The Maid For Styles

Chapter 75

VERY IMPORTANT AUTHORS NOTE AT THE END

Chloe's POV

Panic.

It consumed me from the inside out, before it finally pulled me under and drove me insane. Harsh breaths escaped my lips and my heart rate had increased immensely. I was losing the plot in the confines of my room, and somehow, a bed that used to bring me comfort, was doing anything but. The sheets that I was tangled in couldn't have annoyed me more as they stuck to my slightly damp skin and all the kicking and pushing I did to get them off of me, only seemed to tire me out. The panic was consuming me--swallowing me whole, and it was all Harry's fault.

It had been hours upon hours since all but one man's arrival home. Liam provided me with the information that couldn't have rattled me to my core more than it had. Harry had decided to go out and despite the boys' refusal, he went anyway, adamant that he'd be fine. Given the state the two of us were in, I was sure he would do something stupid. He wasn't in the right place--sad and guilt ridden--and I knew there was only one possible way he'd be able to free himself of those emotions: alcohol.

So, as I sat in my bed with a dominate pain overwhelming me, I waited for Harry. Countless calls were made, yet the only went unanswered, adding to distress. It wasn't long before I came to the conclusion that he'd been whacked over the head with a baseball bat, tied up and thrown into the back of a van. But, when Louis charged into my room telling me he'd sent Paul out on a search for Harry, some of the anxiety that was breaking me slowly was brushed off my shoulders.

I was alone for hours on end, waiting and wondering, calling and talking to a voice mail. No matter how mad or angry I was with him, there was absolutely no way I wouldn't worry about him. He was my boyfriend and I was so incredibly in love with him--there was never going to be a point time in which I wouldn't be worried about his well-being. It was safe to say I was at my breaking point--hyperventilating with tears stinging at the corner of my eyes. All I wanted was Harry to come home and for him to be okay--no cuts and bruises tainting his beautiful skin. I needed him to be alright, because I knew that if he wasn't, my heart would re-shatter into an increased amount of pieces, and I was sure that I wouldn't be able to cope after that.

I'd been home alone all day, waiting for the boys to come home all day. There had been nothing in house that had the ability to distract me, even if it was for only a couple of minutes. My mind had been completely occupied with the memory of Harry's apology, and no matter how hard I tried, there was no ridding it from my thoughts. My usual distraction cleaning, had proven to be useless--as was devouring another tub of ice-cream, and possibly gaining yet another kilo or two.

With the boys at the studio, I was left with no one but myself as entertainment. The TV had been airing shitty shows and the movies stacked in the racks beside the television had all been watched at least once--the multiple movie nights that had occurred being the basis for that. I was completely and utterly bored, and had allowed Harry to consume my mind, and somehow confuse me even more than I already was.

I was supposed to be happy that Harry had apologised, although there was a large part of me that in some way was disappointed with the way things had gone down the night earlier. There was no denying that I loved him, but his apology was the one thing that was going to drive me back to him, and having been feeling pathetic for proving to myself just how weak I was when I begged for a plea for forgiveness from Harry, I couldn't bring myself to fall into his arms just yet. In saying that, I was sure that when he returned home my arms would be wrapped around his torso, and there was probably going to be a very minimal chance that I would let go.

Half of me was convinced Harry had been sincere, but the other part of me was sure that he'd only given me what I'd wanted because he wanted to have someone to hold again at night. I felt selfish for thinking so lowly of him, but the surprises he pulled out of the bag were always unprepared for, leaving me unsure of what to expect from him.