The Bar Owner's Daughter

Clarke Stevenson is the daughter of the owner of the popular bar in London. Ever since she was 16 she would watch a local guy, Harry Styles get drunk and get into bar fights. One night after a violent bar fight Clarke takes care of Harry. They later develop a friendship that know one seems to agree with.

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Clarke's P.O.V

*3 weeks later*

"Clarke, you gotta eat." Mum walks into my dark room. Kennedy is staying over at a friends house, so tonight it's my room again.

"I'm not hungry." I groan. This is my room. A room full of memories of Harry.

"At least get out of bed." She begs. I've been in bed for what seems like forever. I haven't really eaten, I've only taken 2 showers his week, I brush my teeth once a day, and I only drink water basically.

"Get out." I demand. Without any hesitation she leaves and in alone again.

If I close my eyes, I can still feel Harry's arms wrapped around me in this exact bed. When I loon towards the door, I can still see myself weeping and he's confuting me. When I look at the other door, I see him coming through it, angry, sad, happy, or just nothing.

Okay, I'm not one of those girls that is depressed because I don't have a guy with me. No, I'm depressed because I could've stopped my best friend from going to fucking prison for 5 fucking years. What kinda person am I.

"Clarke get up." Dad comes in the room. I just look at him and continue to do nothing.

"Go fuck yourself." I say loud enough for him to hear me clearly.

"Come on." Dad grabs me and throws me to the ground. I lay there and do nothing. I don't really care anymore. "God damn it Clarke, get up."

"No."

"I'll take you to see him." Dad crosses his arms. I instantly stand up. "Be in the car in 10 minutes." He sighs. I do my normal morning routine and make sure I look decent. When I'm ready get in the van.

Moments later I see the prison. I can't believe he can actually have visitors so soon. I also can't believe dad drove me here.

"I'll wait." He leans back. I get out and walk in.

"I'm here to see Harry styles." I say to the person at the desk. She types in his name looks up at me.

"Your Clarke Stephenson, aren't you?" She looks up at me.

"Yeah, why?" I ask.

"Whatever, come on." She guides me in a room with multiple people talking the phone with a glass separating the people from the prisoners. I sit and wait. Minutes later there he is. More muscular, longer hair, bags under his eyes, and wearing an orange jumpsuit. He sits and puts the phone to his ear.

"Hey." Harry says in his raspy deep voice. That voice, that one word. I start to tear up, making small hip up noises. "It's okay." He says.

"No." I cry. "Your in prison. It's all my fault." I shake my head.

"No it's not." He assures me. I lean my head up against the glass and sob.

"It's not fair. I lied. I should be in there, not you." I continue to cry.

"Clarke, trust me I deserve this." He runs his fingers through his oily hair.

"No!" I cry.

"I love you." He presses his large hands against the glass.

"I love you too." I press my hands against the glass too. Cheesy maybe, but I don't give a fuck.

"Come here." Harry smirks. I look down and see he's reaching his fingers under a small little place where the people and prisoners connect. I put my hands down and under the glass. Our fingers are barely touching. The thing is meant for exchanging things.

"No touching!" The guard yells at Harry. He slips his hands away.

"I'll get you out." I say.

"Clarke-"

"No, I can. I will go and tell them everything." I cross my arms.

"You'll get in trouble." He tries to convince me.

"So? I'm the one who lied, your the one that didn't do anything." I pout. Why would Harry try to convince me not to get him out.

"I've done some horrible things, and I'm making up for it now." Harry sighs.

"Yeah we've all have, but 5 years?" I look at him.

"Yeah." He shrugs.

"How, selfish." I grow angry.

"What?"

"Did you even think about the people your effecting by being in here? Me, Kennedy, Gemma? I've been a wreck lately. Kennedy has been hanging out with friends to get her mind off of things. And Gemma, think about your sister Harry!" I yell.

"Clarke-"

"I'm going to the judge tomorrow." I put the phone down and walk away.

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