Perfection» h.s

sixty eight.

Three Months Later. .

Pandora Gray

I have this horrible feeling, something bad is about to happen.

You have an angel's intuition, go Pandora.

As my eyes open, all the eye gunk surrounding my eyes bothering me, the feeling gets stronger, and stronger. "Fuck." I curse, rolling out of bed, the sinking feeling following me. How can things not be going well,the triplets are amazing, Michael and Jenna are still dating, and I'm okay with Harry.

What was the last dre—

Before I even get to the bathroom, I stop dead in my tracks. So that's what it is. For a few weeks now, I have been having the same dream that I had before I left for Amsterdam, Harry getting shot.

What the hells am I supposed to do?

I walk into the bathroom, pondering ways I can stop him from going out today. Ask him, dumbass.

________________________

     Hours later, I see Harry walking out of his room, and putting on a sweater, and I abruptly stand up.

"Oh, hey, Harry. Um, you can't go out today."

"Sorry mum, I am, I'm hanging out with Louis and Niall."

"No, Harry, I'm serious . . . you can't go out." I fiddle with my fingers, looking down.

"Why?" He leans against the wall, tongue running across his dry lips. I notice his expression change, to angry

"Because you just, um, can't."

"Pandora, you can't tell me what to do and what not to do! I'm going out, okay?"

Please don't. I mentally beg him

"Harry just, please listen to me, don't go, I just —" You can hear the desperation in my voice.

"You don't trust me, do you? You're still butthurt over —"

"No, I'm not," I know what's going to happen,Harry if you go out, you're going to get hurt,"

"What, tell me?" He tests, running his tongue over his lip. I stay silent.

"I can't."

"What? Sound of an untrusting girlfriend? Yeah, I thought so." He goes over to the door,and I wonder why he's blowing such a trivial thing out of proportion. Harry I'm your fucking guardian angel listen to me,dammit. He walks over to the door, and twists the knob.

"Harry, if you leave, I—"

"What, babe?" He uses the nickname cruelly as he turns and leaves the house. I sit on the couch, worried and scared, because it happened.

Just like the dream said it would.

Please let him be safe.

      It's been an hour since he left.

I'm in the clear right?

He's okay.

It's too quiet, so I turn on the TV and the first thing I hear is, "Man, named Harry Styles, shot."