I didn’t know how long I sat there on the window sill crying. My body remained curled up, arms embracing my legs. My chin rested on my knees, my distant gaze fixed on the wall in front of me. My bottom lip was taken harshly between my teeth, forcing my emotions to stay within me. I pressed my forehead against the window again, sighing heavily onto the glass. My eyes fell closed, the silence around me gradually becoming peaceful.
But as I comfortably settled into the peaceful silence, a sudden noise erupted into the room, eliciting a loud gasp from my mouth. My head shot around, the TV blasting out loud gun shots, bombs exploding in the distance. Cold shivers took over my entirety, flashing lights emanating from the TV.
I jumped up from the solid window sill, groaning at my aching muscles and joints.
“Harry?” I called out over the television.
“Harry, are you in?” I shouted, praying that he would reply, giving me a solution to the TV suddenly turning itself on. Harry didn’t reply, the only noise being an exploding bomb before more gun shots, a man’s voice trying to shout over the noises behind him.
I marched over to the TV, quickly snatching the remote off of the table. I grunted in annoyance, my thumb hovering over the standby button. But the news reporter finally finished, the screen quickly flashing back to the news station.
“Next on tonight’s news, a young man is still missing after 15 days. Three men are currently in questioning after supposedly beating the man to death in an alleyway on Sycamore road over two weeks ago…”
My legs crumpled under me, my body heavily collapsing onto the sofa behind me. My hand flew to my mouth, a familiar picture taking over the TV screen.
“No,” I whispered.
His sweet smile spread across his features, his muscled arm flung around another male, the friend’s face pixelated. Curly writing adorned his arm, ‘Everything I wanted but nothing I’ll need’. Thick eyebrows were raised above his deep, caring eyes, mouth open as he posed for the photo. The one I’d taken the night of his death.
“Liam,” I sobbed.
“Liam Payne was last seen coming out of a cinema with a young girl,” the news reporter continued. “No information had yet been given about this girl. Liam’s parents have believed her name to be Rosalie Parson, but we have recently been told this name is false.”
Tears blurred my vision, trickling down my cheeks. Sobs tumbled through my quivering lips, my hands wiping away my emotions to continue watching the new report.
“Earlier in the day, Liam’s parents appealed for anyone to find their son.”
The scene quickly changed, two familiar faces sat behind a long table, speaking shakily into microphones. Liam’s mum was slouched over, tissues used to dab at her eyes. Her head was bowed, her trembling body leaning towards her husband. Liam’s dad had a protective arm around his wife, tears forming in his deep, caring eyes.
“P-please if you know anything about our son’s whereabouts, I beg you to come forward,” Liam’s mum sobbed before burying her face into her husband’s chest. The arm around her squeezed her shaking form, a soft kiss planted to the top of her head.
“If anyone knows about the young girl last seen with our Liam, please contact us,” Liam’s dad mumbled into the microphones, camera flashes clicking around them. “We believe her to still be in the area, but we are not sure.”
“Please just help us to get our baby boy back,” Liam’s mum cried.
My heart ripped at their words. Tears ran down my cheeks. I let them fall, knowing there’s no point in wiping them away. It won’t wipe away the guilt, the building emotion. The truth. I’d killed their baby boy.
“Nobody has given us any extra details of that night,” the reporter continued, staring down at the camera. “The police are currently searching for Liam Payne, along with the girl seen with him before the disappearance. If you have any details that may help with this enquiry then please…”
I finally hit the standby button, turning the TV off. My upper body fell back into the sofa, tears swelling in my eyes.
“Shit,” I sobbed, my hands flying up to my face. More tears trickled out from my eyes, my heavy heart feeling as though it was tearing slowly and painfully. My torture for killing their son. I was a monster. Normally I’d leave town after killing someone, but I’d met Harry moments after. I didn’t leave. And now I’m wanted.
I wept into my hands, exhaustion crashing into me with all the worry and stress I’d had over the past few weeks. Blubbering sobs left my shaking body as my mind spun through the information I’d just received. I’d left Liam’s body in the alleyway, his veins empty of the blood I’d sucked from him, but the reporter said about trying to find Liam. He was missing? So where was he now? The mere thought of seeing Liam’s body lying in my arms once more brought a hard lump to my throat. The men who’d beaten him had been found. Surely I’d be next.
I spent the next half an hour staring up at the ceiling, thousands of questions spinning in my mind. Where was Liam?
I gasped as a loud vibration came from somewhere in the room. I sighed heavily, sinking further into the sofa, letting my phone ring. My eyes flew closed, waiting until the vibration to end. I needed space, silence in order to think. My hands rubbed roughly at my face, fingers weaving through my hair. I can’t stay in this town for much longer. I’m a wanted person. But I wasn’t going to leave Harry.
The vibration stopped to then start again moments later. I grumbled irritably, pushing my weak body off of the comfort of the sofa. I stumbled over to the bookcase, scrambling under the piles of magazines in search of my phone. My fingertips soon hit a heavy object. I grasped it, pulling it from the messy pile.
My heart stopped at the caller ID. I didn’t know who else I’d expect to ring me as only have one contact on my phone. I held my breath, shakily answering the call.
“Hey,” I croaked.
Harry coughed awkwardly. I heard distant shuffling before a door clicking shut, Harry’s voice now louder down the line.
“I’m about to head over to the club for the kids’ lesson in a minute. Do you um…do you wanna join me?”
I bit at my lip, forcing away the enraged feeling emanating from inside me. I hated being this awkward around each other. I wanted comfort, flirtation coming from Harry. Not this.
“N-no, I’m fine,” I muttered, slowly turning to lean back on the bookcase. I stared down at my feet, a long pause down the phone after my words.
“Please, Rosie,” Harry finally pleaded. “I want you here with me.”
His words clenched at my heart. I held my breath, squeezing my eyes shut to stop the tears from falling. I wanted him too. I wanted him so much.
I couldn’t stop them this time, the sobs bursting from me. I clasped my hand over my mouth, but it didn’t stop me, only muffled my feelings.
“Oh god, please don’t cry, Rosie,” Harry called down the phone, his voice cracking. “I hate it when I’m not there to wipe away your tears.”
I weakly smiled, wiping my nose with the back of my hand, taking deep breaths to relax.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. I hesitated before finally giving Harry the answer he wanted. “Okay, I’ll come.”
“Thank you,” he sighed down the phone. I could hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll come pick you up.”
“Okay,” I spoke, a small grin flickering on my face.
“Oh and Rosie?” Harry called.
“I love you.”
A sniffled laugh escaped me, new tears forming in my eyes, happy tears.
“I love you too,” I whispered.
I pulled the phone from my head, ending the call before I would start crying again. I left the phone on the bookcase before I shuffled back over to the window sill, returning to my original slouched position. The smile never faded from my lips, my forehead pressed to the cool glass of the window to watch Harry return to get me. But as the minutes slowly passed, I couldn’t stop my mind being invaded by the thoughts about the news report. I had to leave this town. How was I going to tell Harry?
My muscles tensed as I stared out of the glass, scripting my explanation to him in my head. But nothing sounded right. My heart stopped in my chest as his bike parked up outside the block of flats. The material of his t-shirt clung tightly onto his torso, goose bumps on his skin. I watched out the window as he took his helmet off, shaking his head quickly. His curls popped up on his head, Harry’s fingers weaving through his damp locks. He placed the helmet on the seat behind him, one long leg lifting to climb from the vehicle. Rain lightly showered outside, Harry’s tall form standing straight.
Suddenly his head shot around as if feeling my gaze. A relieved smile lit up his face, drops of rain lingering on his eyelashes. Dimples popped in his cheeks, his hair slowly getting wetter, sticking to his head once more. I couldn’t stop the smile flittered onto my lips, watching as he gazed up at me, Harry not caring that he was shivering outside. Harry’s arm reached up to me, fingers wiggling as a way of enticing me down to him.
I quickly scrambled up to my feet, craving to feel his strong arms embrace me, to be held to his chest. I put on a clean pair of jeans and a shirt from Harry’s wardrobe before I darted over to the flat door. I slammed it behind me before I ran down the stairs of the block. I brushed the tears from my cheeks, dashing down the stairs. My muscles began to expand, my extraordinary speed trying to break through. But I couldn’t let it. I didn’t trust the abilities I possessed. Not yet.
I swung the main door open, my gaze falling upon a shaking form sat sideways on his bike. Harry’s chin lifted from his chest, warmth sparkling in his orbs once they hit mine. He looked a little tired, but smiled it away as our eyes met. He rose to his feet, watching intently as I gradually approached him. Rain fell around me, quickly dampening my entirety once I was stood before him.
“Hey,” he spoke softly.
A warm hand slipped into mine, Harry tugging me closer to him. I flung my arms around his body, my emotions in clear control of my actions. My tears silently fell from my eyes, his long arms encircling me, squeezing my shaking body in comfort. I buried my face into his soaked chest, wanting to make up for the time I’d spent refusing to touch him before.
Harry’s hand rose, fingers combing through my hair, his nails lightly scratching across my scalp. A smile danced on my lips as his touch tickled and scratched at my skin before his hand finally closed around a chunk of my hair the back of my head. He tugged tightly, soft lips nibbling at my ear.
“I missed you,” he whispered.
His soft words elicited whimpers from me, my body pressed tight to his. Sweet kisses were sprinkled across the top of my head until I finally lifted it from his chest, gazing up at my boyfriend through my lashes. Rain drops fell onto my face, pricking harshly at my skin. But I didn’t care as long as I could see Harry. His head leaned down to me, soft wetted lips grazing mine, a sudden kiss stolen from me. His lips pecked mine, but the moment ended too quickly, Harry withdrawing almost instantly. He pinned his forehead to mine, grinning weakly down to me. But I didn’t return it. I was getting fed up of the mysteries. I wanted answers.
“What is it, Harry?” I eventually spoke, withdrawing my head from his. “The mysterious phone calls, the quick visits out. What’s going on?”
Harry’s embrace gradually loosened around me until his arms fell limply to his sides. I unwrapped myself from him, holding his head in my hands. His gaze flickered back up to meet mine, head tilted back up slightly.
“You’re worrying me, Harry,” I told him softly. “I want you to talk to me.”
His mouth opened to speak, but he soon closed it again. His whole body quickly shut down, blocking me out once more. He pried my touch from his head, dropping my arms back to my sides.
“We need to go. We’ll be late.”
I watched as he spun around on his heels, climbing back onto his bike. He shoved the helmet onto his head before resting his hands on the handles, his head slightly bowed as if refusing to look in my direction. I just stood there, letting the rain soak me quickly. The familiar heart ache struck me harshly: the feeling of being blocked out, not being talked to. I thought I’d never experience it again once I’d met Harry. It hurt so much.
Harry’s head swiftly turned to stare at me, eyes hooded to stop the rain from blinding him. A heavy pressure emanated from behind my eyes, tears close to falling. My gaze shifted to my feet, feeling Harry’s gaze burn into the top of my head.
“Come with me, Rosie,” he spoke. “I don’t want to be alone.”
My eyes shot up, chin lifting from my chest. My features relaxed at the clear pleading in his tone, the soft expression on his face. He wanted me with him. He needed me with him. Even though my anger towards him was still building under my skin, I couldn’t let him go alone. The truth was we needed each other.
I silently slumped over to the bike, climbing on behind him. Harry smiled as he watched me get on, my hands limply clasping onto Harry’s sides. The engine was turned on, the silence between us uncomfortable. My hands were soon gripped by Harry’s, my arms guided around his waist, my fingers being laced on his stomach.
“Hold onto me,” he pleaded.
I smiled. Warmth struck my body at his words. I rested my ear onto his back, squeezing his body wrapped in my arms as Harry silently drove us towards the boxing club.
I did exactly what Harry wanted: I clung onto him. I squeezed his body every so often, reassuring him that I was still here for him, that I wasn’t going to leave him. He still needed to be told about the news report, but not right now.
We finally slowed down outside the old building. Harry climbed off the bike. A hand was offered to me. I gazed up at him, taking his hand instantly. He helped me off of the bike, before tugging me into him, our chests crashing together.
“I don’t know what I’d be like without you,” he spoke, his voice cracking slightly. His lips left a warm kiss to my forehead, my eyes falling closed by his touch. But a frown took over my small smile on my lips. I knew what Harry would be like without me: safe. He wouldn’t have long scratch marks down his torso, no faint bite marks on his neck. I’ve brought so many emotional times into his life. Maybe he was better off without me after all. Maybe I should just run.
I took a large stride back from Harry. I didn’t deserve his touch, his comfort. I deserved to be alone so I wouldn’t hurt anyone. I deserved to be just like all my victims: dead.
His arms fell limply to his sides, leaving him looking vulnerable and innocent. I wanted to free him of all of this stress, this torment. Harry finally realised his words had had this effect on me, his bottom lip stuck between his teeth.
“You’d be safe without me, Harry,” I spoke, my body still shivering in my damp clothes. “You wouldn’t have those marks.” I pointed weakly at his stomach, my eyes fixed on his tight shirt. “You’d be with someone normal.”
“Where’s all this coming from, Rosie?” he asked, clasping my pointed hand in his. He lowered it back down to my side, taking a step into me. “Has something happened? Is it Samuel? What’s he done, Rosie?”
“It’s me,” I interrupted, snaking my hand from Harry’s. “I did something.”