Life on the Run (Harry Styles)

Chapter 5

Becca

I find myself drawn to his crying body. I sit down next to him and he doesn't even bother to look up. I move my arm to pat his back, but I stop myself.

"Against my better judgement, I trust you," I whisper. He lifts his head and stares incredulously at me.

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions.." He looks so uneasy.

"I do."

"I'll do my best to answer them," he says slowly. He's making a huge effort, I can tell.

"Who were they?" I ask, my voice softer and quieter than ever.

"Who?" He licks his lips. A nervous habit I suppose.

"The people you killed!" My voice cracks.

"Oh, right. They're not very important.."

"They're not important? You killed seven people, Harry! Omigod, you killed seven people." The realization hits me hard, even my toes feel it. I feel heat rising up my throat from my stomach and I bolt to the bathroom. I drop to the ground and I grip the toilet, my knuckles turning white from my death grip on the white rim. I heave and feel Harry's hand gather my hair back and his other hand rests comfortingly on the small of my back.

"Here." Harry hands me a washcloth and I wipe my mouth. He helps me up and leads me back to the bed, his hand never leaving my back.

"They were just girls, they didn't mean much. And it wasn't just me-"

"Why did.. How did you do it?" A lump remains prominent in my throat.

"Are you su-"

"Yes," I interrupt quickly before I can change my mind.

"Jonny, Matt, and I would take turns raping her, always. But the killing was always different.. Are you sure you want me to go on?" He asks, searching my eyes earnestly. I feel disgust towards him. I can so easily leave, just get up and walk out the door, but something's holding me back, I just don't know what.

I nod, not trusting my voice. I know it will betray me.

"One we buried alive, another we dumped in a landfill, we shot one in the head, and one we just left and she turned up the next morning so we finished her off," he smiles sickly, reminiscing.

"You have no heart," my voice cracks yet again.

"Yet you're still here," he says but it comes out more as a question.

"Where else do I have to go?" I close my eyes, praying everything will just be a dream, a terrible dream, and I'll wake up in my childhood bed with my dad reading the paper, my mum cooking breakfast, and Jake locked in his room playing a ridiculous video game.

"Hey, Becca, no. Don't cry, cupcake." An arm wraps around my back and another flys to my face to catch my falling tears.

"I never cry," I say through sobs. "Never."

Harry lays back against the bed, pulling me down with him. His arms never leave me. It's strange. Who would have thought I would feel safe in a killer's arms?

"You have to let it out sometime," he sighs and his grip tightens slightly and I ball my fists, them resting by his chest. He rests his chin on top of my head and begins humming. It vibrates seemingly throughout my body, and I've never felt anything more peaceful. I sniffle, let out a shaky sigh, and open my eyes. The amount of tattoos covering his chest and arms are astounding. There's so many and I have a strange urge to know every single one, inch by inch.