WEAK // (Harry Styles)

4

CHAPTER FOUR

CLAIRE

"Harry, please calm down."

I utter the sentence for the fifth time, as I tearfully watch him ravage the apartment from head to toe. He throws the pillows off the couch, digging his hands into the cracks. He opens the cupboards and searches behind the glasses. He unhinges the clothes from the metal rod in our closet, examining every corner of it.

Once I told him about my fall outside, and the hands that patted my coat, he figured that it was Niall. Niall pulled me to the ground by my scarf and put the note in my coat while patting off the snow. I try to tell him to calm down once again, and he freezes in the closet. He turns his head slowly towards me, and I pull the sleeves of my sweater over my hands.

"He touched you again," he says, his parted lips pursed and thin. A bead of sweat falls beside his face, and his back is crouched forward as he approaches me.

"His hands were on you again," he says, disbelief in his breathy voice.

"He was inches from you! And you're telling me to calm down," he says, chuckling towards the end like I'm crazy.

"He manipulated you. He tried to take you away from me. He drugged you! And he touched you again. Oh but sure, never mind, I'll just be calm." He mocks, and I cover my face with my hands. I did this to him.

"He could be in jail now! If it weren't for your misplaced feeling of owing him something," he scoffs at me, shaking his head.

It's true. Niall could be in jail right now. But I didn't press charges. I didn't even tell the police about the things he did to me. When they asked me how the drug had stayed in my system so long, I told them I didn't know how.

It's not because I care about him. I don't want to see Niall ever again. But I do feel guilty.

Before he met me, Niall was a great man. He was successful, sweet, awe-worthy.

But then, without even realizing it myself, I toyed with his emotions. He loved me, and I strung him along while I was figuring things out for myself. I was petrified of being alone. Before I came to California, I had spent sixteen years being utterly and desperately lonely.

And then I meet not one, but two amazing boys wanting to love me. And I chose Harry.

It turned Niall into... what he is now.

If I had turned him into the police, I would have destroyed everything that he is. His career, his spirit, his whole life. I turned him into what he is, and I couldn't bear to take away his chance of returning to his former self.

That in turn, drove Harry crazy. He said he would tell the police himself, but I said I'd deny it.

But if it really is Niall who pushed me to the ground and planted the note in my coat, I have to tell the police. I can't risk mine or Harry's safety.

"Please don't blame me," I say. He slicks hair back tightly, intertwining his fingers at the back of his head.

"I don't. But... he touched you again," he whispers. He sits back onto the bed, his head sinking between his shoulders. I lay my hand on his head, stroking it through his thick brown hair. He leans his head back once I reach his neck, and he looks at me, his green eyes cold and piercing like the icicles forming over our windows. They haven't been warm in a long time.

"We'll figure this out, alright? Together," I assure him, sliding my hand down to his chest. He shuts his eyes, takes a breath and nods his head.

"First thing we'll do is bring the note to the police station, and tell them about the note..." I start, and I feel my fingers weaken on his skin as guilt washes over me. Harry has spent six months worried out of his mind about Niall. The least I can do is try and give him some piece of mind.