Ready to Run - Harry Styles AU

Jamie was reckless. She didn't care anymore. About anything. Anything and everything was overrated in her opinion. One night of vandalizing the car of a certain Styles sets her life into the rollercoaster of emotions she desperately wanted to avoid. It's only starting to ascend the first hill. *TRIGGER WARNING*


4. Chapter 4

Harry's POV

I still wasn't sure if I wanted to call the cops or not. I knew I had to make my decision quickly; I couldn't keep her here forever. She probably had school or something. And, I'd probably be taking some of the blame for holding her hostage for so long. She was wrong. I wasn't obsessed with her. I was interested, seeing how she smashed my car and then cried in front of my fireplace, but I assumed she thought the same of me for inviting her in for games. Well, not invite. But she didn't exactly try to leave, did she? So I'll just leave it at that and pretend that this is legal.

I was in the kitchen, cooking chocolate chip pancakes and whistling along to River by Eminem. Rap was not my type of music and I had no idea how the song ended up in my Spotify playlist, but I did like the chorus, when Ed sang. 

I loved cooking, but never got much time to do it. Now that I was basically on break, I had a lot more free time. Literally, the only thing I really had left to do was go to the studio occasionally to sing some songs for my Behind the Album documentary. The album was finished, and all I had to do was wait until May 12, when it would be released. It was a job, but it was also just having fun with my mates.

After finishing my masterpieces, I slowly ate one while surfing the Gucci app for any inspirations. On my tour, I would be wearing a new custom suit each day. I had picked most out already and only had 13 left I needed to do. Glitter, floral, stones, patterns, and basically anything that stood out were my go to's. They matched my personality and my bold ego. Hopefully the crowd would like my choices and didn't think it was too much of a pop.

Hours went by. Jamie was still not awake. It was past 12, almost 1. I was taking her to the studio at 3 so I could ask my friends for advice on what to do with her. I went upstairs to check on her. I paused, wondering if she had escaped through the window. I shook my head. There was no way. The sound would have been much too loud and I would have heard her.

I slowly opened the door. She was still sleeping. Funny, I had closed the curtains last night and now they were open. I looked more closely at Jamie's body. It was still like she was sleeping or dead, but I knew she was awake.

"Jamie?" I hesitantly said, unsure of what her reaction would be. I mean, I wouldn't exactly like it if a stranger kidnapped me (temporarily) and said my name. But she was the one who gave it to me anyway.

She didn't move.

I tried again. "I know you're awake."

Assuming she was upset about getting kidnapped, I was getting ready to launch into a speech with an apology of keeping her here, but then she slowly turned around. I almost winced at the sight. No, she still looked nice, but her eyes... they were almost... empty. Like a fire inside of her burned out. I felt like I was looking through a window to a dark, lifeless meadow. The meadow would've been beautiful if the sun was there.

"Hey," she mumbled. She didn't scream, or kick, or even seem to notice she was in a different bed than her own. Her voice sounded lifeless too. She was fine yesterday night, so what happened today? Maybe she just wasn't a morning person, like so many other people were. Me, on the other hand, I loved mornings. They were my time to take a jog and think.

"I made pancakes, do you want some?" I offered.

"No thanks."

She turned, her back facing me once again.

I frowned. Was she purposely doing this? "You should get up."

"No thanks."

"Well, if you ever decide to get up, the toiletries are in the bathroom. I left some extra clothes in there too. Don't ask why I snuck into your bedroom in the middle of the night," I joked.

She didn't.

Jamie's POV

I wanted to cry, I wanted to cry, I wanted to cry, I was going to cry... I didn't cry. The tears didn't spill. It was always the mornings and occasionally nights that were the worst. My heart felt heavier than ever. I wanted this pain to end. But I had learned it was best if I kept them in, so I wouldn't bother anyone. Usually, the adrenaline from running away would keep the full hit of the pain away, but I had failed my task last night. There was no excitement, no fear, nothing.

I shut my eyes for a second. The emotional pain was unbearable. I had to let some of it go. I couldn't cry, so instead, I got up and stepped onto the marble floor of the huge bathroom. Surely when the guy (I forgot his name) put the toiletries in, he must've thought of men and women... and the amount of hair they'd have.

There it was. A razor. 

I took the blade, admiring the gleam of it. I wasn't going to do it on my wrists, that would be too obvious. By now, I doubted anyone believed the old "the cat did it" excuse. I barely wore crop tops, so my waist would be ideal. Looking at myself in the mirror, I could barely stand my own presence. I was a monster. I took off my hoodie and shirt. I brought the blade to my waist, not taking my eyes off the mirror. Slowly, I slid it across the side of my waist, gradually putting more and more pressure until fresh drops of blood dripped from the cut. My blood was my tears. My crimes were my screams for help. Nobody noticed them. Not even Amy. With each cut, I said a sorry.

Cut. I'm sorry Mom, Dad. I love you. I didn't appreciate you enough until you were gone.

Cut. I'm sorry, family who adopted me. I was never kind enough to you.

Cut. I'm sorry Amy. I'm sorry you have to deal with my horrid presence every day, constantly worrying about me and being in danger.

Cut. I'm sorry classmates, I cursed you with bad luck.

Cut. I'm sorry to the owner of this house, the guy who spared me from jail. I wrecked your car. I was rude to you. Now I am dripping blood on the floor, counter, and sink of your luxurious guest bathroom. Don't worry, I'll clean it up.

I made some new cuts that would soon turn to scars, adding to my collection. I said an apology for each person I've met or done something bad to.

Cut. Finally, I'm sorry me. I'm so, so sorry. I ruined you. You should've lived a beautiful life, but I ruined that. I tore you to pieces and pushed you down. I'm sorry. I hope you'll forgive me one day, and I'll even wait until you're rotting away in your coffin. But until then, I'm going to kick and bruise you more. I hope you understand.

I stopped and after washing the blade, quickly hid it in a drawer with the rest of the razor. I stared at the blood. It was leaking onto my pants, but I had black leggings on so it wasn't that noticeable unless you looked closely. I sharply inhaled. It hurt, but that was good. That was what kept me from thinking of the other pain. The one on the inside. I quickly cleaned up after myself. Making sure there was no drop of blood in sight (unless it was on my body, of course), I took off my clothes and hopped into the shower. The cuts stung. Good. Very good.

In the shower, I ignored the blood still dripping. I ignored all my pain. I focused on my imagination, letting it take me into some dream land.

The clothes were a bit big. They were probably Curly's. There were sweatpants that were extremely baggy on me and an oversized plain, black t-shirt. I left my other clothes on the bed, careful to put my pants on top so the still-kind-of-wet-blood wouldn't stain the white and cream sheets.

Curly was waiting for me in the kitchen with some cold chocolate chip pancakes. I was feeling significantly better now so I started the conversation.

"You really care for me, don't you?"

He rolled his eyes at my smirk. "Just trying to treat my guests with hospitality."

"Oh so I'm your guest now?" I drawled while taking a seat across from him and digging into the pancakes. They were good. I haven't had proper breakfast in a long time. Amy and I were good cooks, it was just that we were too lazy and usually too busy to bother spending our time cooking.

"When were you not? You got the guest bedroom, didn't you? I could've tied you up to a chair and left you in the basement overnight."

I paused mid-chew, pondering over what he said. He could've, couldn't he? And yet he didn't.

"Do you seriously trust me that much?" I snorted. I could not be trusted. If I weren't so tired, I would've been sneaking around the house, finding where all the spare cash was. 

"Well what do you want me to do?"

"I don't know. Send me to jail?"

"Why would you want to go there?" he asked incredulously.

"I don't. But I would expect it."

"Wouldn't it be lonely there?"

"I'm already lonely."

"Aw, don't say tha-"

"Curly, we're all just lonely people trying to be less lonely."

He didn't say anything after that. He just stared at me with this look I couldn't understand. It looked like a mix of many things, but I couldn't quite read the emotions. Trust me, I had trained a lot in high school. I was a pro at these things, but there were too many. If I stared into those emerald orbs for a second longer, I thought I was going to faint from all the emotion swirling inside. I averted my gaze to my empty plate.

"Oh shit, we've got to go. Put the plate in the sink and wait for me at the front door," he ordered.

Feeling like I already bothered people enough, I obeyed without question.

Curly pulled me outside with his car keys. I was about to ask what car could we even take when I saw the Range Rover parked in place of the Audi.

"Wha-? D-did you clean it all overnight?" I stammered, clearly baffled.

"No, I just hired someone."

"Pfft. Rich people."

I guess I was being hypocritical, since I was pretty much rich and did things way worse with money than this guy did.

We sped towards an unknown destination in silence. It wasn't exactly awkward, but it wasn't comfortable either. It was just now did I notice the amount of rings adorned on his fingers. Meanwhile here I was, wearing a thin gold band with a diamond infinity symbol. My parents gave it to me for my 15th birthday because they thought it represented me. Gold was delicate, but the diamond was unbreakable and strong. The infinity symbol was a symbol of their forever love and all those cheesy things that I was never fond of.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"To meet my people," Curly beamed. He said it with such happiness that I almost felt like smiling too. How could someone be so happy to see their friends? I mean, sure, hanging out with Amy was fun, but I was never that happy about meeting anyone. It could be Taylor Lautner for I all cared.

The joyfulness in this car that was provided by him and only him became too much for me to bear. I had to bring him down. Like a smart person once said, if you're going down to hell, might as well drag someone along with you. Was that what someone said? Or was that something I just made up?

"They're probably fake friends."

It did not have the desired effect. 

"You're just saying that because you have no friends."

"You wouldn't know."

"Nobody called or texted you."

"What type of person would text someone in the middle of the night - wait... give back my phone!"

He took one hand off the wheel and stuck it into his pocket. His hand came out with my phone. I lunged for it, only for his hand to move it under his butt. His mouth twisted into a cheeky smile.

Curly winked. "I think I have to fart..."

"Don't you dare-"

There was a loud pissing sound. I gasped.

"MY PHONE!" I wailed.

Worst of all, it was one of those extremely stinky silent farts. I rolled down a window and gulped as much fresh air as I could. The guy chuckled and went back to focusing on driving. 

I closed the window once the stench was gone.

"You're a demon," I concluded.

"Says you."

"Oh yeah... sorry 'bout that... I wasn't supposed to be caught."

"It's better that you were."

"Is this what you do to all bad people? You torture them slowly until they go insane?"

"I've never had any 'bad people' come into my life before. You're the first and hopefully last."

I didn't know if I should've been offended or not. Probably yes.

He began humming a song. "I wanna be last, yeah, baby let me be your, let me be your last first kiss. I wanna be first, yeah, wanna be the first to take it all the way like this. And if you only knew, I wanna be last yeah, baby let me be your last, your last first kiss."

The song was unknown to me, but it was good. I wouldn't purposely scroll down my playlist and search for that particular song, but there would be a chance that it would be in one of my playlists.

"We're here," Curly dramatically announced.

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