WEAK // (Harry Styles)

3

CHAPTER THREE

HARRY

I turn on the lights as I bring her inside, my hand firm on her wrist. She stayed mute ever since she saw the note, and her face has remained expressionless.

I close the heavy steel door and It makes a heavy slam once it shuts. I type the code into the small screen above the handle, and it makes another loud noise once it locks.

Claire has made her way to the corner of the room, watching me warily. I walk to the corner of the room, where two chairs sit. I sit down on one of them, and I gesture for her to sit on the other, but she doesn't budge. I then pull the note out of my jacket and I place it on the table, and she approaches me slowly.

"What is this place?" she asks.

"A safe room," I say, and she tilts her head in a look of confusion.

"I started to have it built it after Zayn broke into the apartment half a year ago, but it wasn't ready until after I shot him. I kept it in case you were ever in danger again, and I'm glad I did," I explain, and she nods slowly as she sits down. She stares at the note, her wide eyes brewing with tears.

"I found that on the counter beside the door. Our apartment was broken into again," I say, my voice lowering towards the end. Is this happening again? This can't be happening again.

I look over at her, and she's staring me. Her lips part, and she stutters but then she covers her mouth with her hand, blurring what she's trying to say. I reach over and lower her hand, and I feel it shivering in mine.

"No, it was in my coat this morning," she whispers.

"And you didn't think to tell me about it?! What the hell Claire! If you saw this before leaving the apartment, why the hell-"

"Harry, please! It was crumpled up and I didn't turn it over, I thought it was a receipt or something!" Her voice whimpers, but it still manages to fill the room.

"How long was it in your pocket? Is it yours?" I ask her, my voice raising.

"No! I mean, I don't think so. Harry..."

Her shivers reach her shoulders, and tears start dropping from her eyes. Realizing how scary this is for her, and not just me, drops a pit in my stomach. Fuck, why did I get angry? Couldn't I have just shut up and hugged her?

Don't push her away. Don't get angry. Don't be paranoid. Just comfort her.

"Shhh, I'm sorry," I say quickly, rushing over to her side. I lift her up for a second, placing her onto my lap. She buries her face in my neck, and I feel her intense quiver all around her body. I stroke her leg and back with my hands, and she makes a fist in my shirt.

"Shh, you're safe Claire, nothing is going to happen to you. I'll make sure of it."

The room is about 40 square feet, but right now it feels smaller. I glance over at the note on the table, and in between Claire's cries, my thoughts multiply. Why was it in her coat? Who put it there?

It couldn't have been Zayn, I shot him. He's dead.

Right?

•

She's sleeping on the small mattress just left of the door, curled up in a ball. I sit on the other side, my back leaning against the hard wall. It's dead silent. We're in a locked safe room, but my heart still beats as fast as never before. Painful shivers course continuously through my body, and my muscles tense to the point where they feel like rocks.