Caught | 1D AU

20.

The man was still moaning in pain. Harry's eyes flickered in his direction, then back to me, his forehead creased, still not sure what to make of the kiss. "Oooaaahhhhg," the man cried.

Harry turned his whole head toward him, "f.cking quit it!" he snapped. He rolled off me, grabbing his shoulder in pain as he sat up. I followed suit tentatively. Pressing my hands into the ground beside me, gripping at the soggy dirt. Almost, just barely, inching away. "Finley... please make him stop."

I swallowed. Make him happy. "What do you mean?"

"I missed when I shot him," he said. His hand dropped from his shoulder, finding my hand in the dirt, squeezing my fingers. "I can't think with his screaming."

"...Harry."

"DO IT," he yelled, yanking at my hand to get me up.

I stumbled up quickly and looked down at the man lying on top of the bush. Without his hat, his balding scalp and thinning hair was showing. The rain was starting to soak through my hoodie, chilling my bone. He cried, his orange jacket was wide open, and he held his stomach with both his hands. Blood leaking out. The rain kept trying to wash it away off his hands. But it drained down his shirt, down his pants.

I took a step closer. "What are you doing?" the man asked. "Please, save me, you don't have to listen to him. I just want my Ma. please." He howled an ugly cry. He looked around with crazy eyes. "The phone," he said. The phone, I dropped it, it's right over there. Please, he's losing too much blood, he can't hurt you..."

I looked behind me to where the man was looking. Sure enough, the phone was laying there, innocuous on the forest floor. Harry lifted his head, giving me a dead stare. "If you meant what you said, you will kill that man."

I nodded, licking my lips, turning away from the cellphone on the ground. What was I doing? "How?" I asked. My nails dug into my palms.

"That's a good girl," Harry said. My heart jumped. "He's a hunter. He probably has a knife on him somewhere."

I nodded, stepping closer to the man, looking him up and down. He started rolling over, and I saw a handle sticking up above the cuff of his boot. I squatted down and pulled it out, revealing a knife. Five inches long. Then he kicked up at my face and I stumbled back, falling on my butt. I held the knife tight.

The man was getting up, stumbling over the brush, getting a hold against a tree trunk. He looked back at me. "Don't let him get away," Harry said. "Stop him."

I walked toward him. He clutched his stomach, walking farther away. I quickened my pace, grabbing his jacket when I got close enough and pulling him back. He went with it, turning as he came back my way, and throwing his arm out at me, hitting my head. I slashed the knife at him but missed entirely.

"You're really going to do it?" he asked. I stood up straighter after backing away from him. Blood was pooling up between his teeth. He spit a gob of red out.

I nodded. I couldn't upset Harry again. Not again. I messed up by telling on him, and now I needed to make it better, make him happy, so that we could be happy. Together. How does that make any sense? My stomach twisted, maybe I shouldn't-

The man was lunging at me, grabbing for my hand with the knife. He caught my wrist. He caught my wrist, holding it between us. Holding my wrist, my hand, the knife in my hand toward me. "Should'a been quicker, girly." He forced it toward me, I tried backing away, but he just kept pressing on, leaning toward me, pushing the knife toward my chest. Maybe I shouldn't.

"Wait," I said. "I won't. Please! Stop!"

"Good try," he said, stumbling one foot after another as he pushed. The tip of the knife pressed into my skin, pressed against the bone of my rib.

Maybe I shouldn't. But I didn't have a choice. I kicked my foot up, he jumped his legs back to protect his groin, but I got his stomach. I pressed my foot into his stomach, into the hole draining red that was ripping into his stomach. I held my leg up, bending back as he pressed my wrist forward, digging the knife into my skin. Just like dancing. He let out a horrible cry as I pressed the toe of my shoe further.

He dropped, letting go of my wrist, grabbing at his stomach. My arm flew forward at the release like a loaded spring. I fell to the side of him. He'd forced me all the way back, and we were beside Harry again. Harry's breathing was heavy behind me. "Is he dead?"

I shook my head, not believing what I was seeing as I leaned over the man. The knife handle stuck out of his throat, the blade five inches deep. I sat back on my heels. Hot tears prickled out of my eyes. Gurgling sounds came from him, but he didn't move otherwise. "He's dead."

A warm hand touched my back. "Thank you."

I turned around and fell into Harry, holding my face to his chest, wrapping my arms around him. He groaned in pain. "I'm sorry," I cried.

His hand drew circles on my back. "It's alright. Everything's going to be alright," he calmed me. "You're safe now. I'm here." I would have cried in his arms forever, but then he had to say it. "Finley, you have to calm down. It's not over yet."