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Y/N's POV
All of my focus and attention is on this man who's merely seconds away from finally telling me what's been picking at me since yesterday. It's inevitable that my heart is thumping rapidly as I prepare myself to here whatever it is that he has to say that is so malicious referring to Harry. So many possibilities and ideas run through my head as to what he could possibly do that drove Andrew to these lengths.
Here I am in an abandoned warehouse, with a perverted, sick asshole who's tried having his way with me, and a man who's behind all of this. A man who's cold enough to have me held captive but thoughtful enough to make sure I'm okay after that dick groped me and nearly raped me. Whatever his reasoning is to have gone off the deep end makes me curious, it almost makes me believe as if that's the reason I'm here, because Harry might have potentially done that or something close to that to someone else.
That thought alone scares the hell out of me. I know Harry well enough to know that he's not capable of doing that. I know my best friend, well my ex best friend. Do I? No, I refuse to believe that Harry could commit such horrible act. Yet again, it seems like that's the only logical and common sense idea on why Andrew seems to despise the fact that men think they can take advantage of women.
After going through all these thoughts in my head, I return my undivided attention to him. He seems hesitant, but quickly recovers. The look on his face only tells me that this is something serious, something I may not even be able to bear.
Any second longer and I may just snap urging him to hurry up, but I keep my cool. This must be a sore subject for him.
"Andrew," I snap him out of his trance.
"Y/N, I don't want Harry to taint you. He probably already has, but... Once I explain, you'll understand. Trust me," he says reassuringly. Trust the man who's responsible for me being kidnapped and held hostage? Oh how ironic. The wonders of life I tell you.
I nod, encouraging him to continue.
"Okay," he breathes out a sigh, "a few years ago, my family and I moved to the UK. Out all places in that country, we moved to Cheshire where Harry lived," he pauses making sure I'm listening. One small nod to assure him and he continues, "anyway, at the time I was eighteen. I wasn't happy that we had to move there, I had to leave my life back here in America, everything. I had no choice even after throwing a huge fit with my parents. I have a younger sister, her name's Sofia. She's around your age I believe, she was only fifteen when the incident occurred," the way he says 'incident' so spitefully, almost as a hiss.
"Believe me when I say that my sister was and is the only sanity in my life Y/N. This was the time I went through my rebellious phase. I was only eighteen, everyone has one. I eventually grew out of it, now that I'm twenty two," he half chuckles. I can tell he's having a hard time, and for some reason, I pity the man before me. I picked up on his nervous habit, the way he twiddles him thumbs around.
"I'll spare you the details about my troubled teenage years," I can't help but let out a small laugh. An actual smile that I haven't had in so long, in almost two months.
"Well we both had to adjust to our new life. Meaning new school, new friends. You know all that shit that happens when you have to move to another place. I started college and she went to high school. And I damn the day she stepped foot into that place because that's where everything changed," his soft features suddenly harden. His brows crease, forming in the middle of forehead.
"What happened?" I ask him. I'm intrigued in his story. Something about it just makes me so curious, I yearn to hear more.
"There she met Harry, Harry Styles," his bitter words towards Harry's name almost seem to even sting me.
