When Hate Turns To Love

Harry Styles is a 16-year-old Jew. He lives with his mother, Anne, and they've managed to hide from the Nazis for quite a while. But, one night, while Harry is asleep in a little side closet, a group of German soldiers come in and steal his mum away. Heartbroken, Harry packs up his few belongings and heads to Auschwitz, hoping that he'll be able to save her.

Louis Tomlinson is an 18-year-old Nazi, and he sees Jews as the scum of the earth. He's doing night patrol when he sees a curly haired boy speaking with a Jewish woman through the fence. Disgusted, he drags the Jew back to his house, planning to use him as his personal slave. But, when his friends bring over another Jew, mistreating both young boys, Louis feels protective, jealous, and guilty. What will happen when Louis' hate for Harry turns to love? Will They be able to hide it long enough to go to America? Or will it all end on a battlefield?

9Likes
14Comments
1934Views
AA

4. Chapter 4

*Louis*

 
"W-what are you going to do to me?," the Jew whispers, for about the millionth time. "P-please t-t-tell me?"
 
I roll my eyes in frustration, slowly pulling into the lot in front of my house. Twisting to my left, I glare into his fearful green eyes, reaching out to grab his arm. He cringes away, but I'm quick, getting a surely bruising grip on him.
 
"I'm going to lock you in the spare room, and leave you there for a while."
 
He visibly relaxes, releived thatI'm not forcing him to do... things against his will. A small gasp falls from his lips when I get out, pulling his lanky form over my shoulder.
 
A small part of me wonders how old he is. I'm 18, and even though his figure tells me he's older, his doe eyes and shy demeanor scream otherwise. He makes me, a trained Nazi and killer, look scrawny and pathetic! After kicking my front door open, I start struggling upstairs to the second floor, the trip taking double its normal time.
 
"Gah," I say after clipping his head on the wall multiple times. "Why do you have to be so... disproportionally large?"
 
"I dunno..."
 
After finally reaching the only spare bedroom with a metal headboard, I throw him down and tie his wrists above his head with some rope I found under the bed. Pausing at the door, I turn back, meeting gazes with him.
 
"What was your name again?"
 
"Name's Harold," he whispers, shifting uncomfortably at the tight ropes bonding him to the headboard.
 
Nodding, I close the door and lock it, tucking the key safely on top of the door frame. Once I'm certain it won't fall, I head to my room to slip into some loose trousers and an overly-large shirt. I then continue to tidy up, humming softly as I work.
 
"So, tell me, did you sail across the sun? Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded, and that Heaven is overrated," I sing, dancing carefully as I pick up the clothes that litter my floor. "Tell me, did you fall from a shooting star? One without a permanent scar. And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?"
 
As I fix the blankets on my bed, I do a little spin, stopping in my tracks as I hear a voice that I thought I'd never hear again.
 
"Now that she's back from that soul vacation, tracing her way through the constellation, hey, hey, hey. She checks out Mozart while she does Tae-Bo. Reminds me that there's room to grow, hey, hey, hey..."
 
The timid voice stops, and I whirl around, a huge grin lighting my face when I see her. Her hair is just a bit longer than I remember, but her brown eyes sparkle with the same happy glow.

"Ashton!"
 
"Louis!," she exclaims, her laugh flying through the air.
 
I run forward, embracing her in a bone-crushing hug. The room seems suddenly bright, as if her presence made the sun happy.
 
"I missed you, Sister," I whisper into her shoulder, tears slowly leaking out of my eyes.
 
Her arms tighten around my neck as she mutters her reply, but it's so quiet, as if she's far away. As I stand the clining to my long-lost "sibling", the light in the room suddenly dims, causing me to open my eyes. My arms are wrapped around empty air, and my room is extrememly dim and dreary.
 
"Ashton?," I sob, falling to my knees and sobbing against my bed, and my heart aches at the cruel reminder of the friend that I had lost.
 
*3rd Person*
 
A tall, dark-skinned man walks into a cafe, his hands smoothing snow out of his black hair. Removing his coat and laying it across the back of a chair, he strides up to the counter, flashing a smile to the girl standing there. She blushes, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
 
"Good afternoon, Sir. My name is Jessica, may I take your order?," she says flirtily.

"You too," he responds, pulling change out of his pocket. "I'll have a mug of tea, little cream, two sugar cubes, thank you." 

The girl nods, biting her lip as she pours his tea, making sure her hand brushes his as she gives him the beverage. Untroubled by her obvious flirting, the man simply takes his drink and sits at the table where he dropped his coat, watching the various people who enter the shop. As he finishes the tea and begins preparing to leave, a spat at the counter catches his attention.
 
"I just told you! I wouldn't care if you were the head general of Hitler's army, I'm not giving you hot chocolate without enough money!," Jessica yells at a hazel-eyed girl.
 
"But, I-"
 
"No! Get out!"
 
The man strides over, slamming a few pounds on the counter and grabbing Jessica's arm.
 
"I'll pay for it, now get her the drink," he demands, his Bradford accent laced with annoyance. "And stop flirting. You aren't my type."
 
His comment deflates the girl's ego, and she turns to get the hot chocolate. The man turns to the hazel-eyed woman, offering a kind smile. She returns it, a light blush painting her cheeks. 
 
"Thank you," she whispers. "I don't know how I'll be able to pay you back. I don't have a job yet, but I'll get one, and then I'll get the money to you someh-"
 
"Stop. It's okay. I have plenty of money to spare, really."
 
He smiles at her, offering his hand.
 
"Zayn Malik," he introduces, bending at the waist to bring her hand to his lips.
 
"Ashton Nicole," she responds, a smile spreading on her face. "You're quite old-fashioned, aren't you?"
 
He just nods, chuckling, but their sweet moment is soon interrupted by a shower of scalding chocolate pouring onto Ashton's head. She cries out in pain, and Zayn turns to find Jessica with a sick smile on her face.
 
"Oops?," she offers, snickering as she watches Ashton wince at the temperature of the beverage soaking her clothes. 
 
Zayn just shakes his head, leading Ashton to his table and removing her dripping coat, replacing it with his own. Guiding her outside, he makes sure to slam the door behind them. Ashton shivers at the sudden cold, chilling her burning skin at an extremely fast rate.
 
"C'mon, I'll take you to my house. I have some clothes you can wear and hot chocolate there."
 
He then proceeds to wrap his arm around her shoulders, striding on their way.
 
(A/N: Hope you guys liked it. Sorry it took so long. But, one thing you guys need to understand, is that I'll update on my own time. I've recieved some rude messages on Kik and my profile, telling me how I'm an awful writer because I never update, and that I'm a horrible person, and that I should just stop. And, it hurts knowing that people would say those things to someone they didn't even know. You want to know the reason that I haven't updated in a while? It's because it's never good enough. I never feel like what I write is good enough to put up. You see, I'm OCD and atelephobic. What is atelephobia, you ask? It's the fear of never being good enough. And, when my readers insult me, it just makes me feel worse. At one point this week, I actually considered stopping my stories and giving up my dream of writing. Because I know that what I'm giving you guys isn't enough! This chapter isn't near long enough to make up for how long you guys have waited. To those of you that have waited patiently for this, I thank you. I love you, I really do. And to those who insulted me, you should feel ashamed. I would never bash on you for not updating. It's rude. Anyway, that's pretty much all. Can you tell me what you thought of the chapter? And, if you have any questions, I'll gladly answer them.)
 
P.S. You guys should thank Ashton. Without her, this chapter never would have been written. Yeah, she exists. :P ;)
 
Love you!

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...