The songs for this chapter are:

 Red- Taylor Swift

Turning Page - sleeping at last ( I had never listened to them before so thank you to those of you who recommended this song)

Fall Away - The Fray

Tessa's POV.

"Are you okay?" Liam asks me just as Harry and I walk back into the apartment. The air has shifted into a stale and awkward state.

"Yeah," I simply state, lying.

I'm confused, hurt, angry, and exhausted. It has only been a few hours since we've arrived in Pullman and I'm already ready to go back to Seattle. Any chance I thought had existed of wanting to live here again vanished somewhere during the silent walk from the elevator to the apartment door.

"Tessie.. I didn't mean for any of this to happen," my father follows me into the kitchen. I need a glass of water, my head is throbbing.

"I don't want to talk about it," the sink creaks when I pull at the faucet and I wait patiently for the glass to fill.

"I think we should at least talk-"

"Please," I turn to face him. I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to hear the hideous truth nor a sheltering lie. I only want to go back to when I was excited yet speculative to rebuild a relationship with him that I never had as a child. I know that Harry has no reason to lie about the accused habits of my father, but perhaps he is mistaken?

"Tessie-" my father pleads.

"She said she doesn't want to talk about it," Harry clips, appearing in the room. He walks further into the kitchen and stands between my father and I. I'm thankful for his intrusion this time but I'm slightly worried over the quick movements of his chest as his breaths become more shallow and labored.

I'm grateful when my father sighs in defeat and leaves me alone with Harry in the kitchen.

"Thank you," I slag against the counter and take another drink of the lukewarm tap water.

"I shouldn't have let you come here, I knew this would happen," a worried line covers Harry's forehead and he doesn't attempt to hide his deep scowl. His fingers press against his temples and he leans against the opposite counter.

"I'm fine."

"You always say that,"

"Because I always have to be. Otherwise, when the next disaster occurs I won't be prepared." The adrenaline coursing through me only minutes ago has disappeared, evaporated along with the hope that for once, something could go right for an entire weekend. I don't regret coming here because I have missed Liam so much and I wanted to get my letter, nook, and bracelet.

My heart still aches over the letter, it doesn't seem rational for an object to hold such significance to me but it does. It was the first time Harry had ever been so open with me, no more hiding, no more secrets about his past, all of his cards were on the table and I didn't have to force the confessions from him. The thought that he put into it and the way his hands shook as he held it out to me will always remain in my mind. I'm not upset with Harry really, I wish he wouldn't have destroyed it but I know his temper and I'm the one who left it here, knowing just that. I won't allow myself to dwell on it anymore though it still hurts to think about the shred of paper that was left, that small piece could never hold the amount of emotion laced into the words he had scribbled across the page.

"I hate that it's like that for you," Harry quietly says.

"Me too." I sigh in agreement. The pained look on his face makes me add, "It's not your fault,"

"Like hell it isn't," exasperated fingers push through the wave of his hair. "I'm the one who ripped up that damn letter, I drove you here, and I thought I could keep your father's habits from you. I thought that asshole was gone for good when I gave him my watch for the money your dad owed."

I stare at Harry, who is always so wound up and I want to hug him. He gave away something of his, regardless of the fact that he claims to have no attachment to the object, he gave it up in an attempt to dig my father out of the hole he created for himself. God, I love him.

"I am very grateful to have you," I tell him. His shoulders straighten and his head quickly lifts to look at me.

"I don't know why, I create nearly every disaster in your life."

"No, I'm equally to blame." I assure him. I wish he thought more of himself, if only he could see himself the way that I do.

"You're lying," he stares at me with expectant eyes, "but I'll take it,"

I stare at the wall in silence, my brain running over a thousand thoughts per minute. "I'm still pissed that you ran after him like a fucking madman though," Harry scolds me. I knew he would. I also knew he would chase after me in my ridiculous plot to chase Chad down and take the watch back from him. What the heck was I thinking?

I was thinking that the watch represents the beginning of a budding relationship between Harry and his father. Harry said he hated that watch and he refused to wear it, claiming it was outrageous. Harry is unaware of the times when I would pass the bedroom to see him staring at the object in it's box. even once he had the gift resting in his open palm, examining it closely as if it may burn or heal him. His expression was undecided when he tossed it carelessly back into the oversized black box.

"My adrenaline got the best of me." I shrug, trying to hide the gentle tremor shaking through me at the thought of actually catching up to the hideous man.

I had a bad feeling about him the first time he came to pick my father up from the apartment but I was unaware that he would ever return. Out of all the suspicions I held relating to what exactly was happening here, slimy men selling drugs and traded watches was never a thought. This obviously was what Harry referred to as "taking care of it without me having to worry about it."  If I would have just kept my behind in the apartment, I could still be blissfully ignorant to the entire situation, I could still see my father in a decent light.

"Well I don't care much for your adrenaline then, it obviously cuts off the oxygen to your damn brain." Harry huffs, glaring at the refrigerator behind me.

"Should we start the next movie?" My father's voice sounds from the living room. I shoot an impulsive panicked look toward Harry and he opens his mouth to answer for me.

"In a minute," his tone is harsh, he's angry.

He looks down at me, his height and irritated expression overpower me, "you don't have to go out there and fake some bullshit conversation with them if you don't want to. I'd dare either of them to say shit to you about it."

The idea of watching a movie with my father does not sound the least bit appealing but I don't want things to be awkward and I don't want Liam to go just yet.

"I know," I sigh.

"You're in denial and I get that but you'll need to face the music sooner or later," his words are harsh but his eyes are sympathetic as he gazes down at me. I feel the heat of his fingers trail down the backs of both of my arms.

"I'll take later, for now." I plead with him and he nods, not approving, but accepting my denial. For now.

"Go on and go in there then, I'll be in in a minute." He tilts his head toward the living room.

"Okay, can you make some popcorn?" I smile up at him, trying my best to convince him that my heart isn't hammering against my ribcage and my palms aren't sweating.

"You're pushing it," a playful smile tugs at the corners of his lips while he pushes me out of the kitchen. "Go on,'"

When I enter the semi-lit living room, my father is sitting in his usual spot on the couch and Liam is standing, leaning against the dark brick wall. My father's hands are on his lap, he's picking at the skin around his fingers, a habit I held as a child until my mother forced me to give it up. Now I know where it came from.

My father's dark eyes peer up at me from his lap and a chill runs over me. I can't decipher whether it's the lighting or my mind playing tricks on me but his eyes are nearly black and it's making me nauseous. Is he really taking drugs? If so, how many and what kind? My knowledge of drugs consists of watching a few episodes of Intervention with Harry. I cringed and covered my eyes when the addicts would push the needles into their skin or smoke the frothy liquid off  of a spoon. I could barely stand to watch them destroy themselves and everyone around them, while Harry went on about not feeling an ounce of pity for the "fucking junkies," Is my father really one of them?

"I'll understand if you want me to go.." my father's voice doesn't match his haunting eyes. It's small, weak, and broken. My chest aches.

"No, it's okay." I swallow and sit down on the floor to wait for Harry to join us. I hear the subtle popping of the kernels and the aroma of the corn has already filled the apartment.

"I'll tell you anything you want to-"

"It's okay, really." I assure my father with a smile. Where is Harry?

My silent question is answered only moments later when he strides into the living room, a bag of popcorn in one hand and my glass of water in the other. He sits down next to me on the floor without a word and places the bag on my lap.

"It's a little burnt but still edible," he quietly remarks. His eyes move straight to the television screen and I know he's holding back many unsaid thoughts. I squeeze his hand to thank him for keeping them that way. I don't think I'll be able to handle anything else tonight.

The popcorn is delicious and buttery. Harry gripes when I offer Liam and my father some, I suspect that's why they deny it.

"What bullshit are we watching now?" Harry asks.

"Sleepless in Seattle," I answer with a grin.

"Really?" His eyes roll at the irony and I can't help but be amused.

"It's a lovely movie," I defend.

"Sure," he looks at me but his eyes don't stay on mine as long as usual. He uses his sweatshirt to wipe the greasy butter off of his fingers. I cringe and make a mental note to soak the shirt longer than usual tomorrow.

"Is something wrong? This movie isn't that bad." I whisper to him. My father is finishing off the remainder of the pizza and Liam has taken his seat back on the recliner.

"No," he still doesn't look at me. I don't want to push his odd behavior, everyone is already on edge from tonight's events.

The movie distracts me from myself and my vicious mind long enough to laugh with Liam and my father. Harry stares at the screen, his shoulders stiff again, and his mind miles away. I desperately want to ask him what is wrong so that I can fix it, but I know that it's best to leave him be for now. Instead, I snuggle against his chest with my knees bent behind me and one arm wrapped around his lean torso. He surprises me by pulling me closer and planting a soft kiss against my hair.

"I love you," he whispers, I'm nearly convinced that I'm hearing voices until I look up into his expectant green eyes.

"I love you," I softly reply. I take a few moments to stare at him, just to take in how beautiful he is to me. He drives me insane, as I do him, but he loves me and his calm behavior tonight is just another indicator of that. No matter how forced the behavior is, he is trying and in that I find solace, a steady comfort that even in the middle of the brewing storm, he will be my anchor. I once feared that he would take me under, now I don't even mind if he does.

A heavy knock at the door jolts me from Harry's lap. I've somehow migrated here in my near slumber, and he unwraps his arms around me and gently places me onto the concrete floor so he can stand to his feet. I study his face, looking for anger, or shock but instead he looks.. worried?

"You're not moving," he says to me. I nod in agreement. I  don't want to face Chad again.

"We should just call the police, otherwise he will never stop coming here." I groan, wondering how this apartment has changed so drastically in the last few weeks. The panic rises into my chest again and when I look up to gage my father and Liam's reaction to the intruder, they are both asleep. The television is set on the menu screen from the pay per view, I must have actually drifted to sleep without realizing.

"No," Harry says. I lift onto my knees when he reaches the door. What If Chad isn't alone? Will he try to hurt Harry? I stand to my feet and head toward the couch to wake my father.

I barely register the heavy click of high heels across the hard flooring. I turn my head to see my mother, in all her tight red dress, curled hair and red lipstick-glory. Her beautiful face is set into a deep scowl as her blue eyes meet mine.

"What are you-" I begin. I glance at Harry. He's calm.. expectant almost.. He allows her to storm past him and stalk toward me.

"You called her?" My voice squeaks as the puzzle pieces click into place. He looks away from me. How could he call her? He knows first hand how my mother is, why on earth would he bring her into this?

"You have been avoiding my calls Theresa," she snaps, "and now I find out that your father is here! At this apartment, and he's on drugs!" She passes me too, and goes straight for the kill. Her fire engine red manicured fingers grip around my father's arm and she yanks his sleeping body off of the couch and he topples to the floor.

"Get up Richard!" She booms. I flinch at the harshness in her voice.

My father scrambles, quickly using his palms to support his body weight, and he shakes his head. His eyes nearly pop out of his skull as he takes in the woman in front of him. I watch as he blinks rapidly and stumbles to his feet.

"Carol?" His voice is even smaller than mine.

"How dare you!" She waves her finger in his face, he backs away from her only to have his legs hit the couch, causing him to fall back. He looks terrified and I don't blame him.

Liam stirs in the chair and opens his eyes, his expression mimics my father's, confused and terrified.

"Theresa, go to your bedroom." She demands. What?

"No, I will not." I counter. Why did Harry have to call her? Everything was fine, I had moved on.

"She's not a child anymore Carol." My father defends me.

My mother's cheeks puff and her chest rises, I know what is coming next. "Don't you dare speak of her as if you know her at all! As if you have any claim on her!"

"I'm trying to make up for lost time-" my father is holding is ground pretty decently for a man who was just awoken by his angry ex-wife screaming in his face. I don't know what to make of the scene in front of me as it unravels. There is something in my father's voice, something in his tone as he steps closer to my mother, gaining confidence that almost looks familiar. I can't quite put my finger on it.

"Lost time! You don't get to make up for lost time! Now I hear you're taking drugs?"

"I'm not anymore!" He yells back at her. I want to cower behind Harry but right now I don't know who's side he's actually on. Liam's eyes are focused on me, Harry's on my father and mother.

"Wanna go?" Liam mouths silently from across the room. I shake my head, silently declining and hoping that my eyes can convey how thankful I am for his offer.

"Anymore? Anymore!" My mother must have worn her heaviest heels. I'm beginning to wonder if they will dent the concrete floor as she paces across it.

"Yes, anymore! Look, I'm not perfect, okay?" His hands move over his short hair and I freeze. The gesture is so familiar, it's uncanny.

"Not perfect! Hah!" She laughs, her white teeth shining through the dimmed room. I want to turn the light on but I can't bring myself to move. I don't know how to feel or what to think as I watch my parents scream at one another in the middle of the living room. I'm convinced this apartment is cursed, it has to be. "Not perfect is fine, doing drugs and dragging your daughter down the same path is deplorable!"

"I'm not dragging her down any path! I am trying my hardest to make up for what I did to her, and to you!"

"No! You're not! You coming back around will only confuse her more! She's already messed her life up enough!"

"She's not messed up her life," Harry interrupts. My mother shoots him a fiery glare before turning her attention back to my father.

"This is your fault Richard Young! All of this! If it weren't for you she wouldn't even be in this toxic relationship with this boy!" She waves her hand toward Harry. I knew it would only be a matter of time before she started in on him.

"She never had a male example to show her how a woman should be treated, that is why she's shacked up here with him! Out of wedlock, living in sin, and lord knows what he's doing! He's probably taking the drugs with you!"

I recoil, my blood instantly boils and the raging need to defend Harry surfaces. "Don't you dare bring Harry into this! He has been taking care of my father and allowing him somewhere to live to keep him off of the streets!" I hate the way my choice of words resemble my mother's.

Harry crosses the room and steps beside me, I know he's going to warn me to stay out of it.

"It's true Carol. He's a good man and he loves her more than I've ever witnessed," My father chimes in. My mother's fists ball at her sides and her perfectly blushed cheeks flare a deep red.

"Don't you dare defend him! All of this," she waves one clenched fist through the thick air, "is because of him! She should be in Seattle creating a life for herself, finding herself a suitable man-"

I can barely hear anything over the blood rushing and pumping through my ears. In the midst of all of this, I feel terrible for Liam, who has kindly retreated to the bedroom to leave us alone, and for Harry who is yet again, being used as my mother's scapegoat.

"She is living in Seattle, she is here visiting her father. I told you that on the phone." Harry's timid voice breaks through the chaos,  it's barely controlled and it sends a shiver over my body, raising the small hairs on my arms.

"Don't think just because you called me we are suddenly friendly," she snaps at Harry. He jerks me back by my arm and I glare up at him, puzzled. I hadn't even realized that I started toward her until he stopped me.

"Judgmental as always. You'll never change, you are still the same woman you were all those years ago." My father shakes his head in disapproval. I'm thankful that he's on Harry's side.

"Judgmental? Are you aware that this boy, the one you're defending, weaseled his way between your daughter's legs to earn money in a gamble amongst his friends?" My mother's voice is cold, smug even.

All of the air leaves the room and I'm choking, gasping for a simple breath.

"That's right! He was bragging around campus about his conquest. So don't you defend him to me." She hisses. My father's eyes are wide, I can see the stormy current gathering behind them as he looks at Harry.

"What? Is this true?" My father is choking for breath too.

"It's not important! We have already passed this," I tell him.

"See, she went and found herself someone exactly like  you, let us pray that he doesn't get her pregnant and leave when times get tough."

I can't listen anymore, I can't let Harry be dragged through the mud by both of my parents. This is a disaster.

"And not to mention just three weekends ago, a man dropped her on my couch unconscious because of his," he points to Harry, "friends! They nearly had their way with her!"

The reminder of that night pains me but it's the way my mother is blaming Harry that bothers me the most. It was in no way his fault, she knows that.

"You son of a bitch!" My father says through his teeth.

"Don't," Harry calmly warns him. I pray that he listens.

"You had me fooled! Here I was thinking you just had a bad rep, some tattoos, and an attitude! I could deal with that, I'm the same way but you used my daughter!" My father dashes toward Harry and I stand in front of him.

My brain hasn't had a chance to catch up with my mouth, "Stop it! Both of you!!" I scream, "if you want to go to war over your past that is your choice but you won't bring Harry into it! He called you for a reason mother, and yet here you are throwing him under the bus out of anger. This is his place, not either of yours. Both of you can get the hell out!" My eyes burn, begging me to shed the warm tears, but I refuse.

My mother and father both halt, they look at me, then to one another. "Sort your crap out or leave, we will be in the bedroom." I wrap my fingers around Harry's and I try to pull him behind me.

He hesitates for a moment before using his long legs to step in front of me and lead me down the hallway, still grasping my hand. His grip on my hand is tight, nearly unbearable, but I stay quiet. I'm still in shock from my mother's arrival and blow-up, pressure on my hand is the least of my concerns.

I push the door closed behind me just in time to muffle the shouting voices of my parents down the hall. Suddenly I'm nine again, running through the backyard of my mother's house to my haven, the small greenhouse hidden between the trees. I could always hear the shouting, no matter how loud Noah attempted to be to hide the unpleasant noise. 

"I wish you wouldn't have called her," I break from my memories and look up at Harry. Liam is sitting at the desk, making a point not to stare at us.

"You needed her, you were in denial." His voice is gravelly.

"She made things worse, she told him about what you did."

"It made sense at the time to call her, I was trying to help you." He convinces me.

"I know," I sigh. I wish he would have run the idea past me first but I know he was doing what he thought was the right thing to do.

"I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't." He shakes his head and plops down on the bed. "We will always be reminded of that shit, you know that don't you?" He looks at me.

He's shutting down, I can feel it just as evidently as I can see it happening in front of me.

"No, that's not true." I lie. There is slight truth in my words, once everyone we come in contact with finds out, there will be no more chances left to remind us. I shudder at the thought of Kimberly and Christian finding out, everyone else around us now knows the humiliating truth.

"Yes it is! You know it is!" Harry raises his voice and paces across the floor. "It's never going to go away, every time we fucking turn around someone is throwing it in your face, reminding you of what a fuck up I am!" His fist collides with the top of the desk before I can stop him. The wood splinters and Liam jumps to his feet from the chair.

"Don't do this! Don't let her get to you, please!" I grab a fistful of his black sweatshirt, stopping him from laying another assault to the already broken wood. He jerks away but I don't let up, I grab both sleeves this time, and he turns around, fuming.

"Aren't you tired of this shit? Aren't you tired of the constant fight? If you would just let me go, your life would be much easier!" Harry's words come out clipped, loud, and cut deep with each syllable. He always does this, he always goes for self destruction. I won't allow it this time.

"Stop that! You know that I don't want easy," I gather his face between my hands and force his eye contact.

"Both of you, listen to me." Liam interrupts. Harry doesn't look at him, he keeps his furious gaze on me. My best friend, Harry's stepbrother walks across the room to stand only feet away from us.

"You guys can't do this again. Harry you can't let people into your head like that, Tessa is the only opinion that matters. Let hers be the only voice in your head." Liam advises.

The black rings around Harry's eyes visibly shrink as he takes in the words, "and Tess," he sighs, "You don't need to feel guilty and try to convince Harry that you want to be with him, you staying around through everything should be proof enough,"  Liam had a point but I'm not sure if Harry will see it through his anger and pain.

"Tessa needs you to comfort her right now, her parents are screaming at each other in there so be here for her, don't make this about you." Liam tells his step-brother. Something in Liam's words clicks with Harry's mind and he nods, tilting his head down to press his forehead against mine, his harsh breathing slowing with each breath.

"I'm sorry-" Harry whispers.

"I'm going to go home now," Liam looks away from our embrace, seemingly uncomfortable. "I'll let my mom know you'll be by,"

I move away from Harry to wrap my arms around Liam's neck, "thank you for everything, I'm so glad you were here." I say into his chest. His arms tightly hug me and this time Harry doesn't pull me away. When I step out of the embrace, Liam leaves the room and I look back to Harry. He's examining his bloody knuckles, a sight that was beginning to turn into a distant memory, now I'm reminded again as the thick blood drips onto the floor.

"About what Liam said," Harry says, wiping his bloodied hand against the bottom of his sweatshirt. "When he said yours should be the only voice in my head, I want that." He admits, his expression haunted, "I want that so fucking bad. I can't seem to shake them, Steph, Zayn, now your mum and dad,"

"We will figure it out, we will." I promise him.

"Theresa," my mother's voice echoes from outside the door. I had been too wrapped up in Harry to take notice to the silence in the living room. "Theresa, I'm coming in." The door opens on the last word and I stand behind Harry. This seems to be a pattern.

"We need to talk about this, all of this." She eyes me and Harry equally.

Harry's head turns and he looks down at me, raising an eyebrow for approval.

"I don't think there is much to discuss," I speak up from behind my shield.

"There is plenty to discuss, I'm sorry for my behavior tonight. I lost my mind when I saw your father here, after all of these years, give me a little time to explain. Please," the word please sounds foreign coming from my mother's tongue.

Harry steps away, exposing me to her, "I'm going to go clean this up," he lifts his battered hand in the air and exits the room before I can stop him.

"Sit down, we have a lot to discuss." She runs her palms down the front of her dress and gathers her thick blonde waves to one side before she sits down on the edge of the bed.

(I hope everyone's 2014 is off to an amazing start! I will be updating tomorrow, I'm starting the chapter now. I will be traveling Sunday and Monday, just to warn you. I loved reading everyone's favorite memories from the year in the last chapter's comments<3 I love you all!