SARAH'S POV-
"Zayn your taxi is here," I tell him. He picks up a sleeping Lara off his lap and carries her to the door. He gives me a light kiss on the cheek.
"Thanks for the invite," he grins before leaving. I turn to look at the mess of the house. Niall and Layla are the only ones left and they're trying to tidy up.
"Guys just leave it. I'll do it in the morning," I tell them yawning.
"But it's your birthday. You can't clean this mess on your birthday!" Layla exclaims.
"I'll be fine. I promise," I tell them. I hear a car pull up outside.
"Your taxis are here," I tell them.
"Erm just one taxi," Layla grins. She looks at Niall and he smiles at me.
I laugh loudly and then hug Layla. As I hug Niall he says "you sure you don't want me to sort Harry out?"
"No it's okay. I can do it," I tell him. They say goodbye again and make their way to the taxi, hand in hand. A lovely romance is sure to blossom, I think.
I lock the door and sigh as I look around. There's no way I'm tidying up now. It was half twelve and I wanted to go to bed.
I swung my bedroom door open to find Harry in exactly the same position we left him. He was snoring deeply now.
"Harry wake up!" I shout. But he doesn't stir. I go to the bathroom, fill a glass with water and throw it over his face. He splutters a bit before opening his eyes slightly.
"Where the hell am I?" He asks croakily.
"You're at my bloody house Harry!" I shout. He flinches at my voice.
"Sarah?" He asks disbelievingly. He sits up and looks at me.
"Yeah, you crashed my party remember?" I ask him. He shakes his head.
"I don't remember anything," he says.
"That's because you're drunk," I tell him angrily.
"I am not.." He starts but he jumps off my bed and runs into the bathroom before he can finish his sentence. I can hear him throwing up. "Don't you dare get sick anywhere but in the toilet!" I yell through the door. I sigh and go into Abi's room, taking the quilt off her bed. I take it downstairs and lay it on the couch. I then grab a glass of water and an empty pan out of the cupboard. I place them next to the couch and make my way back upstairs.
"Harry?" I ask through the door.
It opens slowly and Harry walks out. His face is pale and his curls are wet with water and sweat. He looks better but still seems to be swaying. I sigh and put his arm over my shoulder, carefully carrying him downstairs. His head just hangs as
I put him on the couch.
"You can sleep here but I want you gone when I wake up," I tell him and start to walk away.
"Sarah I'm sorry," he says quietly.
"Yeah well I'll just have to clean up all your mess now," I tell him.
"I don't mean about that. Well I mean I'm sorry about everything," he says louder. I spin round and see him sat with his head in his hands. Should I go over and comfort him? No, I stay standing and don't give him any sympathy.
"I know," I simply say.
"Then why won't you love me?" He says, looking me. He has tears in his eyes.
"I can't Harry, I'm hurt," I tell him. He lets out a sob and it tugs on my hearts strings.
"But it's not my fault," he cries. I don't know whether it’s the alcohol making him like this or his genuine feelings.
"I can't go through all the hate again Harry, it kills me," I tell him, the tears threatening to spill.
"Just look at me and tell me you don't love me," he says. I look into his bloodshot eyes and trace his face. His beautiful skin, now wet from tears.
His lips that I could never resist, puffy and pink. And his eyes, his tears making them a brighter green.
"I can't," I cry. The tears were really streaming down my face now. I spun round and ran up the stairs into my room. I jumped under my covers and let all the tears flow that I'd kept in all this time. I didn't hear Harry coming after me and a while passed before I forgot to listen. Eventually I felt my eyes begin to close as I drifted off into a tormented sleep.
