murder house / h.s

prologue.

Harry's POV

"I'll have another visper, please." I said groggily. The first few shots were already having a negative affect on me, but unfortunately I didn't give a care in the world.

This was bad.

Very, very, very bad.

Why did I have to quit the band? Why did I make the one move that split it up forever?

Zayn had always hated me. He was engaged, so why did everyone act like it was my fault? After they got married the band would be done for anyway. Did everyone just like to take the piss out of me?

And Niall-- he had a child. Was it really one hundred percent my fault that One Direction was no more? I didn't think so.

My mindless and greedy thoughts did unthinkable actions for me and now my money was slowly dwindling to nothing, day by day. I needed money soon or I'd have to start singing on the sides of the streets again.

"Here, man." the bartender slid a shot glass in my direction, and the drink sloshed recklessly in the cup; almost as reckless as my train of thought.

I made eye contact with the man for just a second, and I wasn't surprised when I saw Ed standing there. He held my gaze as he filled another glass with what looked like vodka.

"Harry." Ed smirked, giving me a sideways smile. Negative thoughts still on my mind, I gave him a dirty look and downed my drink. Alcohol stung the back of my throat, but the pain became numb within an instant.

"Hi, Ed."

It disappointed me how gravely and low my voice sounded, as if I were an old man that were risen from the dead. My mood and my mindset had gotten the best of me, the effects penetrating deep down to the soul.

My old friend shook his head with a small smile, and I took the opportunity to slap a twenty dollar bill on the counter. He raised an eyebrow at me suspiciously, as if it were fake money. I knew what he was about to say before he even opened his mouth.

"Weird." Ed took the money and held it up to the light to examine it thoroughly. I gave him a look of distaste in response, his distrust unnerving me. "The bills you give me are usually newer-lookin'."

"Shut up." I snapped. One thing about Ed was his nerve, and that wasn't something he should've wanted to sport in the moment. I was completely, utterly, and truly, pissed. "I'm running low on money. I'll be broke soon."

"Already?" Ed broke into a fit of laughter. It took everything within me not to just take him, right here in the bar. I'd do it without blinking. "Man, you need some money."

"Exactly." I clicked my teeth. Finally Ed had made a good point, ignoring the fact that it was simply obvious. "Have any good ideas?"

He shrugged and handed me a newspaper. I couldn't see how this would help me at all, but I wasn't thinking straight and took it anyway. He took the glass from me and tossed it in the sink.

"Easy." I winced at the loud noise. A bit of laughter followed, most likely because alcohol was flowing evenly through my veins.

Ed just rolled his eyes. It didn't occur to me how exactly foolish I looked. A formerly famous pop star, getting nearly drunk in a local bar. Was this how all forgotten stars began their descent into insanity? I didn't want to end up like them.

Keeping this in mind, I scanned the newspaper desperately. My attention span was already lacking; no way I was going to read every article in search of a money opportunity.

But then, I found it. My saving grace.

"Murder House?" I asked suspiciously, hoping Ed had the faintest idea about what it was. "What goes on with that?"