Trust Me

When an independent girl is faced with the demanding task of solely raising her young sister while maintaining her fast-paced, hectic life, she barely manages to glue things together. She suddenly crashes into a man that can either make or break her situation, depending on one imperative thing: trust. Can she pull enough trust together to save both her and her sister, or will things tumble down from above, engulfing her in the shattered pieces once again? Is this an escape to recovery or just another all-too fresh wound in life?


2. Chapter Two

A/N: More comments get you more updates.

***Harry's POV***

There I was, in Liam's house, playing truth or dare like we were all kids again. It was kind of a humorous situation, really, the whole idea of the childish game. I was okay with it though; it was actually turning out to be of some fun.


    Anyways, the game had been going for a few minutes, and I was now being dared by Liam. Of course, I picked Dare; I always pick dare, for obvious reasons of not wanting any truths against me, and because I was a more dare-ish person anyways.


    He thought for a few minutes, making me rethink my decision with every minute that passed.


 What could he be thinking of? He doesn't usually take this long to contemplate, does he? Maybe this was a bad idea... 


A feeling of dread churned in my stomach.


Then again, what's the worst he could come up with?


    My thoughts were ceased by Liam's proud announcement. 


    "I know!"


    I took one glance at his evil grin and cringed.


     Oh, no. I'm in for it. I don't think I want to kno—



    "You know the girl next door?" he eagerly interrupted.




 Where is he going with this? I know there is a teenage girl that lives down the street from us, but we never talk to her—like, just conversation wise; we barely even talk to her in the sense of awkward moments where you lock yourself out of the house and have to use the loo really bad. I'm unsure of what she even looks like.


    It was sort of like people you don't know; they are there, but you never really brother to talk to them or get to know them. It's not like you don't on purpose or that you intentionally avoid them; it just sort of happens.


 It's not fair, really, now that I think about it. She's been between us all for years now, and we've never gotten to know her, or any of her family, for that matter. I guess we never thought about it, the whole idea of knowing her as a person. Wow, how could we be so not thoughtful?


Regret joined the anguish in churning pit. It was regret of not being being sensitive, not being kind, not being there.


    "I dare you to invite her over here."


Pop! my bubble that I hadn't even known was there burst.


It was supposed to be a disaster; every inch of my body was supposed to be embarrassed, upset, angry even--yet the sensation that engulfed me was different: it was relief.


A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.


    "Invite the girl next door over," he stated once again.


Perhaps my joy confused him. Yes, that was it; I was being confusing.


    "We haven't even talked to her; she doesn't know us!" I was supposed to protest in agony.


I didn't. Instead, I stood up.


Everyone looked mystified by my actions as I pulled my leather jacket on and zipped it up. It was cold outside; I knew I shouldn't go without a jacket at least, and I wanted to look halfway presentable. (We were all sort of in our pajamas; nobody thought we would be doing anything. I was wearing a white shirt, and, thankfully, I hadn't removed my pants yet; I wasn't in just boxer shorts.)


    "What you doing, mate?" Niall asked, obviously trying to understand the situation. 


    "Going to ask the neighbor if she wants to come over." I answered proudly with a grin.


    I didn't pay attention to a response; I just stepped outside into the chilled, brisk air of, what was almost, winter.


    The sidewalk was covered in snow as my feet acted as a snow plow, pushing away the thick, white substance in their path. 


    We all had houses lined up on this one road. On both sides of the road were houses, of course, and woods behind them. It was almost as if they cut a pathway in the woods just to make a row of houses.


    I stared down at the snow and wondered to myself, This is my chance to make it up to her. All of those years that I seemed like I didn't care about her will be erased by this one simple gesture.


She'll be careful of me at first, of course, asking why I'm here with a sudden interest in her, but I'll quickly explain how I simply forgot to be hospitable. She'll laugh, and I'll chuckle along with her. She will agree to come over and then we'll get to know each other with the boys and things will be mended.


    I thought about that for a minute.


 Mended. I wounded her. 


I was absolutely positive of it: I did it.


I caused pain, I realized, and pain doesn't automatically cease. People don't forgive easily; this will take time. 


I swallowed hard at the reality I was now facing.


She will glare at me in disappointment that I ignored her for so long. She will rage at me for being the jerk that I was. She will slam the door on me in disgust. She will do anything but welcome me with open arms--and I deserve it.


    I didn't give myself the chance to think up anything more before I arrived at the bottom of her stairs.


    She had this long sort of stairway that twisted itself behind the garden that I never noticed was there before. Well, actually, the garden was just a patch of useless dirt right now, seeing as how it was almost winter. I couldn't help myself but to wonder what it might have consisted of—roses, maybe. Who knows now? 


    I starred up at the cute, little house and realized it looked comfortable with it's blue outlining on windows and white exterior. 


    I smiled at that; I always loved comfortable houses.


    My foot made it's way up the old-looking wood of the stairs, creaking noises with each step. 


    Finally, I was on her porch. I knocked on the door and waited.


    Upon waiting, I noticed the welcome mat. Tattered and rigged as it was, you could still see the words "Welcome to our lovely home."on it. I smiled. The condition the mat was in didn't really matter much to me; it was the words on it that did. I decided that I liked the mat; as pathetic as that was, it gave me hope that, just maybe, this wouldn't completely blow up in my face.


    The door soon opened a slit and a girl transpired from the other side.


    I snapped my head back up from where my eyes were so focused on the rug.


    I looked at up her and saw her soft honey hair first. She looked perfect even though she was in a towel and her hair was wet from the shower she had probably just taken—which I interrupted.


 Oops. Note to self: Don't interrupt a girl's shower—ever. Also, she looks so beautiful. I can't believe I never took note of it. The way her damp hair falls down in front of her—Stop, stop, stop. Why am doing this? I don't know her; I need to knock it off.


    I saw her eyes next. They were beautiful and blue like an ocean. I would volunteer to drown in that ocean, and I would be proud to do so. Just drowning in that gorges water would mean complete happiness, a perfect way to die. 


    Her eyes are just so smooth; they mak—No, I'm acting wrong.


    I stopped thinking of how I wanted to drown in her and focused back on those eyes of hers. Once I really analyzed them, I saw something in them.


    What is that? Fear? Is she scared? Why would she be scared of me? I mean, I know that we haven't talked, but I can assure her that I am not an ax murderer. 


Am I even why she's scared? Am I that intimidating? I know that the magazines portray me as a very bold person, to put it kindly, but did she even know about me? For some reason, I highly doubt it. 


 I think I remember her. Something about her tells me I do. What is that something? I don't know... Maybe I don't remember her; I just think I do, and the thought is really convincing.


    I was whisked out of my daydreams by her starring at me intensely like I had food on my mouth or I was a purple space alien or something. It was more like the first one; it didn't seem surprised, but more friendly and humorous—as friendly as you could be with a random dude on your porch, that is.


 Does she recognize me too? Maybe, maybe not... I can't tell. 


    I stood there a few more seconds before I could unclog my brain and remind myself the cause for my appearance.


"Would you like to come over to my house?" I asked, finally getting to why I came.


    She hesitated for a moment, biting her lip in thought as she starred at the ground. She was probably thinking why her neighbor, who never said a word to her before, was suddenly inviting her over to his house. I couldn't blame her; I would do the same thing. 


The undecipherable look on her face grew stronger. 


 Yes, I decided, it is fear. Why would she be so scarred? 


    Finally, I realized, she stepped out the rigid door frame beside me onto the porch. 


    "Shall we go?" I inquired politely, gaining a slight nod. "Alright then."


    I reached out for her hand, and she jumped slightly in surprise, taking a step back.


 What? What did I do?    


    "Wouldn't you like to hold hands? It'll make it much easier to cross the snow that way."


    She glanced at me for a moment, contemplating, before gingerly taking my hand. 


    I shut her door, and we made our way across my foot-printed path that I had created on my voyage over here.


    A few seconds passed, then her teeth chattered, snapping me into the reality that she was only dressed in a towel—with no coat! Her arms were crossed and she was looking away from me, blushing profusely.


     She's probably embarrassed to only have a towel on. It's fine though; I am the reason she doesn't! 


    "Shouldn't we get you a coat?!" I exclaim after the realization slaps me in the face.


    She just shook her head.


    "You must to freezing though!"


    She avoided my eye contact, blushing harder by the second. At this point, I wasn't sure if it was the coldness doing it or embarrassment. 


    I can see this isn't going to go anywhere. I better just—


    I ripped my coat off my own body and placed it over her shoulders. She tried to refuse and give it back, but I disabled that possibility by not releasing my hands from her shoulders.


    "You need it," I commanded her with an edge of purposeful sharpness in my voice.


    She let out a breath and nodded.




    On our walk, I couldn't help but to sneak glances at her. She was just so beautiful that how could I contain it? I couldn't.


 For goodness sake, all that's covering her is a towel; someone help me! 


    Once, I caught her glancing back at me though. I grinned cheeklily.


"Did you like my pajamas?"


    She grinned back, studying her pink slippers she had slipped on before. 


    "Aww... Don't you act so—Crud!"


    I was cut off when she tripped over a random branch sticking out of the ground and collapsed.


    "Are you alright?"


    I crouched down beside her and looked into her eyes. She avoided me again, looking in the opposite direction.


    Why doesn't she look at me? 


    Out of nowhere, a thought popped into my head, one that never occurred to me before. 


    Why did see say 'yes'? Why bother with me? Why--


Alas, there was no time for thought or situation review; she jumped to her feet in panic.


    "What? What's wrong, love? Are you okay?" I sputtered out to where the words ran together in a barely--if at all--coherent sentence once I distinguished her heavy breathing.


    Her head shook 'no' rapidly multiply times as she death-gripped my arm. That's when I noticed it: the blood streaming down from her dreadful-looking knee. My face lit up with concern and worry immediately.


    "Your leg! We have to bandage it up. You must have scraped it on a rock or something."


    (There were often branches that strayed from the trees and into the pathway this time of year, so it wasn't a surprise if her skin her been penetrated from one of the jagged edges of a branch.)


    She darted her eyes at me and I registered that something had happened; it grew; the fear had now increased to where she now was terrified. 


    Her head spun around once more, looking for something, a distant point in the woods, before she turned to me, pushing me along roughly. I took a hint and started walking faster. Nevertheless, that wasn't good enough for her as she began to sprint in the frigid air as it whisked her hair into every which direction.    I followed suit.


Questions such as, Why are we running? What's going on? What's wrong? drowned me.


    She kept glancing back and forth from the point beyond the houses to me. Each time only seemed to swell her trepidation. 


I couldn't help my sudden urging, yet I wanted to help her, to tranquilize her, if only for a few moments. Not with a dart that you shot at people to make them go numb or anything, more as to conciliate her, to sooth her anxiousness. Even so, there was nothing I could do to help the situation; she was petrified: simple.


    We shortly arrived at the front porch of my house (a reddish color with white outlining, it was colored).


    I gazed up at her to see her breathing never let up. It hadn't. She was peering at the door expectantly. I knew she wanted to burst through right that moment, although I couldn't help but to block the doorway with my back against the door and halt her.


 I need answers, and I want them quick. I can't help it any longer.


    "What was that?" I commanded bluntly.


    Once again, she didn't say anything. 


    All at once, I realized in our haste, the jacket fell off, and her once white towel was now soaked in dark blood at the edge. I gulped nervously. It was too late; her knees gave out and she started to sink to the ground.


 Okay, forget questions!


    I launched forwards and grabbed her, setting her unconscious body gently in my lap.


    Crud it! Why do we come in contact with everything bad?! First, Niall faints; now, this?! Okay, okay. Keep yourself together, Harry. It's cold out here; I should get her inside, warm.


    I banged my fist against the door probably loud enough to be heard from Japan.


    "LADS, OPEN THE DOOR NOW!!!" I shouted at the top of my lungs.


    It took less than a minute for them to comply, the door swinging open to reveal everyone, smiles all fading one by one as the horrific sight clicks together in their brains.


    Liam was the first to snap out of the shock, ordering, "Get her in here quickly! Let's get her warmed up! Come on; let's go! There will be time for explanations later!"


    With that, everyone sprang into action.




    Eleanor calls, "I'll get some decent clothes while, Harry, you lie her down on the couch. Louis, love, you grab blankets, and Liam, um..."


    "I'll get some water or something as well as another towel to quit the bleeding," he suggests.



    Everyone sprints off in opposite directions. I see Eleanor run towards her car (most likely having clothes in there). Meanwhile, Louis and Liam race to the cabinet where we kept the blanket, cloths, towels, ect.. I do my job and do to the couch, which Ni is sitting on—not for long at all though at the view of blood.


    "What happened?" he inquires quickly as he shuffles up to his feet speedily.


    "She fell down," I answer, not willing to say much more in the rush we are currently in.


I lay her on the couch without providing another word, propping her up on cushions.


 I'll explain later; we have obligations.


    Eleanor comes back in, slamming the door with a blue sweater and sweats in her hand. She rushes over to the couch, and I go off to help the others, Niall following.


    Once we all return to the girl, Eleanor already has her dressed and the wound exposed below the rolled-up sweat pants leg.


    "I found this to put on it," Li informs us. "It's antibacterial spray."


    "Okay. You put that on and I'll dab it with this after I wrap her in the blankets," Louis says, holding up a rag.


    He then proceeds to drape the blankets over her and tuck them in like a true Daddy Direction (an old, fan-given nickname, it is). Right after, Li sprays on the medicine and they clean up the scrape—or gash, I should say—as best they can. While I would help, I'm not very good in the medical aspect of life.


    About who knows when later (when it gets like this, it's impossible to track), her eyes begin to flutter. She winces and closes them back shut immediately. 


    Thank you, Jesus; she's awake! I silently cheer.


    "It's okay, love; open your eyes," Eleanor coaxes. 


    The girl shivers and does as she is told. She tries to sit up, only to gently have her shoulders pushed back by Liam, everyone repeating "No, no, no." and smiling sympathetically.


    She looks up at us innocently, as if questioning, "What happened?"


Niall deadpans "You passed out." before anyone can stop him.


The girl's eyes widen to two times their size immediately. All our our eyes turn to shoot daggers at the Irish lad.


"Oops," he mumbles. 


    "You're alright," Louis assures. "Just drink some water."


    He holds the bottle to her lips. She drinks from it briefly before stopping.




    Louis screws the cap back on and sets it on the ground beside him.


    I move in front of her line of vision from the space I was sat on at her feet.


I joke, "Welcome to my home." 


    "My home, actually," Li corrects politely.


    "Oh, yeah," I recognize. 


    Another sudden thought comes upon me.


 What's her name? How am I supposed to discreetly though? I guess I'll ask it like I'm trying to test her own knowledge; I can't think of what else to do without being overly offensive.


    "Do you remember you name?" 


    She stares at me wordlessly for a few moments, letting time pass by. Her mouth opens for a second, like she's going to answer, then it closes again. Also closing: my hope that she was unaffected by the incident.


    "Your name, love?" Niall prompts.


    The girl shakes the head as the same fright I had seen comes flooding back to her features. It comes in like a wave of rushing water, building up, then spilling all at once as a tear streams down her pale cheek.


The tear, I'm certain, is what tiny shred my hope was, before it leaked dry.


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