Guns and Roses

FORTY-SEVEN

♛Cameron Dawson♛

The house I lived in when I was in Colombia was huge. It had twelve rooms, excluding the kitchen, bathrooms and living room. It was always pristine, smelling of cleaning soap and expensive air perfume. My room was the only one that had some sense of a homely feel. The house was above average and my parents were hardly home due to always being at the cartel and if they were, they were either in my father's office or in the living room where my father smoked a cigar and watched bull fighting on TV.

It was one of the many reasons why I made a point not to be home too much myself. I had no one to share it with except the few maids who couldn't even look me in the eye out of fear.

My apartment here was much like that, too. My thoughts often became overbearing and I couldn't sit in my room. That's when I go and race for fun, to let out some frustration. However, to wake up next to someone now, not having to deal with constant silence or only cook for one person, is something completely out of the norm for me. But I would be lying if I say I don't like it.

Having Harley here has made the place feel more like... home. My bathroom now has a few bobby pins lying around and my pillow has the scent of Harley on it. I get to see her first thing in the morning and kiss her sleeping form in complete adoration.

After the kidnapping, I've thought of leaving her many times. I've thought of putting an end to our relationship since it's my fault she's in this mess anyway. I've tried to convince myself that that was the best solution, that we shouldn't be together and should go our separate ways. But then she would smile at me and the option would fade away. I can't leave her.

I'm too selfish to do that.

I want to be with her. And whose to say that our enemy wouldn't carry on harassing her simply because he knows how much she means to me? Breaking up won't stop my heart from feeling this way which is why, together or not, Harley is a pawn to try and get to me.

She's my weakness.

I feel a tap on my forehead and I snap out of my thoughts, turning to Harley. She looks at me in concern, her hazel eyes sliding over my face. "You okay?"

I nod, running a hand through my untamable hair. "Si."

She nods at me, her eyes lingering for a few seconds too long before she gets up from the couch and walks to my room. I check the time on my watch and stand up with a stretch before following her. She takes a seat on my bed, opening up a notebook and starting to jot down points. I lean against the door frame and watch as her face adorably contorts in confusion.

"You know," I interrupt her "You've never shown me any of your writing."

She looks up at me, her eyes widening, before she shrugs and flips through some pages. "I'm still learning and improving but I've being struggling to come up with anything creative lately. I'll show you when I can think of something decent."

I smile to myself. I've got a girl with an amazing heart and soul, an intelligent mind and a stunning body.

I sure hit the jackpot.

"What do you write mostly?" I ask, having never asked her this before. She shrugs.

"Poems, short stories, one shots."

"Why do you love writing so much?" I also find myself asking. Harley cocks her head to the side in thought and stares at me.

"It was the only way I could escape before you taught me to race." She explains, the words heavy. "I can be anyone, anything, I want to be when I'm writing."

I look at the girl in front of me, wishing more than anything that I could take away her pain.

"You're a passionate person."