three

                                    

                                          
Harry.
                          
"Thank you," Bea whispers, my arm wrapped around her as I walk her to the doorstep.
                          
"No worries."
                          
She unlocks the door and I help her in, her hand lightly closing the door. "Which room?" I ask, her hand pointing upstairs.
                          
We maneuver up the stairs, her hand on the railing while my arm braces her small tumble. Her fingers open the door to the spare room, my arm helping her sit on the bed.
                          
"Will you be okay on your own?" I ask, not even knowing myself why I'm doing this. Maybe I need change; find a friend.
                          
"Yes. I'm good," she says, my eyes watching her closely. She takes off her sweater, the tank top on her body tight on her slender form.
                          
"Here. Put your number in," I say, handing her my phone.
                          
"Oh, you're letting me go on your phone," she attempts to joke, my eyes rolling but I smile.
                          
She hands me her phone and I put my number in, exchanging our phones back after. I stand from the bed and she looks up at me, her dark hair contrasting her pale skin.
                          
"You call me if you need anything. Honestly, I don't care if you call at three. I hate where I'm living right now and I'll do anything to be out of there," I tell her, her lips curving.
                          
"Are you with a crazy aunt or something?" I shake my head.
                          
"My dad; even worse."
                          
She nods. "Totally understand." Her finger points to her face and I sigh, not knowing why I feel sorry for her. Maybe because she's different.
                          
"Listen, if you can't handle the pain, call and I'll take you to the hospital. Honest, my dad can pay for everything," I say, her head shaking.
                          
"I can't. Thanks though, but I can't do that. If my dad even found out," she trails, suddenly looking horrified.
                          
"Why did he do this?" I ask, standing up and grabbing her arms. I guide her to sit down so she doesn't do too much to make her faint, her head looking up at me.
                          
"Because I came home too early," she says, my legs crouching in front of her.
                          
"From school?" She nods and I frown, her fingers running through her long hair.
                          
"What's too early?" I ask, her legs moving up. She crosses them and looks down at me, her dark eyes looking at mine.
                          
"6."
                          
"6 is fucking early from school?" I ask shocked, expecting it to be 3:30 or some shit.
                          
She nods. "He needs time with his...ladies," she almost shivers, clearly repulsed.
                          
"That's fucking shit. What a waste of space," I state, her shoulders shrugging.
                          
"My mom left him and me when I was ten because he cheated on her so frequently. Last I heard, she's up in Washington," she says, my hands moving back to lean back.
                          
"That's gross. Even for me, that's just so fucking low and disgusting. And I've seen it all."
                          
She nods, clearly fatigued from the hit she's endured. So I stand and help her get into bed.
                          
"Do you want water here?" I ask, her head shaking.
                          
"I've got water over there," she says, my head nodding.
                          
I make my way to the door, stopping and turning back at her. "Seriously, don't worry about calling me too late or early. It's fine," I say, her lips curving.