing towards the couch and crossing my arms over my chest. He walks towards the couch, purposely brushing his arm against mine. 

Butterflies erupt in my stomach and I immediately wanted to feel his lips against mine again. No, Maggie stay strong. You need to show him it's not always what he wants in life. Maybe, in the future I can let him in again, but just not now.

He lays on the couch and I head upstairs. I lay in bed and am immediately isolated from sleep. 

All I could think about was Harry. 

Finally, my alarm clock rings, telling me to get up. 

I crawl out of bed and walk downstairs to see Harry making breakfast. 

"What are you doing?" I ask, rubbing my eyes.

He half turns, still cooking.

"Making breakfast."

"Harry..."

"Maggie, just let me make you breakfast. It's the least I can do for you letting me stay in your house." He pleads.

"Fine. But only because I'm lazy." I say, pointing a finger at him, walking to the seat. 

I walk behind him and at the same time he turns. 

Our faces are inches apart, an she was glancing between my eyes and my lips. 

"Uh, I think you should go." I say coldly.

"Maggie I'm almost done wi-"

"Go!" I yell, throwing a stuffed bear that was sitting on the counter at him.

He looked startled then picks up the bear, setting it on the counter before walking out the door. 

I groan. 

"Why do I always push away the people I care about?" I scream at myself. "But more importantly, the ones who care about you!" 

By now I'm hitting my fists against the counter, face pressed firmly to the granite. 

Then, the tears come. And they come pouring out. 

Just then, Harry walks back in. 

I snap my head up, sniffling.

"I forgot my- what's wrong?" He asks, walking closer. 

"Nothing Harry just please leave."

He walks over to the couch, grabbing his jacket, and with one final glance, shuts the door. 

I scream again. Why can't I stop thinking about him? He was all that I cared about anymore. And I just blew it. 

I sigh, wiping my tears and walking towards the window. I watched him pull out, driving away. 

That's when I really lose it. I just lost the only person I cared about anymore. But to make it worse, I made him leave. He didn't leave by choice. Which would have made it so much easier to get over. But no I had pushed him away. I trudge over to the mantle, looking at all the pictures. There was a picture of me my mom and my step dad. There was one of me and my mom. Then, there was one on the very end, but it was the biggest, to emphasize its importance, was a picture of me and Harry. I press my lips into a thin line and squint my eyes as the tears come. I stomp my door on the ground, gliding my hand across the mantle, making all the pictures fall off of it. 

I scream and stomp over all of them. I didn't know exactly why I was acting this way. It was only a high school fling, right? I'd get over it. Right?

Once I calm down a bit, breathing heavily, I look at a picture I was standing on. 

It was a picture of me, on my first day of kindergarten, pig tails and big fat glasses. My mother was standing next to me, both of us smiling like idiots. 

I lean down, glass cracking underneath my weight, and I pick it up. 

I press it to my chest. 

"I'm so sorry mom," I cry. "You wouldn't want me to do this."

I pull it away from my chest, and kiss my mom's face on the picture. 

I set it back on the mantle and go get the broom, cleaning up. 

I look at some of the pieces of glass on the ground. 

I sink to the ground, picking one up. 

I admire it. It's sharp qualities. I then look at my scars. But at the same time remembering how much it relieved me. 

I set the glass right above my scar, contemplating. Then, I slowly cut deeper. Not too deep, just enough to penetrate. I gasp and release the glass and it clatters to the ground. I go to the bathroom and wash off the blood. 

I wrap it up in sports tape. I look at the time. 11:00. I've already missed a lot of school, what would it matter if I missed more? So I go to my bed, plug in my phone to the speakers and hit shuffle. I fall asleep to Christina Aguilera and Blake Shelton singing Just A Fool.

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