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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57. Chapter 56

 

-Harry-

 

That tattoo, all of it, it had to be a coincidence, right? What were the chances that the killer just so happened to work for Simon, was a major radio PR, and was right here in front of me? Unless he was actually here for me.

This wasn't happening, it couldn't be. Here was the man that had killed many people, being a serial killer. This was the man that made Erin's life a living hell. I now understood what she meant when she said he made her blood run cold. I didn’t think it would ever get down to the point of someone getting hurt, like she said they would. But here he was, ready to do some damage.

He gave me a toothy grin, proud of his ink. What was I going to do? Run? Yell for help? Even attack him instead? No, none of those were the answer.

"What do you think?" he asked, gazing down at his exposed arm, moving his eyes from me to see my reaction to the evil looking skull on his forearm.

I took a drink of the white wine I held in my hand, "It's something. Very detailed, like I would remember it forever," I said, almost moving my hands up to my mouth, like I wanted to stop myself from talking. The small comment I had made was too much.

"Yes, many people do, actually." His grin turned almost dark looking, him narrowing his eyes ever so slightly to make me feel sick to my stomach. He buttoned his sleeve back on and pulled his jacket down to how it was before.

I looked over his shoulder to see Louis talking to some people. I needed to get away from this man, I had to, "Well I'll tell Zayn about it. Nice meeting you," I stated, shaking his icy hand quickly.

I left to find Louis; I had to tell him right away. Yes, I should be telling Paul, but he was nowhere in sight at the moment. Louis was the closest one right now, so I walked through the crowd of people to reach him. 

"Louis, I need to talk to you," I spoke low into his ear, trying not to interrupt the conversation that he was having with some people. 

He turned his head to look at me with a bewildered look. Turning back to the people, "Nice meeting you guys, but I’m needed, sorry," he said. When he left and took a couple of steps with me so we could talk alone, he seemed a annoyed, "Well that wasn't rude at all," then he really started going off on me, "Seriously Harry, what happened to your manners? It's not like I'm the one that usually enforces that, but we are actually at an important-"

"The killer is here," I stated, stopping the words from coming out of his mouth.

"What? Where?" His mouth was agape as he looked in every direction possible for the man.

"Stop looking for him, you're going to attract attention," I said, nudging his shoulder slightly, "Tall man, grey hair, wearing a navy shirt with a grey and black striped tie. He's over in the far right corner area from us."

He gazed around to check each and every one of the men in the room, until his eyes fell on Roscoe, "And how did you figure this out?"

"Not only by instinct, but he also fits Erin's description to a 'T.' He has a fucking skull on his arm, exactly where she said it would be." I had us turn around, to keep Roscoe from watching us talk, "And he's a radio PR, which explains why he was always killing in different cities. He must've been promoting in those towns as he killed," I explained, trying to keep myself from shaking. Everything that was going on was causing my adrenaline to skyrocket and my nerves were making everything worse. I thought concerts were nerve-racking, but I had never been so nervous in my life.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. So he's here by coincidence or for you?" Louis asked, looking serious as ever.

"I think me, if anything. It would make sense, right? He said he was stationed in London, so why would he be in New York for a gala when there are plenty to go to there?" I figured.

"Shit, that's true. But Harry," he paused, looking at the man again, returning his gaze to me whilst biting his lip, "are you sure it's him? Like, one hundred percent positive?"

I nodded my head slightly, "Yes, that's the guy, it has to be."

“What’s his name?”

“Roscoe Barnes.”

"We should get Paul and tell him."

"And we'll have to explain some things to him, because he has no idea whatsoever..."

Louis looked around again, "Wait, where's Paul?"

I shrugged, shaking my head, "I have no idea, I couldn't see him earlier."

"I bet he's in another room," Louis decided, "You go get him, I'll stay here."

"No, if I leave, it will draw his attention and he might bolt. I'll stay here to keep him here. You go get Paul," I said. I was afraid of Roscoe finding out what we were doing. It would be much more obvious if I were to be the one to leave and go get Paul.

"Alright then, be careful Harry," he said. He gave me a small pat on the back, and headed over to the next room over in the search for our manager.

I wandered over to the bar again, trying to keep an eye on Roscoe. He stayed in the same area the entire time, talking to colleagues about who knows what. I glanced down to my phone to check some messages and Twitter, telling myself that I would check on him every so often.

Bad idea.

I looked up after a minute and he was gone. I looked all around me but he was still missing. What if he had left completely? This was my one chance to get and stop him. What if he wasn't even a radio PR? What if he made that entire thing up to get into the event? So really, I wouldn't ever be able to find him after tonight. Either way, I couldn't find him now.

My best guess was that he went right, down the hallway that led to an exit and the bathrooms. If he had gone left, where Louis went, I would've seen him because my eye view was near there. 

I took one last look around the room, seeing everyone except for him, the one person that I was supposed to keep an eye on, "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit," I mumbled to myself, low enough for my ears only.

I went left, down a hallway. It was one of those kinds that had less lighting than the rest of the building, only slightly. There weren't any doors on the sides, only mirrors and pictures. I took a turn as I walked down, seeing restrooms, a janitor's closet, and an exit with glowing red letters straight ahead of me. My best guess was he had gone into the bathroom. And if he had left completely, there would be no way for me to find him now, so the toilet was my best choice. 

I stepped inside, seeing white floors, walls, and stalls, but no man dressed in a blue shirt. I even checked the stalls, finding each and every one of them empty. Because I didn't have any luck, I left to go check outside. I opened the door that led to the outdoors, seeing nothing but a parking lot full of nice cars. I stepped outside to see if there was anything down the alleyway that I was in, but nothing was there.

I groaned. I had lost him! The one chance of getting Erin back into my life was gone. Who knew if he would be going back to work now, because it was a fact by now that he could tell that I knew the truth about him. 

I turned around, ready to go back inside. I started to reach for the door, but I was pulled to the side by a strong figure. My back hit the brick wall of the building, my head as well. I wanted to move my hand up to check on my throbbing head, but I was being restrained.

One arm was holding me back as the other held a cold, sharp, object to my throat. I looked up to face my attacker. Roscoe, if that was even his real name.

"I want to thank you, Harry," he said, "for revealing that a certain someone really isn't dead like I had originally thought," he said in a sly voice.

I struggled underneath his grip, but he was much strong than I originally planned. It only resulted in him bringing the knife in closer.

"Now, now, Harry, let's not try to run away here, shall we? I just want to discuss some business with you," he smiled. It was one of those smiles that made you want to vomit, "Where's the girl, Harry?" he asked. Him saying my name whenever he talked made me feel slightly intimidated, as if the knife wasn't doing any of that already.

"I don't know where she is," I struggled, "Even if I did, I wouldn't tell you, anyway." It was hard to get any air, because every time I breathed, I felt like I was going to come into contact with the weapon that was being held on me.

"Don't lie to me Harry," he ordered, bringing his knife closer, almost cutting my skin, "It's such a shame that someone like you has to end up like this. You have so much talent; it would be terrible if it ended here, right now. Now tell me where she went."

"I don't know," I spat. 

His facial expression turned angry. He lifted the hilt slightly, only to bring it back down to make a cut in my neck with it. It wasn’t terribly deep, but I winced from the pain it caused, the feeling of metal slicing my skin. It burned and I could already feel the red liquid slowly come from it, going down my throat.

"Now tell me where she is Harry, or that cut will get even bigger." Then he started laughing, "Can you imagine what the headlines will say when they find you back here with your neck cut open? 'Boy band member that had a bunch of potential, Harry Styles, found dead.' Do you really want that Harry? Because it will happen if you don't start talking," he seethed, pressing the knife into my skin even harder, causing me to yell out in pain.

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