21 Murders | Harry Styles AU (discontinued)

XIII. Torture

torture (noun): the action or practice of inflicting severe pain on someone as a punishment or to force them to do or say something, or for the pleasure of the person inflicting the pain

Noelle's POV

Monday mornings. The day that is resented by every human being on planet earth. The day that angry workers bustle through the city with grumpy expressions and frumpy attire; coffees in one hand and briefcases in the other. The morning that starts each train-wreck of a week and the day that I used to look forward to.

Strangely, I always loved the start of the week. I liked to give myself a fresh beginning and have all my assignments done with ease and handed over onto Professor Donovan's desk bright and early before class. While other students came in with that hungover hunch and baggy eyes, I was refreshed and adorned in ironed clothes that I'd picked out the night before.

That was, until now.

Not only has my schedule been completely tampered with and put in the hands of Harry himself, but I don't even know what I'm doing next. The cloudy thoughts scatter in my brain, causing my slight OCD to get the better of me.

My legs swing back and forth nervously as I sit in the hospital ward on floor two, awaiting my name to be called by Nurse Linda for my further examination. Harry told me all about the drug I was suffocated with and yet I still can't remember how to pronounce the never-ending word.

It seems like every time I'd manage to get a syllable right, Harry would shake his head and repeat the word - messing up himself by saying it too many times. That was how most of last night was spent after my persistent consisting that Justin Bieber, in fact, used to be a main part of my play-list.

"Your jittering is making me antsy,'' Harry states in the some-what silent air. Chairs scatter the room but seeing as though most workers are out on lunch break, the white-walled room remains untouched.

"Sorry,'' I reply, shoving my hands under my thighs. "I'm just a bit nervous, is all."

"There's nothing to be worried about, Noelle. You've been put through worse than a few blood tests,'' he shrugs, shifting his ankle up onto his opposite knee. Although his point proves overly correct, the thought of a needle piercing my skin evaporates that false hope.

"I know." I sigh, mentally agreeing but it not in the least calming my nerves. My knees bounce continuously and the sound of my sneakers tapping against the waxed floor works as a background noise.

I notice the smooth coat coating the tiles, but beneath the shining surface lies scratches and ran-over rust stains, most likely being old blood stains that weren't removable. My lips frown at the sight; I don't handle blood very well and if it weren't for my zoned-out mind, I would've most likely passed out while on my trek in the forest.

"What are those?" Harry voices, sitting up in his chair and looking to the ground where my vision was aimed. He seems just as interested as his eyebrows touch in confusion and his round lips purse tightly shut.

"Probably blood,'' I answer, moving my feet to the side to examine the floor.

''No, not those. I know what that is. I was talking about your shoes. If you can even call them that,'' Harry cringes, eyeing my tattered sneakers. "Why do you still wear those? They look like they've been through both World Wars and Armageddon."

"I like my shoes,'' my nose crinkles. "They're comfortable and my mother bought them for me."

"How old is your mum?" He snorts, laughing and resting back in his chair. My eyes squint at his, seeing the emerald green dance in amusement while I just slump back in my chair and shake my head. "What?" Harry muses.