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Imagine 8: Seeing Harry Get hit by his Father

(Inspired by the book Dreamland)

You bearly met Harry and he asked you go over his house to hang out more as friends.

Harry took you back to the pool house, where he lived. His room was probably the neatest you've ever seen in your life, it was organized and smelled so good.

You went to the bathroom and you did your business. When you came out someone was knocking at the door. "Hold on." Harry said, staring back across the room. But the door was already opening and Harry's Father came in.

"I told you to be here at seven o'clock," He said to Harry. His face was pinkly red, flushed. Harry glared at you quickly, and the look on his face-strange and unsteady made you step back instinctively into the darkness of the bathroom.

"Dad," Harry said. "l-"

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" Mr. Styles said, and right as he crossed your line of vision, his face now beet-red, he suddenly reached out and hit Harry, hard across his face. Harry's neck snapped back reflexively.

"When I say you are to be somewhere, you are there. Understood?" Harry puts his hand over his face and nodded.

You felt so horrible for what you saw.

"Are we clear?" Mr. Styles shouted. "Look at me!" He said again, veins almost popping out.

"Yes." Harry said. His father reached over and snatched his hand away from his face gripping his wrist. "Yes. I understand."

"Good." His father said fixing his collar and walking away out to the door.

You walked out of the bathroom and went to sit beside him but he wouldn't look at you.

"Harry," You said turning to face him "let me see."

"Don't touch me." He whispered. "I'm fine."

You saw his eyes were so dark and his cheek red from the hit. "Please," You said. "let me."

"Don't," He said. You reached over and put your hand over his he didn't shake you off. "Don't touch me."

"Harry," You said slowly pulling his hand away to see his hit.

"Don't touch me," He said again.

"Shhh." You said tracing the red mark that was on his cheek.

"Don't touch me," His voice low. "Don't."

But he was already leaning in, as your own hand worked to cover the hurt, his eyes closing as his forehead hit your chest and you fingers traced the spot and again and again.

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