Harry Styles Self Harm Novels & Stories

"Harry! I almost hit you. Don't ever sneak up on me like that." "I'm sorry. I didn't want to call your name in front of everyone." I noticed something on his face, "what the hell, Harry! You shaved?" Harry's jaw, which was once filled with hair, was now clean shaved, and I think it suits him. He looks younger. "I decided to try something new." He said as he strokes his bare jaw. His face turned sour as he sniffed the air. "You smell different today." I didn't know how to answer that, so I kept quiet, trying to think of something else to say, but he beat me to it. "Where are you going to go dressed up like this?" He said, pointing at my dress and shoes.

Trauma Or Depression That night, Sarra could not stop herself from coming to the hospital. She was very worried about what had happened to her sister-in-law after her husband told her. After Harry went to his company building, to be precise above the place to vent the anger that was still welling up in his chest. It wasn't being unable to kill people that caused his younger brother to struggle between life and death, but it was too easy for a bastard like Dominic. Harry wanted to physically hurt him until the man himself begged to die.

Putting back the golden pocket watch where it used to be, Henry looked inside his pocket for the small toothed gear, sensing the pointiness of the tiny bumps, he wrapped his palm around the small object and squeezed it without taking it out of his pocket. Henry felt the pain of the small teeth digging into his palm, but all what appeared on his face was a barely noticeable twitch, he didn’t want anyone to know what he was doing to himself; he didn’t want to be seen as someone with self-harming tendencies, especially since that wasn’t the case.

She says as if she just heard the most ridiculous accusation of her life. "How not? You heard that I had a cut and the first thing you do is blame me for letting someone tend to me. Is it my fault that I cut myself. Self Harm never appealed to me and I would only grab a knife and cut my arm if I was crazy", I shout almost on top of my lungs. And I was that crazy yesterday, except no one would ever find out about how crazy I was to cut myself for some attention for a man who only rejected and recieved me in the end.

So annoying! "Ugh, I almost forgot you're here," I jokingly said, which is partly true. "Yeah, understandable. Look how hot she is," Harry praised Stacey and looked at her with lustful eyes. I got irritated with his actions. "Stop looking at her!" I give her the tuxedo I removed a while ago and cover it to her body. I'm selfish with my snack so I don't want Harry to be looking at her and imagining things. Stacey is also wearing lingeries; part of her presentation, I guess.

"How is any of this helping your situation?!" I sized him up and snickered. "You should strip off the suit I designed, you piece of shit!" "I—" "Oh, right. You're on her side. She stole my gown, and you stole the suit I made for my groom. Just a perfect match in hell—" "I'm gonna tear off your mouth!" Harry had lost it. He lunged and started beating me up in public. I couldn't dodge fast enough, and he managed to grab my arm and slap me.

It was blurred out, but I knew it was not me. I dropped the package on the floor and rolled over. The thought of self-harming crossed my mind for the first time. I stood up from the bed and went inside his bathroom. I filled the tub till the water was brimming over the edge. I search Alex's drawer for some blades and settle myself into the tub. Ripping the pack off, I run the blade on my hand, making minor cuts, then bigger. I dropped the blade on the side and dipped my head under the tub when I had enough.

It seemed that I wanted to commit suicide because of the pain, but I couldn't help but pretend to protect her feelings, including our friendship. After that night and when I got home to our house. I faced the mirror again and stared at myself. I just stood there for a few hours and stared at myself. I hold the sharp scissors in my right hand. I bent down for a moment and stared at that scissors. Moments later I lifted my head again and looked in the mirror. I raised my own hand holding scissors and he slowly cut my long hair. Every cut in the fiber of my hair equals every grain of tear that drips into my eyes.

Harry had beaten the hell out of them. " You forget one thing. " I said and paced toward them. They started to plead. I could see deep cuts on the hands which Harry gave them. I bent down to him. Who was holding her arms? I untied his hands and legs. He fell to the ground with a thud. Instantly he stood up but staggered. There were bandages on his thigh as I shot him. I beckoned him to punch me, " We are sorry. Please set us free. We will not repeat our mistakes." He started to plead again.

Two hours passed and Harriet is ready to bring down this beauty palace. "What the hell did you do to my hair? Where are my edges? This looks horrible." She screamed, tugging at the extreme end of the black silly weavon. "You said you wanted a style that will cover the baldness of your front hair." The fair-skinned stylist raised her hands in gesticulation. "It is your entire head that will be bald." Harriet spat with nose flared in anger and irritation. "I'm sorry ma'am, but I just did what you told me to do." The stylist frowned.