46. Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Six
Ali
Pain throbs in my head as I open my eyes and blink. The room is dark, only the streetlamp shines through the half-drawn drapes. I move to shift away from the light and my stomach rolls. I take a deep breath, hoping the feeling passes. Swiping a hand over my forehead, a damp strand of hair sticks to my face.
Why is my hair wet?
I look down at my Victoria Secret sweater and pink sweatpants. I don’t remember putting these on, nor do I even remember getting home. I shift again, an uncomfortable pain in my back but it makes my stomach roll once again, a seasick sensation hits me, and I lift my head over the edge of the bed, knowing my legs won't carry me to the bathroom, I’m thankful a trash can is beside my bed, and I empty the contents of my stomach into it. It burns, an acid taste fills my mouth, and a flicker of a memory of sitting in my shower in Harry’s arms comes to view as another wave of nausea hits me.
A firm hand touches my back, rubbing soothing circles, and a familiar voice tells me I’m okay.
He’s here.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and drag my body up the bed to a seating position, turning to face him.
He looks exhausted. Dark circles surround his beautiful dark blue eyes and there’s an emptiness in them, an emptiness I am all too familiar with.
He reaches over to the nightstand on his side of my bed and hands me a glass of water. I gulp it down like I haven’t drank in days, only now noting how sore and dry my throat is.
“Small sips, baby,” he whispers, and the name is like a punch in my already delicate stomach.
I have missed his voice. Missed everything about him.
I hand him back the glass and he places it back down. I stare at him, willing myself to speak, but I don’t. A somewhat comfortable silence falls between us, and for a moment, I allow myself to get lost in his gaze. His hand rises to cup my cheek and I instinctively lean into it, loving the way the warmth of his palm feels against my cold cheek. He moves closer, pressing his forehead to mine and inhaling his spicy scent. The smell comforting me, getting rid of the nausea I experienced moments ago.
“You scared me.” His words are barely there, but I heard them. I pull back out of his embrace, the moment gone, likely lost forever.
“What do you mean? Why are you here?” It sounds more standoffish than I intended but I need it to in order to protect both of us.
I get up off the bed, wanting to put some distance between us. Dizziness falters my steps and I lean against the metal bed frame to steady myself.
“Ali, sit down,” he says as he leaps off the bed and rounds it standing before me. I step back, shaking my head, hands raised in surrender.
“No. Please, just don’t touch me.”
My words must cut him deep. His face falls and I fight the urge to wrap my arms around him and tell him I’m sorry. But I need him to stay away.
“Ali, no, you don’t get to do what you did last night, then push me away. I am not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”
Last night?
“What are you talking about? I had a few drinks. Let’s not get dramatic.” Irritation is in my voice.
“Just a few drinks? What about these, Ali?” He holds an empty pill pot in front of my face, his eyes widening in anger and his hand shaking.
“I…” I can’t speak.
“Why? Why would you take them? I found you face down on that bed. Lifeless.” He points to the bed. I look over to the crumpled sheets, close my eyes, and wince. That nausea hitting me again.
I remember now. I just needed to sleep, needed it all to be quiet, just for a minute.
He throws the pot on the ground and swipes a frustrated hand over his face. “Drugs, Ali, why? Again. What are you doing? Don’t give me the bullshit story. I know there’s something. There’s a reason you are fighting me. Tell me. Help me understand. Let me in,” he pleads.
“I can’t,” I whisper. My body is rigid. With every word he says I tighten my fists, digging my nails into my palms, welcoming the sting of pain.
He takes a step closer, and I take a step back, my back almost hitting the wall. He keeps a small amount of distance, and I am thankful for it because if he touched me right now, I’d cave.
“I took your lifeless body and held you, I thought… I thought I’d lost you, Ali. I… fuck,” he shouts.
I close my eyes and tears tumble silently down my cheeks. It is killing me to see him so hurt.
“Tell me, Ali, tell me now,” he shouts.
I shake my head.
“I’m not asking you. I am telling you. You need to tell me. Help me understand.”
“No.” My words are shaky but they’re there.
He turns away from me, pulling at the roots of his hair.
“Ali, please, I am going insane. You don’t take pills and nearly die for no reason. Help me understand what is wrong. Don’t lie to me or feed me bullshit, because I don’t believe any of it. I am not leaving here, leaving you, until you tell me. I am not giving up on you, Ali. You can push me away, you can fight me as hard as you want, but I am not going anywhere, so you can either tell me now or—”
I don’t let him finish. I don't think about the words I scream; they shoot out of me like a cannonball.
“I was raped.”
Silence. A silence so great you could hear a pin drop. I can hear my heart hammering in my ears so loud it feels like it’s deafening me. Chest heaving, I clench my fists tightly, certain I am drawing blood as my fingernails dig into my skin.
His wide-eyed expression matches mine and my lips tremble as it hits me what I just said. I have never said those words, never needed to. It was always implied or asked in a way I only had to give a yes or no answer. It feels both freeing and terrifying uttering them out loud.
I squeeze my eyes shut, preparing myself for him to walk out the door, and I can’t bear witness to it.
“When?” he stammers.
I open my eyes, staring back at him. His expression hasn’t changed.
“Ali, when?” There’s more anger to his voice and I wince. “Ali, who and when?” His voice is louder now, rebounding off the walls, and I know I have to give him something. I can’t just say those words and expect him not to push me further.
“When I was fifteen. He… he was my agent,” I say on a shaky breath.
Another silence falls between us, and it’s uncomfortable and only makes my anxiety grow, so I revert back to my old ways. I build up that wall, the barrier that protects me, and I deal with the situation the only way I know how.
“So yeah, now you know,” I say squaring my shoulders, trying to stand a little taller and wipe the tears away with my fingers. “So, go on, before you leave, say what you’ve got to say and be done with it.”
He shakes his head, a look of confusion washing over his face. “What?”
“Go on, tell me I deserved it.”
“Ali, I would never… I just want to— “
“You want to what? Know how I refused his advances for months. How my mom told me it was to be expected when I paraded around the way I did, the very way they trained me to. Do you want to know how he came into my dressing room, tore my dress, told me I had been asking for it. Saying ‘we won, we won’, over and over again as he pinned me to the carpet. Held me down as he—”
“Ali, stop!” Harry’s roar stops me in my tracks. I hadn’t realized how loud I was shouting; how many tears had fallen down my cheeks. Chest heaving painfully, I wipe my eyes and nose with the back of my sleeve and blow out a breath.
“The truth is ugly, isn’t it, H? So now you know my dirty little secret. Go on and cast your judgment. Toss me aside like they all did. I can take it, so just leave.” My words are shaky, but I fight with everything I have to stand tall and not let myself fall down.
“Ali, I’m not leaving you when you—”
“Yes, you are. You don’t get to decide things for me. You don’t get to tell me what to do. You don’t have control over me. If I tell you to go, then you go!” I scream. It's guttural, a sound so haunting he freezes.
A silence falls between us.
“You’re right,” he says softly, holding his hands up in defeat and stepping back. “I can’t and I won’t tell you what to do, but Ali, I am not leaving you right now. I will respect your boundaries and I will give you space, but I am not leaving. I am not walking away from you. I am not giving up on you.” His words hit me square in the chest. They are the words I’ve hoped to hear from him. I want nothing more than to fall into his arms and have him hold me, take care of me. I want to believe what he’s saying because I’ve ached for him, but my head and my heart won’t allow it. There's a little voice in my head that tells me he’s lying, that I don’t deserve him. So, I do what feels familiar, even though it’s not what my heart wants. I build that wall again and block him out, to protect not just myself, but him from me and it hurts like hell.
“I need you to go, please.” My body trembles and I wrap my arms protectively around my waist, squeezing myself to stop the shakes. He looks so broken, and I caused that. I stare at the wall, not able to look at him anymore.
“I don’t know what to do here, baby. I want to hold you but—”
“No, no. I don’t want you to touch me. I just need you to leave me alone, please,” I beg, my voice so broken I barely recognize it.
He nods, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He heads towards the door, stepping through it, and he turns to face me.
“I am going to wait out here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you, and when you are ready, I’m going to be right outside this door, okay? And you need to know that what happened to you wasn’t your fault. It was never your fault and I’m so, so sorry, Ali, that they made you feel like it was.”
Before his words fully break me, I run towards the door and slam it shut. Falling against the hard wood, I slump against it and sink to the floor. Jolting sobs rip from me. I curl into a ball on the floor, pulling my knees to my chest so tightly and I let myself cry. I let it all out.
His voice echoes under the door, and I sense his body on the other side. “I’m right here, Ali. I’m not leaving you, okay? You hear me? I’m not walking away.” His words make me cry even more because, as badly as I want to believe him, everybody leaves once I’ve served my purpose. He could have anyone. Why would he want someone as broken and damaged as me?