Chapter 37: Empathetic

Shoutout to beminehestyles (: If u all are looking for another fanfic to read she has a Harry, Louis, Zayn, AND Niall one! x

Harry POV:

The thought was killing me.

Some man had laid his hands on Whitney. My Whitney.

"Harry."

I snapped out of my daze just before our eyes locked. Sapphire hue clouded with a film of tears.

Whitney's hand was gently placed upon mine, guiding me to her left side.

I stared back in confusion, watching intently while she pushed up the hem of her tee to reveal just below her belly button.

My eyes fell upon a blazed red scratch upon her hipbone, my thumb skimming the tender skin, "What's this?"

She looked away in shame, my hand moving to rest in the curve of her bare waist.

I couldn’t have her shut me out.

Not again.

“Don’t be afraid to tell me,” I encouraged.

Her eyes uncertainly met with mine, voice coming out in a hushed whisper.

"It’s where he dug his nails into my skin...”

“…after I screamed for help."

I couldn't take my stare off of the mark, her words sending an antagonizing pain through my chest.

I looped my thumb around the hem bringing another into view, hesitating to lift it any further.

"You can," Whitney permitted.

My brow narrowed, eyes examining the second, and then third mark brought into view.

"There's four."

I jerked my head up to meet her stare, "Four?"

Her palm rested over mine, lifting the bottom hem just below her bra to reveal the last one. My eyes scanned them entirely, each parallel to the last, equal in length- about three inches, deep but not permanently so.

I could feel her hand begin to tremble in mine, growing anxious the longer I continued to look at them. My eyes rose to lock with hers before lowering myself so my head was level with her abdomen.

I couldn’t make them disappear.

But maybe in her mind I could.

_ _ _ _ _

Whitney POV:

Song- Alien: Cary Brothers

The nerves in my chest bundled as Harry examined the marks. Not permanent but temporarily so.

“Whit.”

I couldn’t look at him.

What was the point?

All they would display was…disappointment.

Perhaps even repulsion.

His index trailed my chin, leaving me with no choice but to meet his gaze anyways.

“If it’s not my fault, it’s not yours either.”

Silence.

“You know that right?” Harry probed.

I let out a shaky breath, wishing deep inside that I believed his words.

“I hate them,” I confessed in a hushed whisper. Glancing down at the marks etched into my skin in embarrassment.

“They don’t make you any less beautiful,” Harry spoke, running his thumb across my bottom lip.

I almost smiled at that, along with that charming grin of his which was damn near perfect.

“Thank you Harry.”

His grin widened, my lips met with his in a brief peck a moment later. One that only left me wanting more: the sensitivity, the emotion transfixed through a mere instant, to the point where they were still tingling when he pulled away at that.

But what he did next took me by surprise more than anything he’s ever done.

Ever.

His bright emerald eyes flickering into mine with reassurance before lowering himself.

Plump lips pressing to the first mark tenderly, showering kisses along the red line before moving onto the next.

Digits intertwining with mine effortlessly, thumb running vertically across my knuckles, all the meanwhile continuing to kiss the pain away. Perhaps even the memories of how they got there in the first place, well almost.

My skin altered from burning hot to soothingly cool with each movement of his lips to my flesh.

When they departed from the second scratch his eyes locked up to mine.

“How does that feel?” Harry raspingly inquired.

My free hand found his curls, brushing them away from his forehead to reveal the deepness of this moment held in his fixed stare.

“Good,” I whispered.

Harry displayed a weak beam in which I mirrored. His right arm lifting from aside my waist, reaching across to his left shoulder.

His palm encompassed mine in his expansive one. Warm lips kissing the back of my hand, our stare intensifying.

My stomach flipped from the inside out when his lips were met to my skin once more; Chest rising and falling in quick breaths of succession.

I tried to concentrate on slowing my heartbeat but every kiss upon my skin ignited it a little bit more.

My heart whirling in my chest.

Longing for him more than ever when he finished with the fourth and final mark.

"They should fade in a few days," Harry mumbled.

I nodded, eyes studying his frame when I realized his tee had been pushed up in his process of maneuvering back to my side.

Curiosity took over me, my digits reaching to trace the butterfly tattoo of his that was now half way exposed.

He glanced down, watching me as they skimmed the smooth skin.

“Did it hurt?”

His answer was delayed, given an uncharacteristic amount of thought.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.” He paused, musing in his thoughts. “Pain has its many outlets.”

Silence took over me when his stare dropped to my body, “There are different degrees of meaning attached to every pain we feel. Some we would do anything to prevent…That in which we wish we could take away.”

His eyes narrowed as I understood where he was going.

“It was more unpleasant than painful…” I acknowledged before my voice lingered off nervously.

Harry’s hand cupped my chin, tone faltering, “Where else did he…you know” Harry simply nudged not wanting to complete his inquiry aloud.

"Can I show you where else...instead of tell?" I nervously whispered.

Harry nodded silently, moving my hand atop his larger one.

"Of course babe."

I slid my fingers into the spaces that separated his, guiding them up to where the hem of my tee was bundled.

His came to a halt beneath mine, hesitating to move beyond the underwire of my bra. Eyes locking, waiting for me to say no, but I stared back with encouragement.

His emerald ones breaking in response as he drew in a deep breath, stare deepening, palm slowly moving to cup my breast.

Thumb running along the seam of my bra so gently I barely felt his presence.

"D-Did he…” Harry attempted, taking in a short breath before asking entirely.

“Did he touch you here?" He whispered.

I bit my bottom lip as it began to quiver; A shaky breath departing his lips when my answer of yes was conveyed through our stare. So powerfully I could feel the pain surfacing in his chest travel deep into mine.

His disheartened tone confirming my belief, "I'm sorry."

"You couldn't have done anything Harry," I consoled.

His voice was raspy, underlined with evident regret.

"I could have found you-"

I shook my head in divergence; "Don't do that to yourself Harry. Don't go there."

His lips pressed together as silence over took him. My hand guiding Harry’s to the right side of my neck, palm sliding down to grasp his forearm before releasing him from my grasp.

His thumb pressed to my lips, running horizontally while his stare continued to deepen.

The look in his eyes distressing: so cold with frustration.

This time Harry didn't ask, for he already knew. Confirming my belief when his voice struggled to keep calm.

"He kissed you..."

Pausing for a moment before adding another realization in the most brokenheartedly tone.

"…More than once."

The trembling of my hands worsened so I pressed my palm to his chest in effort to calm myself.

"They were nothing like yours," I alleged.

Harry moved his left palm to encompass mine. My digits pressing deeper into the fabric, heart longing to feel the pace of his.

Just as I had imagined it.

So rapid,

Unsteady.

.

Song- Small Bump: Ed Sheeran

His lips descended to mine so lightly I barely felt them. Tongue searching for any indents left in my lip besides where I bite my own out of habit. Thankfully there were none that I was aware of.

The caressing movement of his mouth against mine began to replace the memories of forced kisses with his in which I craved.

The ones I lived for.

Each setting me a little more at ease.

Calming my heartbeat one rhythmic pace at a time.

Until a flashback hit me like a hurricane.

An imagine repaying through my mind. Back when a sharp pain traversed though my body; The man’s teeth bitting down on my skin but not upon my lips though.

My hand shot up to the back of my neck, Harry withdrawing from the kiss to follow my shaken movements.

The pads of my fingertips nervously hovered over the tender skin; Harry's hand finding mine with worry in his eyes; Quickly attempting to interlock his long fingers around mine to examine the skin beneath.

I hated them.

All the evidence of what happened tonight.

And the worst part was there was no hiding them.

Every one as exposed to Harry as my heart.

_ _ _ _ _

Harry POV:

My eyes landed upon Whitney's palm, pushing her hair to the side to reveal a splotch of purple and green.

"Hit bit you," I growled in repulsion.

"I forgot...but then it came back...just now." Whitney murmured.

The way her hand shook beneath mine led me to believe I was drawing close to that which scared her, well us, the most.

My hand slowly moved to her left hip, opposite of the marks brazed into her skin.

Hand steadying as my fingertips began to trail across the folded ban of her shorts.

Whitney nodded as I paused uneasily, taking her bottom lip between her teeth as she watched me intently.

But I couldn't move from beyond there, even with her permission.

It felt wrong, in the sense she was incredible fragile, any movement of mine threatening another breakdown.

"Harry..."

"Babe I just-“

“I just need t-to know," I stammered.

My throat catching in my stomach when I glanced up to see her eyes welling with tears.

Her hand reached for mine, digits locking in the tiny space upon the sheet that separated us.

In that moment time seemed to freeze upon itself.

Our eyes sensing one others emotions when she spoke the response neither of us were prepared for through jagged breaths.

"He was”…“so close-"

Whitney paused, my index wiping beneath her lashes, exhaling deeply before speaking once more.

"And in that moment all I could think about was how it was supposed to be you," she almost smiled and cried simultanously.

I squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"I felt so defenseless-"

Another tear trickled down her cheek.

"Shh it's okay Whit," I cooed.

"It's not okay," she shook her head.

"You can tell me babe. Just tell me." I pleaded.

My hand reached around to her back, circling between her shoulder blades the way she loved, nails skimming along her spine until she confessed everything in staggered sentences.

"He fucking touched me Harry. And th-th-”

“That may not be rape bu-but i-it might as w-well have been."

She

wasn't

raped

She wasn’t raped.

Thank god.

But as quickly as the feeling of relief passed through my chest my heart broke just as quickly; For every good news has its downfall.

The fact that his hands were so close making my skin crawl.

When I find whoever did this to her.

He’s as good as dead for all I’m concerned.

.

I wrapped my arms around her small frame, my digits continuing to move along her back while my lips pressed to her cheek. In that moment the tears upon her cheek pressed to mine, eyelashes batting away the new ones away as they fell.

She was clearly resistant at first but after exhaling at last everything fell into place, in the sense that it crumbled out of it.

“It’s okay babe; I’ve got you.” I cooed.

It was then Whitney allowed herself to fall apart fully. Body freezing within my tight grasp, the shaking of her heart deep within her chest being revealed, that in which I initially believed to be due to anxiety or nerves. It was deeper than that though.

So many tears being shed I couldn't quite wipe them quick enough.

A few of my own shed at the sight of her breaking.

But in that moment we were both connected, empathetic.

Connected by something stronger so much deeper than us.

That in which neither of us was ready to express in words.

But deep down an unspoken understanding of the internal bond we now shared from this moment on.

For I felt her pain.

And she felt mine.

. . .

Whitney POV:

I wasn't sure if they were tears of joy at the realization I had been able to stop him in time or ones of fear for how close he was to doing just that.

How his hands freely explored down my body, beneath my jeans, everywhere imaginable.

Positioning himself, just inches away from taking away that in which I could never get back.

For he may not have taken my virginity.

But the way he took advantage of my body was damn well enough for him to take my innocence.

Marking my body.

Harry.

I just want to be Harry's.

And yes the marks will fade but the memories of his hands upon mine, nails dug into my bare skin, body's pressed together in the eerie darkness-

They will last a lifetime.

And Harry will never be the first to touch me in those places anymore.

But if I had anything to say about it.

He was going to be my last.