MAGNETIC [H.S.]

43. as my organs pack it in.*

He let my leg down to rest on his shoulder, and I laughed softly as I shifted my hips away from him. He groaned his protest as he slipped from my body, but he quickly busied himself with kisses to my neck. He kissed from my neck to my jaw and then peppered my entire face with gentle pecks and warm hums of appreciation.

"You're so pretty freshly fucked, I think it might be my favorite look on you." Most of his body was resting on mine, his fingers lightly trailed a path from my collarbone down to my belly button.

"Fuck me again, I'll be the prettiest girl you've ever seen," I whispered to him as his lips dusted over mine.

"Oh baby, you already are," He smiled against my mouth as he moved over me again. My legs burned but opened for him happily. His eyes stayed on mine as he worked himself inside me again with a relentless pace.

"Oh, god!"

"Oh, god."

My heart was thumping so loud that it was the only thing I could hear. The adrenaline pushed my body forward so quickly, a desperate attempt to get away from whoever was in that room. My ragged breathing and frantic movements gave me away and I knew it, but I was too desperate to think rationally.

I was ducking behind boxes, listening for the heavy footsteps that seemed to be trailing me wherever I went. My vision was spotty, little black dots covering my sights because I hadn't exerted this much energy in so long. I'd barely gotten out of bed in almost two months, I certainly wasn't prepared for sprinting.

They were getting closer, I had to run.
I ducked out from behind the stack of cardboard and took off toward the door. I heard those steps though, they were confident and controlled. A professional.

"Fuck."

"Fuck!"

The toe of my shoe caught the ground and tripped me. I jolted forward and heard a deep chuckle behind me.

"Oh, fuck-"

So close. "Oh, fuuuck,"

I was begging, "Please!"

"Please!" I had turned but it was too late. All I could do was beg the stranger that was standing in front of me.

It wasn't enough though.

It was like watching it in slow motion. The bullet sliced through the air with such precision it was admirable.

Right to the chest. The world went silent.

It was kind of poetic, the way the blood warmed my body as it left me. It was comforting, the way the concrete turned warm and wet in a slow spread across the back of my torso.

I couldn't hear the buzzing from the lights anymore. Couldn't hear anything at all, but my own thoughts.

At that moment I found myself thinking of Louis, and that he was a lying shit. He knew that he wasn't fine. He knew he was going to die. I found myself almost grateful that I wouldn't have to spend my last moments trying to comfort anyone or reassure them that I'd be okay.

I was grateful that I didn't have to lie.

Cora wasn't thrilled about me doing a final drop, she thought it would be too tempting and too hard for me to handle on my own. I understood her reservations, and to be honest, they were valid.

I wanted to feel helpful again. I wanted to feel like I was doing something other than being a complete fuck up. The first sign of a real conflict with our group and I relapsed almost immediately. Just once, but it still counted. Just once, but I almost didn't wake up. Just once, but I wanted it every day afterward.

I was finally feeling like myself again, like I could function in society again without a neon sign over my head that said 'ADDICT'

I had my people to thank for that. My family. Even when they were sitting in silence, they were there. Ashton had refused to speak to me for the first few weeks, but she was there every single day. She was checking in with the nurse, she was refilling my water. She sat next to me and watched movies we used to love as kids. We watched reruns of 'Friends' and 'The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.' We laughed at the same things, and that was enough.

Sometimes Zayn, Niall, and Ashton would all be there. Ashton wouldn't speak to any of us, but Niall talked to her anyway. Well, he talked to me and Z, but we knew it was for her. He would say, "Remember that one time when Harry said he wanted to get out and we all told him we'd support him in it and do our best to get him out safely so he could have a nice life that he deserved."

She'd roll her eyes and leave the room, but he didn't give up. He mentioned some part of our side of the story any time she was in the room. The bags under his eyes were enough evidence of how hard he was taking all of it. Harry was locked up, Ashton was silent, and I had relapsed, poor Niall was at his end. He didn't have the kind of detachment that Zayn could use to keep himself sane. Niall took everything to heart, everything was personal. He wore his heartbreak on his face, but only to us.

One of the first nights that I spent awake I watched Niall tuck a blanket around Ash while tears trailed down his cheeks. He just kept whispering, "I'm so sorry. Please forgive us, we need you." When he noticed me watching him we both cried in the comfort of the dark.

It felt good to finish this for them. To take some of the weight off that I added to their shoulders the last couple of months. I was glad that it was me instead of Harry. I was glad I ruined one last plan of my fathers.

I felt oddly calm as my body shut down. My body went numb, my eyes closed, and my last conscious thought, on my final night alive, was that I hoped that a stranger would find me.

I didn't want it to be them.
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