COBRA 13 // harry styles

seventeen

Andrea Castro

Running. My feet were taking me somewhere far, as fast as they could go. My mind was in shambles, tears pouring out of my eyes, wetting my damp cheeks, my eyes blurry from the tears that kept cascading. I had sobered up immediately once those words had been spoken to me about my father, quickly carrying myself out the door and running from Harry's beckoning calls of my name.

It had all been fake. Everything I had ever known about my father was just a facade. He was definitely not the person I thought he was. Did he actually, emotionally care about me? It was all just a big fat lie and I hated him for it. I hated everything about him. I had never thought once of my father doing something so terrible and inhumane in my life. I always thought of him as a good, loving father who cared about his family and the people in his life.

It was making me sick to my stomach, my body heat causing sweat to drip down, as my pace started to slow down as I clutched my stomach in my hands, leaning over the side of the road, and vomiting whatever was left in my stomach. I retched into the grass, tears pricking the corners of my eyes as my face twisted in disgust. I was dry heaving, my chest going up and down, begging for oxygen. 

I backed away from it slowly, tugging my jacket closer to my body as my feet continued to carry me down the road. My bottom lip was trembling, tears beginning to fall from my eyes once again. I wanted to disappear as fast as I could. My mind was taking me to places I never thought it would go. I had to start over, begin a new life, and never speak to anyone in my life ever again. Everything seems like a lie to me right now. 

The thought of being blood-related to a sick human being who was the leader of the biggest human trafficking circle made me shiver and I felt the queasiness rise up in my stomach once again. Walter Castro was not my father. I refuse to ever think of him as my family, ever again. 

Of course, he was determined to be killed by Cobra-13, why wouldn't they do it? I wish I had been the one to pull the trigger, really. I wondered if the rest of my family knew about this, but it struck me that if they had, they would've been killed too. I could feel my body shaking, the cold air hitting my body making more goosebumps rise on my skin. My hair was whipping behind me as I stared straight ahead, the darkness from the sky clouding my vision, not being able to see where I was going. The trees were swaying back and forth from the wind as I continued to walk, the eery silence giving me a sense of peace.

All I wanted was some silence from the world. The bearing news I had received was too much to handle and too difficult for my mind to grasp. I had grown up with an insane, sick human being living in my house, and I looked up to him. I glamorized him and he made me think all he has ever done to the world was make it a better place. My jaw clenched at the idea, my hands curling into fists at my side, just thinking about all the things he had said to perceive himself as a good person. There is no fucking good thing about the fact that he's involved in human trafficking. 

I sobbed quietly to myself, feeling my emotions drain through me. I felt so empty and utterly alone within myself. Everything didn't feel right, nothing was ever going to feel right again. This fact had changed everything inside of me, my thoughts were dark and they were beginning to scare me. I felt myself entering a darkness that I don't think I'd ever be able to come back from.

I noticed a light pole coming into vision as I walked nearer to it, the scene of lights illuminating a small area on the road. It made me feel a bit calmer, being in the darkness at night in the middle of the road. My shoes scraped against the concrete, my limp body walking closer and closer until I felt a strong hand grab my arm and yank me towards them. My eyes got wide as they landed upon a scruffy man with a beard, dressed in all black.