Summary:

Harry Styles.

When most teenage girls hear this name, they go crazy. Their hearts flutter, their eyelashes bat, and their smiles widen. They think of the 'cheeky and flirty' personality he's come to be known by. They picture is chocolate curls, emerald eyes, and charming smile.

When I hear the name Harry Styles, I feel frightened. Scared. Embarrassed. I think all the times I cried over him, all the times he made me feel pain. I flip through the mental memories of being pushed into lockers, and being called ugly names. His emerald eyes girls love so much become menacing and dark. His smile becomes wicked, and his laugh. His laugh used to haunt my nightmares.

To most girls, Harry is a cute boy whose wink could melt their hearts and want to have his babies.

I suppose you could say I'm not most girls, because when I hear the name Harry Styles, I don't think of a band member. I don’t smile and giggle and blush. I cringe, and I mimic a face of disgust.

Because when I hear the name Harry Styles, I think of my childhood bully, whose words could break my heart.


“I promise I’ll help you.” And if there was one thing I didn’t break, it was promises.