Leader Of The Mafia {h.s}

027

Harry won't ever leave my mind, I think about him all the time. I just don't know what to call it, you know? I think about him, dream about him, fantasize about him, kiss him on the occasion.

Maybe that feeling was care.

I cared for him.

But he doesn't care for anyone else, right? Cold- hearted and selfish with no feelings besides, lust and anger. Someone so evil could never feel such a positive emotion.

Care. To put it in words I think it means that you don't want them to be hurt, you want them to be happy and feel safe. You want them to care for you, but the wants don't always exceed our needs.

Harry couldn't be happy, he's never smiled, he's never laughed. I just want him too feel happy, but the only time he ever seems to show even the slightest bit of attention towards me is when he makes lustful comments and seductive touches as our lips intertwine with one others.

I still don't know why he abducted me, led me to his house and drugged me. He said he had a list of people he takes, but why was I on that very specific list?

Ransom? My mother isn't rich, yet he still claims he was only holding me ransom. But I believed there was a much, much deeper meaning. I would find it out, eventually.

But as of right now, my eyes fell heavy and my brain felt loose; I felt like Frankenstein, except the nails were unscrewing from my head rather than in. My thoughts were like the nails, drilling into my head. The only difference was, I didn't have an option if I wanted to get rid of them or not. That was my mental stability's decision, not my own.

As my head flopped back on the fine piece of black leather, my eyes drifted off to sleep, being both tipsy and high, it was exhausting.

-

"Hey Bree." I heard the soft whisper come from above me, I looked up and saw Harry who had now awaken me from my sleep.

"Hi." I winced slightly, stretching my arms over my head, yawning.

This sleep wasn't an ordinary sleep, when I woke up I didn't feel refreshed, I felt as if everything that circled my mind had now been forgotten; ripped away. Maybe it's because the drugs wore off, or maybe it was just a goodnight's sleep, I needed to feel myself again.

"Did you drink without me?" Harry asked.

"What makes you think that?" I playfully asked.

"I can smell the vodka on you, you know?" He replied.

"Well.." I started, "I did have a few drinks, I was just so stressed about you-"

"Me?" Harry almost seemed surprised.

"Yes you." I lightly gripped the collar of his shirt, "my heart stopped when you jumped off of the balcony railing, I've never ran faster in my life to come get you. You're lucky I saved your ass." I poked his chest, looking him up and down.

"I wouldn't call it lucky." He shrugged.

"Are you suicidal, Harry?" I asked out of curiosity and sympathy, being now one hundred percent serious, changing the mood of the entire conversation.

"Yeah, because a mentally stable person stands on the edge of a balcony, hoping and praying they'll fall. Then they figure to take the easy way out. To simply just, jump off." He said sarcastically, and my question was answered.