Animalistic | h.s

chapter twenty nine

Merry Christmas, wrote this short chappie for you all. Hope you like it, it was longer, but I cut a few things. Hope this story stays PG-13. :o Not edited

 

Harry's POV

The cab stops in front of my hiding house. I pay him and get out watching it leave. When I couldn’t see it anymore, I let out a loud scream out of nowhere. The chest vibrates when I take the screaming as my relief, but it’s not enough. My throat stings. I trudge inside in rage, my breathing going fast and the air catching in my throat. No one hits me; no one treats me that way.

I walk into my garage, inhale, and exhale the dust as if it was clean air. I walk towards the boxes and open them to find what I need for my relief. I can’t find it and head over to rusty locker in the wall, punching it open and take out the gun. I press it against the sensible skin of my cheek, remembering how that bitch slapped me. It took everything in me not slap her back for the sake of Flo.

I leave the garage, through the door that takes me to a long hallway to the kitchen. I open cabinets, my fingers shaking in need. I find the box of cigarettes and take one out. I hold it between my lips and search for a lighter. When I’m smoking, I walk back outside and point at the trees in the afar, shooting at them. Once, I bring the gun to my head to feel the hotness of the tip.

Maybe, just maybe, I could end myself and stop bringing people I care about for the mess I did.

I smirk and shoot at another tree. I won’t give Michael, Niall, or Zayn the pleasure of finding me dead. First, they die like their precious dead girlfriends and sisters, and then… I die.

After torturing innocent trees, I put my phone to charge and wait for it to turn on. While I do that, I take a shower.

The sun is disappearing behind the clouds, and there’s a thunder crack clapping and making the windows shake. I sit on the edge of the bed wrapped in my towel, with phone in my hand. I look at the wall in front of me – listening to the silence. I don’t like being by myself, I feel like I’m with other person who is me and I’m afraid of him. The drops of water falling from my hair falls to the phone screen.

A message appears on it.

So… what do you say? Answer me. - Mo Frey

She appears when I most needed to clear my mind. I smugly smile to myself and unlock to read other messages that are marked that I read them – which I haven’t. I knit my eyebrows.

Mo is inviting me to her party tonight and Liam wants to talk. I ignore her message and call Liam and lie in my bed wet, pushing the phone against my ear.

“Where have you been?”

“None of your damn business.”

“Touché.” Liam laughs, “Glad I have you in the phone, mate. Michael is in England.”

“Can you tell me how do you know this stuff?” I scoff.

“Well you know I know everything.” I can imagine him smirking like the idiot he is.

“Well, tough luck, Flo isn’t in England anymore.”

“Oh,” he hums, “Hey, I felt the need to remind you about selling those drugs before Monday. You’ve been the subject in the drug spot; everyone wants to see you dead.”

My hand slaps my forehead and I scowl in frustration. I forgot about selling those. I stand up, my towel falling to the floor, but I don’t mind though. No one is here and if there were someone, I don’t mind either. I don’t sell those since Mo isn’t selling them for me. Now, I put the money in and take them for myself.