Don't Tempt Me

I had everything going for me until my father died when I was 11. He tucked me in, he kissed my forehead, he gave me hugs, and he was my number one supporter. Now all I am is a bad girl. I used to be a good girl like the ones I would make fun of now. I don't care what people think of me wearing those short shorts that showed my smileys or wearing those low cut shirts that made it known that I had boobs. I hear them talking in the halls sometimes in my way to class. Comments about me weren't always bad. And there is no way in Hell my reputation could ever be turned around.

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26. Harry's house

Evelyn's POV

I walk into the warm, inviting house behind the tall, curly haired male that guided me through the quaint house hold to the kitchen. I sat down on one of his chairs and meekly started reading papers that laid upon the table. I never liked being a bother in others houses. I usually kept to myself and tried not to disturb the peace. I was whipping through the pages till Harry interrupted me, "what exactly are you reading?" He was hovering over my shoulder as I flipped another page over. It took me a second to register what the question was and frankly I could not answer because I was flipping through a bunch of nonsense that I had no clue what it meant. There was big words that I didn't understand such as auspicious, accoutrements, and idiosyncratic. I wasn't groomed and raised of a highly educated house as the rest of London. I was more of the flippantly dumb white trash that you found on the streets that would be hired and paid by the end of the night whose respect would be lost in all of a blink on an eye.

"Uhhhh....I don't know...I'm just reading words," I admit stupidly. I assumed that my intellectuality would increase in state as I grew older or as I read more but for some people as like me, it just may never happen. I wanted to go to college after high school but it all seems too unrealistic for a girl with a poor financial state family and low academic achievement level to go. I might as well stay and raise the...

Harry's POV

I watch her as she falls back into her content state of mind again. Her eyes wandering down to her scuffed up muddy shoes. As she did not reply, I read the piece of black inked white paper to myself. I've read this paper before. My mum had me reading since I could start singing my ABC's. She had me reading chapter books when I was 5 as I grew more into books and fell in love with literature, I fell in love with poetry. I started reading more poetry when I was 7 and read lyrics and music notes soon after. This piece of paper had a great deal of information and was probably one of the hardest autobiographies I've read in my life. How could she possibly understand? I think my mum told me I was 2 years older than her and this reading level was way to advanced. Through all the cacophony of words all this was saying was a women was rich with intriguingly psychotic characteristics. It tells how she proceeded through her education with great purpose and she soon later became a greatly known physiologist. I looked up from the page again to find Mel still in the exact position she was in, starring off into blank space. Her hair curtained the side if her faces so all I saw was a big clump of messy blonde hair. There were streaks here and there of brown and the lightest beach blonde I've seen. It even beat Niall's on a high note. Wait till I tell him. I saw her fingers twitch and her arm shift. Her hand scrunched up into a fist and her knuckles were blood blistered and split in the middle. There were nick marks on her wrists and cuts up her arms. There were big purple and blue bruises on her arms and legs, too. Her skin looked tainted with pain and hurt. She's been abused or so I heard from my mother. My mum could only cope with how she felt and what she could do for poor Mel by venting to me. I would put little input as it was a touchy subject for me myself and I didn't know Mel as well as she did.

"Mel what are you thinking about?"

"I don't understand."

"What don't you understand, love?"

"Huh?"

"What?"

"You called me...love?"

"Yes, love. Now tell me. What don't you understand?"

"I don't know what any of this means. I'm too stupid."

"Well I am two years above your reading level and it's an autobiography that you won't need to know about ever in an education but it is an intriguing topic."

"Can you read it to me...and explain it." She hid away but asked as serious as a person can get. I looked at the clock and skimmed the number of pages. There was pages on pages which could take a good amount of weeks to read to her. Although it is an exert from the book itself, it is a very long descriptive exert which included an abundant of challenging words.

I clasped her arm with the lightest touch as possible, hoping not to hurt her damaged wrists, and dragged her to the living area near the fire place. I sunk down in the saggy recliner chair and gesticulated to her to sit on my lap. She still was in her pjs and her butt was soaking wet still but I didn't mind. I didn't think Gemma would appreciate me giving a stranger her clothes to borrow. This is all horrible hospitality but I hope she doesn't mind. My mom will be home in a bit anyway. I flipped to the first page of all the pages and began to read aloud to the beautiful girl that sat on my lap. She made everything seem still and calm and all around perfect.

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