About (Harry Styles)

65.

Thank you for 50K+ Reads! xx

Barcelona - Come Back When You Can

Amber Run - I Found

Elaine's POV

The day after Harry's arrest, I sit in his living room alone, thinking aboutHarry. About what he means to me. What Marco means to me. About what I should do and what the right thing to do is. But like Harry said, nothing is black and white.

How is it possible for him to have done such a terrible thing?  It doesn't make any sense. 

He's known since the night he left.  He was with me the entire time on the cruise so how could he be responsible?

He's not, I remind myself.  He's not responsible for it.  Harry's a good person. He has a good heart. He would never do something like that.  Right?

My mind races back and forth, doubting then believing.  Doubting Harry's goodness.  Believing Harry's goodness.  I hate doubting myself.

I need to know the truth. Marco will have to wait for me. He would understand.  I need to save Harry while he's still here.

The front door suddenly bursts open and I jump out of my seat, turning around to see two burly men looking right at me. I don't say a word, the ability to form words from my mouth seems foreign at the moment.

Before I know it, I'm sitting quietly in the back of the car while the men in black try to maneuver out of the crowd that has appeared in front of the Harry's home. Someone must have contacted them to come and retrieve me. I'm not sure who they were, I'm not even sure where they were taking me, but they mentioned Harry's name and that's all I needed to hear to get my ass off the couch. Reporters are banging on the window as we exit the gates, shouting questions recklessly even though they aren't able to see me through the black tinted windows.

"Is it true that Harry murdered your best friend, Marco Miller?"

"Do you think Marco would approve of your relationship?"

"Were you aware that you were dating a murderer?"

"Are you going to break up with Harry now that he killed your best friend?"

"Are you leaving Harry for good now that you know what he's done?"

It's frightening how much the media knows with doing just a little dig of my background. It's even more frightening how invasive they can be. It's even more so now that no one's here with me. Marco's not here. Harry's not here with me. His hand's no longer around mine, giving me that gentle squeeze of assurance and comfort that I now crave for.

God, I hope he's okay.

We arrive at the station in a shorter amount of time than I thought. Many officers are standing outside the doors, blocking a few number of reporters meandering around here as well. The two men walk me inside easily since there's more 'help' here. Besides, there's not much they can do here.

They immediately lead me to the back of the station and sit me in a chair in the private room. The cold room is rather dim, window-less. There's a glass window in front of me and a phone right beside it. Across from me is an empty steel chair and my heart aches as I picture a solemn, low-spirited Harry occupying it. One of the guards leave without a word and the other gives me a pitiful nod before exiting.