Little Brid

He came into my life like lightning, a bright bolt uninvited; turning my world upside down with his irrational actions and dimpled grin, his unquenchable desire and eyes the colour of emeralds. And he gave me something I had never had before – a wild adventure and the illusion of freedom. But even then, I had to keep reminding myself, even once falling into the vortex of churning emotions ultimately I had surrendered myself to, that I had no choice.

I was his Little Bird; encaged in his hold.


“I know enough about you to know that you’d be going home to an empty house, but even when they’re away, they keep you caged up, don’t they Little Bird?” A deep frown creased my brow, worry and confusion and terror leaking into my nerves, an accumulation of varied emotions attacking my senses, sending my mind into a whirlwind of commotion and chaos. I parted my lips to allow the questions and accusations spill, run wild. I wanted to reveal my disgust and curiosity in countless queries as


6. Chapter 6

Harry came back down not long after Louis and I had finished our chat, if you wanted to call it that. I really didn’t know what to say to him, Louis’ words playing on my mind, sending it into a whirlwind of contracting questions that had my brow crinkled slightly and lips pouted a little in concentration. I couldn’t even look at him, eyes avoiding his dangerous green eyes that always managed to capture me even more so than usual. I questioned my own feelings towards the newfound information; and my reaction that confused me all the more.

I found myself feeling sorry for my captor, and that frightened me beyond belief – but either way I couldn’t control my feelings, I couldn’t help the sympathy I felt dealt with, knowing that surely there must have been a reason, a terrible and maybe heart wrenching reason as to why Harry had chosen ‘all the wrong paths’ and purposely caught himself in trouble, allowing himself to get in a bad way, such a bad way he thought kidnapping was acceptable. And then the thought of Harry being involved, maybe not a part of but still involved with a gang definitely didn’t ease the fear that corrupted my wellbeing, just in his mere presence something that had me on edge.

Harry was dangerous, dangerous and irrational and selfish and only 18 year old boy that had already sabotaged his and my own future. And I felt sorry for him.

 “Hey Harry, I text Zayn and told him to come over. He wanted to meet Birdy, too.” My ears perked up a little at the mention of my name, but I barely acknowledged it, doing something that I hated but always seemed to do. Over-think.

It didn’t help that our conversation ended on Louis seemingly genuine words in that Harry just wanted to take care of me. All he wanted to do was take care of me. Though surely kidnapping me, holding me against my will, frightening me beyond belief, taking me away from my family, sabotaging my future and forcing me to endure an abundance of conflicting, confusing emotions surely didn’t help in convincing me to believe that. If he cared about me, then why wouldn’t he set me free, like promising to do so on the very first night of falling into the obsidian depths of his emerald eyes?

I hated confusion; and I hated thinking; and I hated not being able to understand Harry or his actions.

 “Birdy, will you come upstairs for a minute?” I stared at the laminate floor, mind so loud I failed to hear the voices around me, only the thoughts in my head.

 “Birdy.” I blinked, head snapping up to Harry. His brow was creased as he looked down at me. “Upstairs,” he said simply, gesturing with his head for me to get up and come to him.

I stood from the couch silently, eyes briefly flicking up to meet Harry’s, before back down to the floor at the sight of his lips set into a straight line and hard features.

I sat on the palms of my hands on the bed awkwardly as he stood in front of me; my head hung, eyes beneath me.

 “I think we need to go over a few things.” He began simply, his words fuelling to the anxious feeling loitering in the pit of my stomach. Timidly I peeked up at him, waiting for him to continue. “It’s been two days and you’re already meeting two of my friends, but I haven’t gone over any rules with you yet.”

I gulped, eyes falling back to the floor.

I didn’t know whether he purposely treated me like a child, or if he did it subconsciously.  

 “I don’t want you being frightened of me. I want you to be comfortable here, but I expect you to respect me.” For supposedly not wanting me to feel frightened of him he wasn’t doing a very good job at helping me remain calm, not even remotely comfortable. Of course I didn’t speak my thoughts.

I was no stranger to ‘rules’, my parents stricter than the average meaning regulations and guidelines set down to ensure I didn’t take the smallest step out of line. I didn’t like them, in fact, I despised them, but as I was constantly chastised, I had no backbone. I couldn’t stand up for myself.

I imagined that this time would be no different, a thought that immediately made my eyes burn. I was hardly the strongest person ever, far from it but I refused to allow Harry to see me cry yet again, especially over something to little.

 “Don’t disobey me, Birdy. It’ll be easier for the both of us if you do as I say.”

I frowned at the floor.

 “Don’t even bother trying to escape. If you run away I’ll find you, and when I do you’ll be in a hell of a lot of trouble.”

That unnerved me.

 “Don’t make me angry, because I guarantee I won’t be responsible for my actions when I’m angry.”

And that just downright terrified me. For a brief moment I thought back to what Louis said not long ago, sometimes his anger just get’s the better of him. If I knew one thing for sure it was that I most definitely did not want to be on the receiving end of Harry’s anger; the deep crease in his brow, the unmistakable darkness to his orbs and the tall frame that towered over me with great intimidation enough to have my petite body retreating like a cowardly kitten. I had never been able to cope with being on the receiving end of anger before, no matter who delivered it. I hated confrontation, and I hated arguments.

I wanted to ask what would happen if I didn’t obey him and follow his rules, but I knew better than that, and my lack of confidence disallowed me to do so. But it didn’t matter, because it was as if Harry had read my mind. “If you break the rules, I’ll have to punish you.” He finished simply, not a single trace of regret underlining his husky voice, his quiet but firm tone. I kept my eyes glued to the floor, having my gaze strayed during Harry talking, now planted on the floor and the floor only; unable to latch my terrified blue orbs on his fierce emeralds.

 I had no time to register his socked feet advancing forward, because as they came into my line of vision, standing before me; my attention was diverted when Harry’s long fingers gently caught hold of my chin. Immediately I flinched away from him, my instinctive and non-negationable response to pull my head back, fearfully withdrawing from his touch.

I peeked up at him beneath my long eyelashes to note the crease in his brow, mainly confusion coating his features. I bit my lip.

 “Do you understand?” He asked me quietly, placing the same hand on my knee – only this time I didn’t flinch, merely looked at it for a moment, then back up to Harry. I nodded my head, wanting desperately to flee from the awkward situation. I would take another talk with Louis which could possibly result in fear and sympathy rather than endure what I currently was.

 “Good girl.”

Harry offered me a small smile, “C’mon then, Zayn won’t be long.”




 “What’s your drink, Birdy?” Louis asked cheerfully, pouring himself his own.

 “Urm, I have some orange juice in the fridge – from earlier,” I answered quietly, confused when his smile broke out into a much larger grin, and he shook his head a little.

 “I mean alcohol.” He said amused.

 “Oh,” I mumbled, red faced, “I don’t know, I’ve never drank before.” I admitted honestly, my shoulders forming a small shrug. His features wore a shocked expression, eyebrows raised, and lips slightly agape as he didn’t bother trying to conceal his genuine surprise. He abandoned the drinks on the kitchen side, turning his attention to me. “You’ve neverdrank before?”

 “Well, my Granddad let me have a few sips of his beer once, but I can’t really remember what it tasted like.”

 “But you’re 16, right? Haven’t you gone to parties to drink?” His eyebrows scrunched together.

 “Wasn’t allowed,” I told him sheepishly.

 “Oh Birdy,” he began walking towards me and slung an arm over my shoulder. “I have a lot to teach you.” He pointed with his eyes towards the assembly of bottles and cans near the fridge and presumably in the fridge, multiple brands and colours and shapes staring back at me. I was far from experienced in drinking, but it seemed like a lot considering only two of Harry’s friends had joined is. “Choose your drink.” He grinned.

 “Birdy’s not drinking.” Harry said simply, just entering the kitchen, catching the end of the conversation to immediately shoot Louis down and order me around some more, but Louis was quick to retaliate – always having an answer or comeback or argument ready.

 “Birdy’s drinking because she’s never really drank before and she needs to loosen up a bit.” Louis removed his arm from my shoulder and grasped a beer from the side, thrusting it in Harry’s direction, who reluctantly accepted it. “As do you, so crack open a can and calm down.” He didn’t say it in a mean or malicious way, but happily and cheerfully.

 “So Birdy, what’ll you have?” Harry glared at me, lips pursed and expression challenging. His eyes narrowed knowing that I was actually considering disobeying him, but my eyes left him and his solemn features. I felt annoyed that I didn’t have a say in drinking, even if the idea hadn’t particularly appealed to me, Harry had decided to take even this small choice away from me. And I felt an unfamiliar, odd defiant need to disobey him, purposely defy what he wanted for a change, despite the rules that Harry had set in place for me not long ago. I felt a disregard for the rule of no disobeying him; maybe some alcohol would ease the conflicting thoughts clashing and colliding inside my head. I wanted peace, to let go of some worries for just a little while.

I looked up at Louis, who was either oblivious or just purposely ignoring Harry’s thunderous expression, and I smiled slightly. “I’ll have whatever’s strongest.”




And I did have whatever was strongest; whatever it was I didn’t ask, didn’t really care. Much to Harry’s annoyance, Louis poured a drink for me and not even glancing Harry’s way, I consumed the bitter liquid, trying to tell myself that it tasted better because it was against Harry’s wishes. It didn’t really, but I wouldn’t let him know that. The gesture was small but it didn’t matter, either way I was feeling a tiny bit smug that I wasn’t listening to Harry and that he couldn’t do anything about it, because there were currently two other people in his living room, and I believed, or rather hoped he wouldn’t do anything in their presence.

The three friends conducted conversation around me, and it surprised me to discover that Harry was acting… normal. He had kidnapped me; therefore leading me to believe that no, he wasn’t actually remotely sane, but he was laughing and joking with his friends, who were also normal, and if any random person walked in they’d be none the wiser to the actual situation I was in, oblivious to Harry’s actions. I listened, vaguely, but mainly I focused on consuming my drink, fascinated by the feeling I received the more alcohol I put into my system, both my mind and body doing what Louis had intended and ‘loosening up.’


 “Did you know what hippo’s milk is pink?” I questioned, “Like I’m not even joking, this is a fact, I’m being honest.” I looked around, eyes wandering to the three boys, their facial expressions a mixture of confused and amused. I bit my lip to stifle the giggle that tried escaping for no apparent reason.

 “Goggle it, I’m not making this up.”

Louis took a large swig of his drink, a goofy smile painted across his lips. He hadn’t held back on the alcohol intake either, but in fact had been insisting on topping my drink up all night. “Tell me another.”

I racked my moderately hazy mind for another random fact I knew of. “Cows have best friends and when they get separated they get stressed – that, that’s why they always travel in, like pairs.” My words were slurred a little, and I had no idea why I had suddenly voiced the random fact. I wasn’t thinking about what I was saying, or why, or that I was currently consuming the most amount of alcohol I ever had in the presence of my kidnapper along with two of his friends I had met that day.

 “Oh! And like 80% of woman or something along those lines would rather have chocolate than sex.”

 “This can’t be right, are you sure it’s not chocolate then sex?” Zayn piped up.

 “Nope – I am being deadly serious when I say: I shit you not.”

 “Language.” Harry abruptly spoke up from beside me, a warning to his tone that I chose not to acknowledge in the slightest. He’d had one or two beers as far as I knew, but he must’ve chosen not to drink, maybe he was worried he’d get too drunk and then I’d escape, his disoriented state giving him a disadvantage. Though he needn’t worry, because I’d drank far more than him anyway and I imagine even drunk Harry would’ve been able to catch sober me.

 “English,” I replied, “Gosh, you kidnap me and you don’t even know my nationality? Pshh, amateur – didn’t you do you research?” I took another sip of my drink, the strong taste that earlier had practically stabbed at my taste-buds now nothing in comparison.

 “Alright. You’ve had enough.” Harry said, reaching towards me, one hand grasping my bottle as he took it from me, my grip unintentionally loosening and enabling him to do so. I stared at him, a frown embedded in my brow as he placed the bottle on the cupboard beside him far from my reach; my eyes began to water, filling with tears as my bottom lip trembled at the sudden absence.

His expression immediately softened at my distress as my emotions ran wild due to the unfamiliar amount of alcohol in my system. I’d never been even remotely close to drunk before but it seemed I had trouble keeping my emotions in check when I was. Tears began falling onto my cheeks, I hadn’t even considered why I was crying, it just seemed like the only thing to do.

Questions rang in my ears, three different voices asking what was wrong. Harry moved from his position on the couch, kneeling down before me; confusion and concern coating his features. “Birdy,” he repeated, “What’s wrong?”

My small hands covered my eyes for a few moments as I released a little cry, before rubbing at my wet cheeks as I looked at Harry, watery blue eyes latching on his bright green ones.

 “I never get to do what I want,” I mumbled miserably, “I never get a say in anything.”

Harry’s lips emitted a long sigh. “I’m taking her to bed.” He spoke to his friends, but his eyes didn’t stray from mine. “Come on Birdy.”

 “But I’m not tired,” I lied like a small child. His lips were sealed as his arms wrapped around my waist, lifting me up and resting me on his hips. One hand cradled my back and the other under my bum for support; and my instinctive reaction was to drape my arms around his shoulders, fingers interlocking at his back as my head found purchase on his chest. I didn’t think to pull away and neglect his touch, merely allowed my tears to fall onto his t-shirt as he held me close.

 “Nice meeting you, Birdy!”

 “Yeah, nice meetin’ you,”

 I mumbled an incoherent goodbye in response against Harry’s chest as he began carrying me out the room and up the stairs.


I knew I shouldn’t have let you drink.” Harry mumbled, more to himself than me as he placed my body on ‘my’ bed; his brow crinkled and concerned green eyes roaming my unguarded features as I continued to cry. I had started off crying about the tiniest thing, and continued to cry about everything else that was wrong. “Birdy, why are you crying?” He asked softly, and I cried harder in response.

 “When is it my turn to be happy?” I questioned sadly, knowing that I would receive no reply, not knowing whether I even wanted an answer anyway. “Why aren’t I allowed to be happy – ever?” I stared at Harry, my eyes still watering, tears dripping onto my cheeks and expression one of pure desperation as I pleaded for the answer I knew I would never get; the answers Harry couldn’t give me. He didn’t know me, why was I asking him?

 “What do you mean?” He asked quietly, gently.

 “I can’t remember – I can’t, I can’t remember what it’s like to be happy, y’know, truly happy. I’m sad all the time, and it sucks because I used to be so happy and, and now I’m just not. I haven’t been for a while and there’s nothing I can do about it.

 “Everything’s too much, life’s too much. I can’t handle anything anymore, I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” I was aware of what I was saying/slurring, but barely able to string my thoughts into coherent sentences. I was tired and drunk and emotional and everything I had been bottling up was spilling profusely from my lips; the feelings that I had been battling with for a while falling into the hands of harry.

Out of all the people I could have ever confessed my secretive thoughts to, I waited ‘till now and told Harry. I blamed the alcohol and my fairly drunken state, knowing that if I was in the right mind I would never have told anyone, least of all my kidnapper.

And it was funny, because excluding the severe case of unfortunate word vomit I had at one point suffered from, this was the most I’d ever said to Harry during the two days he had taken me.

 “And then, then this happens, and I just – God I’m just really, really confused and I keep thinking over everything and I don’t get it. I don’t get w-what you want from me, it’s not like I’m any use. I-I don’t know anything.”

I wiped hastily at the torrents of tears streaming down my flustered cheeks; positively annoyed at myself for crying in front of Harry yet again, when I’d told myself not to, but I made no attempts to suppress the sobs bursting up my throat.

 “Why is it so hard for you to accept that there’s no hidden motive behind my actions? Why is it so hard for you to understand that I want you? Just you. Only you.”

I stared at his soft features that I hadn’t seen much of before, and in my disoriented state I pondered over my response. And in that time I realized how handsome Harry actually was; granted he did most certainly not fit the stereotypical image of what I believed a kidnapper looked like. Hs lips were bubblegum pink, lump and full and oddly soft-looking; skin not pale but not particularly tanned either, and not flaw free, but with the occasional blemish, but it was okay because it made him look real as opposed to the rest of him that could just as well of been photo-shopped. His nose was normal, not too big nor too small, but his eyes were something else; the very first thing that had caused me to fall into his trap, deep and captivating, sparkling and glistening just like emeralds should.

It was impossible someone like him could want someone like me.

 “Because no-one’s ever wanted me before, let alone a complete stranger who would go to such lengths to have me – I just, I don’t understand why you want me,” I mumbled confusedly and honestly.

Harry sighed lightly, without another word wrapping his arms around my small frame, tucking my head safely under his chin. “Do you always shun the things you don’t understand?” He muttered. I didn’t answer, because I didn’t know the answer, and I was worried it may be yes. Instead I welcomed the hug and the explicable warmth it brought, my tears eventually subsiding and worries fading away.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the exhaustion or maybe it was Harry’s secure embrace; but either way, that night I fell asleep in my kidnapper’s arms.


I know I don't always reply to your comments but that doesn't mean I don't read them. (: Thank you

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