Sapphire //H.S//

3

The warm whiskey coated my throat leaving a bitter taste on my tongue, this is usually how I spend my Friday nights, the little bar is dim and is a good relax from my usually chaotic life, there's a few couples at this bar, just the same as everyday, they drink and laugh and eventually go home, sometimes I wonder what it would be like to live their lives, carefree, working a 9 to 5, but that sounds kind of boring now.

Most of the time I come alone, or Lana will tag along with me, like tonight,  she's a bubbly person, she walks around this place talking to everyone like she's been friends with them for years, she's refreshing from the stubborn people I deal with daily. Her long brown hair cascades down her back as she flirts with closest guy possible, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Again I brought the bottle back to my lips, taking a swig of the strong liquor, I bought the bottle back down and slammed it on the table, I guess you could say I'm lonely, but that's the way it should be when you're like me, people don't want to be friends with you, but that's okay, the only reason Lana sticks around is because I don't tell her about my life, she knows the basics, I work for Niall Horan, he gives me jobs to do, I go away I do those jobs then I'm back, and that's the way I'll keep it.

The atmosphere is warm, the lights put a light orange glow onto the many pool tables tucked away in the back of the bar, people gather around them, all types of people, I know some, old friends, old fuck-buddies, and people visiting, I don't know they're stories, but they look happy, but they're really bad at pool.

''Come on grumpy, come dance with me'' Lana shouts over the music, holding out her hands and twirling in her short black skirt, I must admit, she is very pretty, she has one of those faces that looks like a painter would spend hours working on, she wears  dark clothing most the time, which contradicts her bright personality. ''I don't dance'' I state, as I watch her smiley face drop to a pout, putting on those puppy dog eyes as she plays with the rings on my fingers, ''Don't even try it'' I sigh with a slight smirk on my face from her efforts, she eventually gave up and went back to dancing on her own.

I look up from the barstool I've been sitting on for about an hour drinking, over to the pool tables, there's one almost empty with just a guy on it, playing with another guy, the bright orange light shines onto their table, I watch as the curly haired guy considers his next shot, his eyebrows are down to his eyes, as he focuses, I can't see the colour of his eyes but they're bright, as he takes his shot he smirks looking up at the other guy, he's wearing a lot of rings, but the two that stand out the most are the 'H.S' rings on his left hand.

There's only one guy in this city that is narcissistic enough to have his own initials on his rings, and I know I've seen them before, in a dark place I don't want to go to again, I did what I try not to do anymore, I smoked a lot, I drunk a lot and I hooked up with as many meaningless people to me as I could, we all have different coping mechanisms but it broke me down after the death of my sister, she didn't deserve the death she was given, it was cruel and heartless, she had nothing to do with the line of work I was in, she was a pretty girl too, long blonde hair and the bluest eyes, she got caught in the crossfire, she was young, her whole life to live, but now she's gone, and it was my fault, I shouldn't have  done what I did but I now realise I only regret it because the consequence was her life.

He swigs his liquor and deciphers his next shot, he lives his life every day the same as me, we kill, then we go and live the same as every one else. His black jeans and white t-shirt are different to his usual attire, when we met all those years ago he was wearing a brown suit which I know was a smart act, to make him look more professional when dealing with the trades, his brown curly hair was pushed up on top of his head, and his nails were all painted  black and extremely chipped, his friend was shorter than he is, and his hair was lighter and pushed to the side of his face, he had stubble around his face and neck, he looked very scruffy, he clearly did not care about his looks as much as his narcissist friend over there.

He's the reason I was in that dark place, the same man that plays pool in the bar I go to every day killed my sister, the same man who's mother I killed, we had this unspoked feud, we both knew it, and I need him to go, Harry Styles killed my sister, and I will not let that go lightly anymore.

AUTHORS NOTE:

Lana - Naomi's friend is obviously based off of Lana Del Ray , a picture for reference: