Pure Ones || H.S

12 (Harry's POV)

Harry

She just sat there, on my bed, engulfed by the thin towel, the only thing that covered her. Her eyes lowered, to the floor, so empty. She was getting more mature, no more childish figure. A glint of hope and innocence from her rosy cheek, but her fragrance was soon fading.

Her sweet vanilla essence.

"Harry," she called. I hummed as it caught her attention. She adjusted the towel. "Why did you . . . why wouldn't you hurt me?" She breathed.

I frowned. Why would she think such? "What do you mean?"

"I am vulnerable now," she snapped. "Don't you want to rip this towel and take me? Don't you want to rape me then kill me?" She stood, but I was couple feet away.

"Why would you think I'd do that?"

"Because, you're a murderer, a rapist!" A tear escaped from her right eye. "I knew you killed Maria, I knew you killed all of the people in town!" She breathed a while. "You're a heartless monster! You almost killed Uncle Thomas!"

I stood up from my chair, and that had caught her off guard. I don't want her to be scared of me, not from all the lies she was telling.

I slowly stepped forward, as she stepped back until her back touched the wall.

"Shh," I laid my forehead on her, she was breathing heavily. Her heart was thumping loudly, and her eyes were red.

"Are you going to kill me now?" She stuttered. She gulped the saliva left in her mouth to her throat.

"I won't," I sighed, wrapping my arms around her. "I wouldn't ever hurt you, Belle,"

"Ever?"

"I promise,"

"Why wouldn't you?" She pushed me away. "Why wouldn't you hurt me like you hurt others? Am I not good enough?" She trembled. Then she threw her towel away, bare naked in front of me. "Am I not good enough!" She shouted, emotional and unstable.

"Belle, put your towel back on," I turn my head away. I knew if I kept looking at her, I'd lose my mind.

"I'm not good enough?" Her voice small and fragile.

"Belle, I said put your towel back on,"

"No!" She screamed. "Am I not beautiful, is that it? Is my body not as perfect as the other girls? Why won't you rape me? Hurt me? Why won't you even look at me?" She cried. Her small arms then were wrapped around my neck.

"Belle," I warned.

"Touch me, please," she cried. "Tell me I'm beautiful. Tell me I'm perfect. Tell me everything every girl wants to hear. Just look at me, look at me," her bare skin was touching against my clothed body so irresistibly.

I silenced her by wrapping her with the towel. She was dumbfounded, pushed me out the room and locked herself inside.