addicted [h.s]

23

My hand moves to touch Harry's face but he catches my wrist, "it hurts like a bitch, I'd be thankful if you didn't touch it." He laughs a little, wincing in pain shortly after.

"What the hell happened?" I ask, this time much more concerned and ready to find whoever did this.

"There are people in here that work with people from my... prior occupation." Harry says slowly, choosing his words carefully.

"Why did they think it was okay to f.uck up your face?"

"Because I stopped selling in here, and if I'm not selling that means no money is filtering out to them, and let's just say that doesn't make them very happy." He explains with the slight undertone of anger, something that should be expected.

I let his words sink in, "what are you going to do then?"

"Start selling again, and hope that when I get out of here I don't get killed." He laughs.

I frown, "that's not funny."

He reaches out and touches my arm, "I know it's not, but this is my reality, I f.ucked up big this time."

"Whatever happened, there has to be some way out of it, we'll figure it out."

"If there is I will figure it out, this isn't your problem to deal with."

"But it partially is because of Connor, I'm the reason he hates you so much." I suddenly feel guilty for having sex with someone the first day I got here, another example of me trying not to care about anything or anyone, which clearly didn't work out in the end.

"Connor is just a jealous bitch, has been from the start since I was successfully dealing to over half of the facility."

"Still, I feel like I'm somewhat of the cause, stop being stubborn and let me help."

"You're one to talk," Harry laughs. "The people who did this to me could just as easily do it to you, with no consequences."

"Shooster wouldn't do anything about it?" I'm surprised at the fact that the head of the facility is seemingly unaware of all this activity which basically happens right in front of him.

"Money can sway opinion and cause a loyal man to turn his head to what's right in front of him." Harry hints, and I get his message loud and clear, surprised that someone who seems like such a decent person could turn out to be a greedy one.

"Shooster seems like such a genuine person, even if money is influencing him I think we could persuade him to do the right thing." I suggest, actually thinking about pursuing the idea.

"No, Luna trust me there is no way in hell he would ever do the right thing."

"This is f.ucked up." I pout, not liking this situation whatsoever.

"I know," is all he says, taking my hand in his.

"If Shooster is crooked then is the whole drug testing thing bullshit?" I ask.

"He does drug test a select few to make it look legit to the facility's board members, public, and people paying for their family member or friend to get treatment, but other than that it is just bullshit." He explains.

"Can we go smoke then, because I f.ucking need it."
-

I've missed this, the feeling of not being here, my mind feeling elated and free as the drug courses through me, it's effect a calming one, no more thoughts of anything other than this holding my mind.

"I think it's done." Harry says slowly as he finishes off the joint, putting it out on the ground before throwing it away. He comes and sits down next to me on the floor of the shower room, the door to it locked thanks to the keys Harry stole from a janitor.

"How does your face feel?" I ask as my eyes close, letting the drug take control.

"I actually can't feel it right now due to the fact that I am high." He laughs, and I laugh with him.

"Why do you turn into some sort of scholar when you're high, it's actually troubling."

"Maybe if I hadn't smoked so much pot I would be going to an Ivy League school." He sighs, quite dramatically I might add.

"Everyone makes mistakes, everyone has those days." I sing, bursting into laughter when I open my eyes to find Harry not catching onto the lyrics, "you literally had no childhood." I say, shaking my head at him.

"Am I missing something?" He asks innocently.

"Does Hannah Montana ring a bell?"

He shakes his head, "no, why?"

"I can't even begin to explain." He pouts, "but you're cute." I say before leaning over and resting my head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body as I feel like I'm drifting in space, no gravity holding me down.

"You're definitely cuter," he says, stroking my hair without thinking about it, "and this weed is f.ucking great."

"We probably shouldn't be smoking." I say.

"Why?" Harry asks.

"Schooster could still drug test us, or me at least. You may be in the clear, but I'm not."

"I can tell them to leave you alone if that makes you feel more at ease." He suggests.

"I feel pretty at ease right now," I laugh in my high state, "but I don't think you should mention me, I like the fact that they don't know who I am."

"I guess that's true, if they knew what you meant to me they'd hold you captive until I did all their dirty work."

"Maybe I'd get Stockholm Syndrome and leave your ass."

Harry laughs with sarcasm, "you're so funny."

Without warning he wraps his arm around my waist before pulling me onto his lap, causing me to squeal. He then dips his head down and kisses my cheek, then the corner of my mouth, before finally placing his lips on mine as he kisses me lightly, even in my high state my entire body igniting as his hands move down my sides before grabbing onto my ass as his mouth works against mine.

I move my legs to either side of him to become more comfortable, straddling his waist as we continue to kiss with a sort of hunger that wouldn't be fulfilled in a place like this.

Harry pulls away after a couple more heated kisses, gliding the pad of his thumb across my lower lip, "you still want to get Stockholm Syndrome?" He asks with a cocky smirk.

"Not exactly," I say as I unbuckle the belt to his tight black jeans.

-

woah they gettin frisky

Goal: 1300 votes and 600 comments

Did you hear about the Italian chef with a terminal illness?

He pastaway.

instagram & twitter: @heswriting

don't forget to vote, comment, and follow!

-jo