Silenced- A Larry Stylinson Story

Chapter 4- POV Harry: Family Issues

I arrive home to screaming coming from inside. I brush it off. It's not surprising, since it's a daily occurrence in our household. It's probably my parents arguing again. I open the heavy metal entrance door and kick off my shoes in the entranceway. The yelling has momentarily stopped. 

"Mom? Dad?" I call, strolling through the dining room.

"You are always spending too much time at that stupid job of yours and Harry and Gemma never see you anymore!" Mom screams from the kitchen. She has a point; I barely ever see my Dad.

 I feel bad for my mom; she used to have so much fun with life. She was always laughing at something and doing creative things like painting, which she has a real knack for. Now she just cooks and cleans, and that's about it.

"It's not like you're making an income for this family. Who are you to judge how much I work when you have never set foot in a paying job before? The kids are old enough, you don't need to stay home all day!" He refutes. 

I can tell from the way he is shouting and by the beer bottle in his hand that he is really drunk. Again, not unusual in this household. A weekly occurrence.

"I do the cleaning, Desmond, not you!" I sigh deeply and make my way upstairs. I can almost hear my Dad roll his eyes at her. After a few more minutes of ferocious yelling, the front door slams. I'm guessing my Dad has left. 

Once upstairs, I pass my older sister Gemma's room. She is laying on the floor with her headphones in, drawing in her sketchbook. 

We have both gotten pretty good at distracting ourselves from their constant screaming matches with each other. It doesn't really bother me anymore. It just annoys me. After a few hours of grudgingly half-focusing on my Biology homework and cleaning out my secret candy stash for fear of facing the wrath of my angry mother in the kitchen, I hear a knock on the front door.

That's odd, I think. My Dad would just barge in if it were him. And who else would be knocking on the door at 8:30 at night? I decide to go snoop. 

Peering into the main entrance-way from the dining room, I see my mother open the door to a police officer standing there with a grim look on her face.

 Oh no, what has my father done now?

"May I please speak to Mrs. Styles?" The police officer inquires.

"Yes, this is she." My mother answers nervously.

"Your husband has gotten into a very serious bar fight and is currently in the hospital. He is in rough shape, but he has been in stable condition long enough for us to be confident he will make it through." My eyes widen and I hear a small gasp behind me. Gemma has been listening in too. 

Sure, my father has left angrily at night before, but he always comes back before midnight and sneaks onto the couch to sleep, since Mom hates it when she wakes up to his breath smelling of alcohol. He has never gotten hurt before, though I suppose it was inevitable at this point. My mother stares at the police officer with her jaw nearly hitting the floor. After a while, she sighs in anger.

"Oh, Desmond. I knew one of these days you would do something stupid." I hear her mutter under her breath, just loud enough for me to hear but not the police officer. She doesn't seem to be incredibly fazed by this news, just very annoyed. 

 She calls for us and we step out from the dining room a little too quickly. "Did you- did you two hear everything?" She asks us. We nod simultaneously, still dazed, and she sighs again, this time in disappointment. "Well, I guess you've heard that your father is in the hospital, then. Let's go see him."

The police officer cuts her off, "Actually, I'm so sorry, but visiting hours are over." She explains. "You may visit him tomorrow morning, though. I am very sorry." She leaves hastily. 

Gemma and I are still in shock. Though he can be extremely annoying, we love our father so much. We have so many amazing memories of when he used to give us piggy back rides and play sports with us when we were younger, before he started drinking and working more. 

Before he turned mean. 

Without warning, Gemma starts aggressively sobbing and my mom wraps her arms around her in sympathy. I feel a lump in my throat and sprint to my room before my mother can see me cry as well. When I reach my room, I lock the door and everything comes out in a rush. 

My fear for my father, desperation for friends, annoyance at myself for being so shy, anger at the world for forcing me into this horrible situation- everything. 

I am crying so hard I find myself gasping for air. The tears are spilling endlessly out of my eyes, and I feel the overwhelming need to talk to someone. 

Before I realize what I have done, I look down at my phone to see... 

I'm calling Louis.

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