I Finally Found You (Completed)

Today, my name is Olivia Moore. But, it used to be Erin Parker. I had grown up with a normal life in Holmes Chapel, England. I had two of the best parents a child could have. Though I didn’t have any siblings, I had a best friend, Harry.

But, that all changed two years ago. Why? Because I died...or at least that’s what everyone thought. They all thought that I was in a car explosion when I was 16, when someone had planted a car bomb. My friends, family, and anyone I had ever known lost me.

But in reality, none of that happened. Yes, I lost the people around me, but that was because I went into hiding. Three days before I “died,” I saw something that I shouldn't have, so my life was in danger. I didn't really have very much time to say goodbye to everyone I loved. The fact that they didn't know what really happened kills me, they all think I’m dead, that I’m never going to come back. Until now.

Copyright © 2012 -> Iridescent Artist

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56. Chapter 55

 

-Erin-

 

Chris and I finished up class at noon, making it just in time for lunch, "Thanks Delilah. I'll see you tonight?" he acknowledged. He knew exactly where I would be going. Ever since we got to Peru, I found an area that was a ways away from Cajamarca. 

Every day, I would walk up the hill to eat lunch, bringing Jackson with me to sit up high enough to look over the city. It almost seemed like the type of place you would only see in movies, because of how beautiful it was. It was a place that gave me time to get away from everything and just think. Think about Harry, my family, my "Olivia" friends, classes, anything.

I stepped outside of the college to the hot weather with my backpack. The building was all white stone and very Spanish looking. It was actually really gorgeous. I walked down the cobblestone street to my current home, passing some people and saying "hola" to them on the way. 

We lived in a flat, a two story building made of a white adobe-like substance. The roof was all red shingling, with wood beams to support the ends. The place was really cool, the inside was full of authentic Spanish flooring and tiles.

After going inside to grab my already packed lunch, a ball to throw for Jackson, a book to read and a whistle, I refilled up my water bottle that I always carried around with me, filling it up with ice from the freezer. Taking the whistle, I stuck my head out of the door and blew it. Just seconds later, Jackson came running down the street to me, seemingly having a grin on his face.

We took off through the village, eventually finding the path I had made on my own from stepping on the same area so many times. It was good exercise to do this, taking a half hour to just get to where I wanted to sit and eat with Jackson trotting next to me.

I brought my fingers through my hair as I sat down. I wasn't very satisfied with the blonde color that I had dyed it or the length. I missed my long brunette strands, I just didn't feel like myself without them.

I started eating, giving a few pieces of my sandwich to my dog every once in awhile. I looked out to the city, seeing how closely everything was packed together. I thought New York was bunched up, but this was much closer.

One of the advantages of living where I was, was being able to see the stars at night again, instead of the fake ones that Harry's friends had put up for me. He would probably think this place was pretty cool, I bet he would enjoy it. 

Ever since I got here, he would be in my dreams. Not every night, but I would say at least once a week. He wasn't always the main person in them, but I would remember seeing him at some point. Whether it was just his face flashing in front of me at one moment or if he was with me in them, or maybe he would be just sitting in a chair across the room from me. 

Sometimes, I would wake up crying from it, but only the ones where I would be in his arms or something similar. Chris had caught me at a few moments, but I had kept myself quiet most of the time.

I just wanted to go home so badly. I honestly couldn't see myself living here for more than a couple more months. I mean, I had to drop my classes at the University I was going to. Say goodbye to my degree! I knew the police were looking for a suspect, but how much longer was this going to take?

 

-Harry-

 

The gala was tonight, also known as fancy suits, wine and champagne, and business men. But I would have the lads and the guys that played the instruments in our band, so I didn't think I would get extremely bored.

I followed Louis and Niall in with Liam and Zayn on either sides of me, all of us dressed in our suits. You could tell when you walked into the venue that everyone there had some kind of importance, mainly by the way they would carry themselves. 

A couple of people came up the second the saw the five of us, all interested in how we meshed with each other. They also wanted to hear about our upcoming album, which would be released in just a couple of months. 

"Are you guys satisfied with it?" the woman with a black braid asked. She seemed young to be so high in the producing business already, but from how much we had talked, I could tell she knew her stuff.

"Yes, we worked hard on it all summer. We can't wait for people to actually hear it," Liam answered.

"I heard that you picked out your first single already," the bald man stated. He was heavier and quite tall, but he seemed like he'd be the kind to end up being just a teddy bear.

I nodded, "It's called Live While We're Young. We just finished up with recording the video for it, how long ago?" I asked the lads.

Niall finished for me, "About two weeks ago, but we basically just messed around the entire time to be honest," he chuckled.

We later dispersed to mingle with other people by ourselves. I went over to the bar to grab a drink, sitting on one of the bar stools. Though I was too young in America to drink, I would only be drinking some wine, so they made an exception for me. 

"Harry Styles," a large man with short grey hair said when he approached me. He seemed to either be in his late forties or early fifties, I wasn't sure, his thick mustache was throwing his age off, "Roscoe Barnes," he said, stating his name as he shook my hand. I noticed by the contrast of our skin that he was much lighter than me. But then again, I had tanned a lot over the summer months as I toured.

"Hi,” I noticed his English accent, “What part of England are you from?" I asked.

"Lincolnshire, though I'm stationed in London most of the time, working at Syco," he said smiling like he was proud of it, "I'm a Radio PR."

"Oh, so you are the one who promotes artists, like me, to radios?"

"Exactly. Very exciting job actually. I get to promote hundreds of artists to many, many countries every year. I get to travel a lot too," he said, receiving the drink he had ordered, "Well, I came over here to talk about you, not me. So, how are you taking your growth of fame?"

I shrugged, "Pretty well, I think. The lads really help me stay myself, keeping me from becoming a diva."

He laughed once, "Yeah, some artists do become like that right away. You've seemed to have stayed the same."

"Thanks, I try to stay true to myself as much as possible." 

He took a drink of his alcohol, making a satisfied noise after he swallowed, "Got time for relationships?"

I wasn't sure on what to say, whether or not if I should talk about having a relationship for awhile, or playing it off. Erin was a sensitive subject to talk about with almost anyone, "It's...hard, I guess."

"Have you had one?" 

"I tried, but it didn't exactly work out. I don't know, it is a little hard to have relationship when you have to balance fame at the same time." It was partly true, I just wasn't explaining to the full extent.

"Yeah, I'm very absorbed in my work, you'd call me a workaholic I guess. But I do have a family. A wife and a beautiful daughter named Anna." He paused, "I actually have their names tattooed on my chest, right here." He pointed to the right side of his chest, maybe a couple centimeters below his collarbone, "Do you have any?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm starting to get some built up on my left arm. But if you want to talk about tattoos, go talk to my band mate, Zayn. He's growing a sleeve on one of his arms. It looks sick," I said, almost bragging about my friend.

Roscoe's eyebrows raised, being curious, "Oh? Like what?"

"He has a giant microphone on it, the word 'Zap,' some Arabic words, but he's planning on getting a skull tattoo on his shoulder," I said, pointing to the spot.

"I actually have a skull tattoo of my own," he stated.

"Too bad I can’t take a look at it, I'm trying to help him pick out a design," I sighed. Zayn had been contemplating on what he wanted for weeks now. Until then, I had never realized how many different ways a fucking skull could look. Apparently, there was a lot.

"Oh, I'll show you." He scrunched up his suit jacket sleeve, and undid the button on the sleeve of his blue dress shirt to reveal the skull tattoo on his left arm.

Then I remembered what Erin had once told me: He was a larger man with short, grey hair, a sloppy looking beard and mustache, light skin, and a skull tattoo on his left arm.

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