Cleo Horan
"Stop laughing! God, I'm never getting high again." I groaned in frustration while Harry kept laughing at me, completely carefree as his cute dimples indented on his cheeks. "I'm fucking serious."
It was very hard to stay mad at him now, the sun made his eyes look the most beautiful shade of green and I caught myself staring for a bit too long... looking at him made me feel good.
His long hair was up in a bun because we'd been practicing and he said no hair pulling allowed because it was a low blow, so we both had agreed to it after he lost every fight practice this morning. It was too easy to distract him when he didn't have a gun, but he was getting slightly better.
He looked so much younger when he had just his sweatpants and a t-shirt on like today, he seemed comfortable... even though I knew that was the furthest from what we were feeling. Ever since he visited his father, he was even more stressed than usual.
Harry wasn't sleeping too well and neither was I, it seemed like we were in the dark all over again... like we were the only ones who didn't know what was going on, which made zero sense since we would be the most affected by the outcome of this mess.
He was back to work... handling whatever he had to do at the tattoo parlor or scheduling meetings with Zayn and other business partners, all of them drug-related. Harry was keeping an eye open to see if he could find anything related to the trafficking, but nothing so far.
Niall didn't say anything about my mother so I was going to enjoy this time away from her, she was probably still trying to pretend she was shaken up by what we discovered in my father's office, as if she didn't have worse files with her own name on it.
I literally felt nothing but hatred and betrayal, I had no idea how Harry managed to go there and face his father... he was stronger than I would be.
Desmond was so used to hiding things from his son or keeping this whole facade going on that it would be hard to find any clues nonetheless... unless Harry carried on with his suggestion of breaking into his father's office while he wasn't there so he could snoop around and find helpful information.
Not only helpful to us, but also for the FBI. And it would be harmless.
Amber was getting on my nerves with her whole waiting game and I didn't know how to keep this up. Their way of working was nothing like Harry and mine, and my anxiety was starting to become a little too much.
That's why I thought that getting high with Zayn yesterday would be a good idea. I knew Harry had called him to babysit me, and I certainly didn't need anyone to look after me... but I was learning that this was his way of showing how much he cared about me, not because he thought I couldn't handle myself.
And Zayn was a really great company, but I was sure he got me high on purpose so I would stop overthinking.
I needed to relax, and not only mentally. My body was still a bit sore and the weed helped a bit, but once I was completely aware of myself and my thoughts, I realized the things I'd said and done...
And Harry was doing a great job of bringing them up every five seconds just to piss me off.
"You looked so adorable trying to strip for me and then falling onto the bed and sleeping before you could even take your bra off." Harry cackled, playing with the knife on his hand before he simply threw it over at the improvised target we had set up near the tree.
And his aim was indeed very good, but I didn't like the competition.
He didn't even look at the target when he threw the knife, but when I glanced sideways to check where he'd hit, of course it was right next to where I had previously thrown my knife. He had that signature smug smile on his pretty lips and I had to take a deep breath to control myself.
Yes, I tried to strip for him last night, which was only one of the things I remembered doing that made me want to bury myself alive.
"I'll never strip for you again, you're an ungrateful son of a bitch." I scoffed. "I was going to give you the privilege of seeing my boobs last night."
"I've had the privilege of fucking them too, can't wait to do it again." He winked, pinching my cheek playfully before I slapped his hand away from my face, grabbing another knife from the duffel bag on the ground.
I was barefoot, and feeling the cold grass beneath my feet was oddly soothing... it was a very nice day to relax and maybe go for a swim, and I knew Harry had cleaned the pool early today. He didn't sleep at all apparently, I woke up around seven a.m. and he had already worked out in the private gym I wasn't aware that existed in this house, and he bought us breakfast as well.
Thankfully he drank black coffee like I did, he always remembered my preferences even if we didn't talk much about them.
"Shut up." I raised one eyebrow, reaching out the blade and using it to force him to tilt his head back when I placed it under his chin.
Harry's smile was slow and I slid the knife lower to his Adam's apple, seeing the goosebumps erupting on his skin.
"Make me." He whispered.
Those were very dangerous words for him to say... and I replaced the knife under his chin when I roughly grasped his jaw, pulling him closer to me so I could kiss him.
I knew I'd caught him off guard because it took him two seconds to kiss me back, but his hands were eagerly lowering on my body and groping me along the way as he moaned into my mouth. I undid his bun so I could thread my fingers in his hair and I pulled it tightly only to hear him moaning again.
"Hmm.. we could practice this all day too." He whispered against my lips, surprising me when he wrapped his fingers around my throat to keep me away from him as he spoke, and I ignored the soft pain from the bruises there. "You know, now that daddy's home."
"Fuck you." I pushed him away from me and glared at him, I should've known he was going to make fun of me again.
God, I couldn't believe I called him daddy while we weren't alone, that was so fucking embarrassing. And there he goes... laughing at me again.
"Yes, please... do fuck me." He arched his eyebrows. "And bring the knife too, I think you're better with it in bed than hitting the actual target."
Excuse me?
"Go stand in front of the tree." I deadpanned. "Right the fuck now, Harry."
"Oh, you're cute when you're bossy." He smiled, not hesitating at all when he made his way closer to the tree, standing right in front of it and adjusting his sweats... and I noticed the bulge there. "Eyes up here, Cleodora..."
I cleared my throat and quickly looked up at his face, tightening my grip on the handle of my knife and not giving him any time to prepare himself when I threw it, right above his head... and the way his eyes widened in response was enough satisfaction for me.
I made sure to hit the tree awfully close to his head so he could feel it... and now it was my turn to laugh as he walked closer to me again.
"Something wrong, baby?" I asked him.
"I know you're good." He rolled his eyes, crouching down near the duffel bag on the floor, and something inside caught my attention.
One of his guns was there... probably because he didn't bother to remove it, or maybe because he wanted to help me today. I mean, we hadn't tried last time because I felt very overwhelmed and I kinda overestimated myself.
But what if we tried today? Could I do it?
It made zero sense for me to be afraid of guns now that I knew the truth, I just wanted to be able to hold one again... without thinking of my father's death or how he taught me how to use them.
"Get the gun," I told Harry, and he stared at me with wide eyes, freezing as he was about to reach for another knife. "It's okay, get the gun. I want you to help me."
"Baby... we don't have to." He furrowed his eyebrows. "We have so much shit going on-"
"It's okay, I want to. Whether I like it or not, it's another way to keep us safer. If I can use guns again then it can be helpful. And I feel very fucking stupid.. still having this fear now that my whole life was pretty much meaningless." I had to take a deep breath when my voice cracked, and I swallowed the lump in the back of my throat. "I know you're gonna say that I'm allowed to feel like this, but I don't wanna feel like this."
Harry grabbed the gun, slowly getting on his feet and just looking into my eyes.
"Okay." He let out a deep breath, looking down at the gun as he unloaded it, letting the bullets fall on the grass.
I just watched him, trying to understand what he was doing and why.
My heart was beating faster as the seconds passed and I had no idea how to control it, I was doing my best to focus on my breaths and trying to remind myself that I could do this. I used to be very good with guns, and my dad being dead wasn't a bad thing anymore.
Maybe that was still the one thing I was having trouble accepting.
"It doesn't have to be loaded, you just need to hold it today. Let's not shoot or do anything... just hold it." Harry looked at me again, holding the gun on the palm of his large hand. "I know you're used to being around them and hearing the gunshots, but let's focus on you touching them... I'll hold it until you feel like you can do it yourself."
I just nodded, appreciating his idea because it was much better than just going for it. The last time I had tried to hold a gun I ended up having a panic attack and just freezing for nearly an hour. I just sat there in the dark, too affected to even cry.
"Okay," I spoke up, reaching out my fingers before I could change my mind.
I brushed my fingertips on the barrel, instantly feeling as a scary chill went down my spine and my heart was hammering in my chest. I was doing my best to focus and think clearly, but my breathing had already changed.
"You're doing so good, Cleo," Harry whispered. "It's okay, I'm here."
I brushed my fingers again, this time closer to the trigger.
I was sweating and I felt cold at the same time, having an overflow of feelings and failing miserably when I tried to control it.
"I'm fine," I whispered, mostly to myself as some kind of reassurance.
And now I dared to grab the gun, wrapping my fingers slowly...
But the memories came crashing in like a sack of bricks had just been thrown at me, and I was sucked into the same loop I always had to endure when I thought I could overcome my fear.
I was in that same chair... still tied up. I'd see my father kneeling on the floor... I'd see the gun... the gunshot that day was the loudest I had ever heard in my life, and I remembered the smell of blood.
I couldn't take it anymore, simply letting go of it as if it had burned my hand, and I stumbled back until I fell with my ass on the ground.
My ears were ringing loudly and I just tried to breathe, but the air just wouldn't go into my lungs.
It was the same pressure I'd always feel, suffocating me to the point I forgot how to even breathe. My eyes would get blurry and it hurt.
Everything hurt.
"Cleo- baby, look at me." Someone cupped my cheeks but the only thing I could feel was the tears streaming down as warm hands touched me. My eyes were screwed shut as I tried to erase the memories from my thoughts, but I was already spiraling down. "Listen to my voice, please. Come on, inhale..."
I tried to hold onto the voice, slowly following the instructions before I could get too lost to be found.
"That's it... one, two, three..." I could tell it was Harry now and I focused on his voice, slowly opening my eyes. "Exhale."
I let out a shaky breath, not even bothering to control the tears as I looked into his eyes.
Fuck.
I was so fucking weak.
I pushed his hands away from my face and managed to stand up on my own, turning my back to him before this could become too much.
Another fucking failure.
This only became more ridiculous, I wished I could force my brain to forget every single detail about my father and that day. I didn't want to feel bad for him or sad. I didn't want this trauma to follow me forever.
"Cleo," Harry called my name but I refused to turn around, walking closer to the edge of the pool. "Cleo, look at me. Stop, you did great-"
"Don't," I whispered. "I'm not fucking stupid."
"You're too hard on yourself... trust me, I know because I'm the same." His voice was low and it made his accent seem deeper, and I knew he was walking closer to me, I could always sense it. "The fact you want to do something about your fear is much more than I ever even tried. You should be proud that you're trying."
Fuck.
I just wanted to stop crying... I just wanted this useless pain to fade away. But I just had a feeling I'd be stuck with it forever.