“This better be the right number this time, Lou.” I gruffly spoke.
“Haz mate, relax. We haven’t tried that many.” He reasoned.
“Twelve.” I sharply replied. “I thought you were supposed to be good at this sort of thing. It took you all of three minutes to find that girl’s number and address.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Louis remained silent.
“You know, the one with the massive..”
“I know, I know.” He cut me off rather curtly. “And I thought we agreed to never speak of the incident again.”
The phone was still held to my ear as I walked into my bedroom again, a mug of tea in hand. I took small sips of the steaming liquid, my gaze locked on the beauty still asleep in my bed. Her body now tangled in the sheets.
“I’ve got it.” Louis spoke up.
He recited off a number which I hastily copied down.
I didn’t really want to go through another unsuccessful phone call.
“Yep, says “Styles” on the database.” There was a pause.“Haz, you owe me one. If I get caught hacking in..”
“Mate, relax.” I spoke using the same tone he had earlier. “We both know you’ve done it before and will probably do it again.”
“That’s beside the point.” He replied, but I detected a hint of humour in his voice.
I placed my mug on the bedside table, glancing at Bo to make sure she was alright before walking from the bedroom to the kitchen. My nervousness was clear as I gulped. I knew Louis could tell.
“Harry, goodluck.” He spoke quietly, the amusement draining from his voice.
I hung up the phone, staring down at the numbers scrawled across the bit of paper. My fingers raked through my messy curls, hand rubbing over my face. All my fears came bombarding to the forefront of my mind. Rejection, my family not wanting me. That’s what I feared the most. I guess I had put it off all this time because a small part of me hoped that they would lovingly take me back. But I knew this wasn’t the case.
My heart sunk at the realisation this might be the final time I would speak to them. But I shoved the thought away, inhaling a deep breath and typing the numbers in to dial.
I waited for mum to return back from the shops, something about buying more tea bags. My feet aimlessly wandered through to the living room. She always kept the house tidy, remembering how she would constantly nag Harry to pick up his dirty socks from the carpet and how he would groan in complaint. I weakly smiled as my eyes landed on the picture that always stood on the small table in the corner. It was of Harry and I, his curls tousled as he had just broken out of my playful headlock. We grinned at the camera, my mum taking the photo.
I often wondered where he was now, what he was doing, if he missed us. It had been four years since we’d seen him, four years since he left. My baby brother, only sixteen when he lashed out at my boyfriend at the time. I shook my head, desperately trying to evade the horrible memories. We were shocked. He had to grow up faster than his years, taken on the responsibility of the only male in the house. It had taken witnessing Harry beat him nearly to death, for me to realise what a cruel and disgusting man I was dating. But it was too late. Harry left that evening.