Elaina Basset
Dear Mom,
I'm not sure what I'm doing...writing this to you knowing you'll never see it. I'm trying this out, seeing if it'll help me to not bottle up all of these big emotions I'm feeling.
I don't know. I guess I just need some sort of...outlet. Things haven't been okay. I left to chase normalcy and it feels like I've only gotten further away from that.
Denver was my personal hell after what happened. I thought that traveling across the world would get me out but it hasn't.
My painting is the one thing I'm holding on to. I'm getting really good. If you could see what I've done, you'd be so proud of me.
I want to be great, mom. Like you always said I would be. But I'm scared. I don't know if I'm capable of greatness. I'm scared that I'm capable of worse things.
I'm stuck in a situation that I don't know how to get out of. You have no idea what I'd do to hear your advice right now.
I miss you.
I miss watching you draw. I miss the sounds of your pencil on the paper. I miss the smell of charcoal.
We'll be reunited one day.
I love you.
-El.
I've barely slept.
It's Saturday morning, the sun has risen and all I've been doing is watching it through my peeled open eyelids on Angela's couch.
With my notebook and pencil that Zayn brought over with my other things laid out in front of me, my mind reels.
A gang.
That's what they're all involved in. They chose to join this life of criminal activity for some extra cash. It sounds absolutely unreal—like something from an action movie. But here I am, living it.
Last night while smoking with Angela, I asked to see her tattoo. She has it in a different spot than Zayn. Hers is along her rib cage, right under her breast. I remember her pulling up her shirt to reveal to me the small monarch butterfly tattoo.
The tattoo itself is pretty. What it stands for isn't.
I'm trying to wrap my mind around the fact that crime is like a second nature for these people...and now I have to help.
Whenever my head drifts to that idea, I feel nauseous. Not only does it go against every one of my morals, it could also wind me up in jail and destroy every dream and goal I've ever had.
But, being locked away in hiding isn't what I want either. Angela told me that hiding me away would involve me never leaving my 'hideout' and also starting work on changing my identity.
Somehow, I've been trying to find the positives to what's going on. There's not many. Sure, I'll gain a few self defence skills and maybe learn how to break into a museum here and there. Really, there isn't anything beneficial about this for me. I don't care about the money, as much as I need it. Compensation is not something I want if I'm earning it illegally.
I glance down at my notebook.
My eyes dance over the stale words that have been sitting on the lines of the paper for an hour now, waiting in a letter that will never be addressed.
I close it, hiding the words away.
Instead, I pull out my phone. Last night, Angela gave me the numbers of Niall, Harry, Liam, and Louis. I highly doubt that I'll ever need to willingly contact any of them.
I scroll through my notifications. Isaac has sent me a few pictures from last night. He went out with his friends, the same group from the beach. Followed by these pictures, were drunken texts of him telling me how much he misses me.
It feels weird to be hiding so much from him. It makes me feel like a bad partner. But, if I were to tell him about what's going on...I'd put him in danger, wouldn't I?
Maybe it's best to leave him in the dark.
Recognizing that I'm not gonna get any sleep, I sigh and sit up on the couch. My eyes are heavy from the lack of rest but my body physically won't let me sleep. I run my hands over my face and through my hair. Dressed in an old white t shirt and grey sweatpants, I stand up and grab my toothbrush and toothpaste from my bag before heading to the guest bathroom.
My hair was a mess. I still haven't showered from last night and I definitely don't look my best right now. I shake my head at my own appearance and begin brushing my teeth and then washing my face afterwards.
Feeling a little more refreshed, I walk out of the bathroom and back to the area where I was just laying down. The scent of coffee fills my nose, and I realize that Angela is up now, in the kitchen.
I walk in, seeing her standing at the kitchen counter with coffee being made in the machine behind her. Her hair is up in a bun, her body in the pajamas she slept in. When she sees me, she greets me with a soft smile.
I don't know where her and I stand right now. I want to set boundaries, but that'll be hard considering I'm involved with whatever this is now. After I came back here last night, we smoked and talked about everything. Maybe it was due to the fact that I was high that I felt normal with her.
I want to be normal with her.
But the circumstances don't exactly allow for that.
"Do you want a coffee?" she asks.
I nod, trying not to seem like I'm overthinking my every move. "Okay."
The machine finishes up with the coffee and she pours the steaming liquid into two different mugs. She puts some extra milk and sugar in mine because she knows I hate the bitterness of coffee.
"Did you sleep okay? I'm sorry I don't have a guest bedroom—"
"It's fine. I wouldn't have slept well if you had one anyways." I say as she passes the white mug over to me.
Her brows furrow. "You didn't sleep?"
"My head was all over the place, I guess." I murmur before bringing the mug up to my lips and taking a sip of the hot beverage.
I can feel her giving me a look of concern. I flick my eyes up from the mug, meeting her hazel ones as I set my cup down.
"I'm okay." I reassure before she says anything but she just shakes her head.
"I hate when you say you're okay when you know you aren't." she mumbles, then glances down at her mug and swirls it around gently so the beverage moves around inside. "Look, El..." she begins, "I know this is a lot. I don't want you in this situation and I know you're scared. But, I promise I will protect you. You helping us is merely for your safety and that's something I would never jeopardize."
My eyes remain on her face, hearing her words that sounded sincere. I have to keep in mind, Angela was my friend before I ever knew what she did. She was someone I had a deep connection with and cared about greatly.
Deep down, I do believe her when she says she wants to protect me.
"I know you want to keep me safe. I want to protect you too." I tell her. "But it's not you that I'm worried about."
She tilts her head, her pink lips parted. "Then what is it?"
I didn't know how to say this to her. I could throw a wrench in our friendship...
But then again, what bigger wrench is there than being a part of underground, mafia-adjacent organized crime?
I bite my lip and look down at my coffee.
"It's Harry."
The words leave my mouth and I refuse to look up at her reaction. Harry is her stepbrother, and she's known him longer than she's known me.
I know she said she doesn't have the best relationship with him, but he's still family to her.
I hear a sigh leave her mouth and that's when I look back up. She taps her fingers on the porcelain counter and looks at her feet.
"Harry won't hurt you either." she murmurs.
"Ang," I shake my head slightly. "I don't know how I'm supposed to believe that. He doesn't seem to give a shit about my life unless he has to."
Her eyes meet mine again.
"He isn't an...easy person. But, he doesn't hurt people like you...good people, I mean. He doesn't like people like you, don't get me wrong, but his targets lie elsewhere."
I sigh through my nose and try to accept her words of reassurance.
"Has he been this way since you've known him? Cold?" I inquire, watching her mind reel behind her eyes.
She pulls a short smile. "Like I said, he's not an easy person. That made our relationship complicated as well—"
Angela's front door opens.
With my heart jumping in my chest, both of our heads turn toward the abrupt noise.
In through Angela's front door and waltzing carelessly into her villa, came Niall.
Sunglasses over his eyes and car keys in his hand, dressed in skinny jeans and a muscle tank, he pulls a smirk when he sees us both.
"Morning, ladies." he says through his toothy grin.
Angela rolls her eyes. "You can't just come barging into my house like that. That's literally breaking and entering, you idiot." she says.
I sit in silence.
"I've done much worse, doll." Niall shrugs it off. "Do you have that package ready? Harry and I are gonna need it for later."
Angela sighs. "Give me a second." she says before walking out of the room.
No idea what package they're referring to, but it's probably better if I don't know.
Now it was just Niall and I left here in the kitchen. He strides over to where Angela was once standing and grabs her mug of coffee. He brings it to his lips and takes a sip with no hesitation. When the liquid hits his tongue, his face puckers up.
"Jesus, her coffee is always too sweet." he shakes his head with disgust as he puts the mug down. Then, his eyes meet mine under the sunglasses. "How're you, Red?" he asks.
I pull a polite smile and shrug. "I'm okay. You?" I throw the question back at him to try and be friendly.
"Good as I can be at 10 am on a Saturday." he replies with a grin. He's always grinning...which suits him because he has a nice smile anyway.
Angela walks back in to the kitchen with a brown envelope in her hand. "I don't understand why Harry couldn't have picked it up himself." she murmurs as she hands the contents off to Niall.
"He's in a meeting." Niall replies.
"Whatever, get out of my house now." she says with more annoyance than anger.
Niall smirks, loving how he's ticked off Angela. He waves us off. "Enjoy your Saturday, ladies." he says with charm as he leaves.
With Angela and I alone now, we could return back to our conversation.
Angela exhales under her breath. "He is the biggest pain in my ass." she says about Niall.
"He seems to be quite comfortable bothering you." I remark.
"I've known him as long as I've known Harry, so yeah." she shrugs.
I remember Niall telling me that he's known Harry since they were kids.
"So, Niall's known Harry longer than you have?"
She takes a sip of her coffee and nods, clearing her throat. "They met in school."
I seriously can't imagine putting up with Harry for that long.
"What about the other boys?" I tilt my head.
She presses her lips into a like in thought. "Mm. I don't know. They just sort of appeared into Harry's life and I had to go with it."
"Why?" I ask, sounding like a child who understood nothing...well that's how I felt anyway.
She looks at me, making eye contact.
"Because," she says. "That's what we have to do in this business...we go with it."
Harry Styles
I like the way Milan looks at night. It's nice to stop and admire.
I'll always prefer Europe to America. This part of Europe, anyway. Food's great. Music is nice. The lights are pleasing to look at.
Even when I'm half-drunk on a bottle of some Italian liquor that I don't know the name of.
I just left Niall's. We went back to his place after we completed what we needed to do for the night, and we had a couple of drinks. He offered to let me stay the night or at least drive me home, but I rejected it. I'm fine walking.
Sometimes, I just need to be alone with my thoughts.
Well, alone with a bottle of alcohol.
Besides, I'm not going home just yet. I've gotta make a pit stop first.
Walking down the road of some street in Milan, my feet occasionally scrape along the cobblestone. There's noises from inside different shops along the sidewalk. The people of Milan are busy on this Saturday night, all trying to escape their own realities of what their shit lives behold.
I should know.
I'm not even trying to be depressing, it's just facts. All of this shit...it's overrated.
Really, what are we all here for? In a completely non-suicidal way...what is the point?
As I walk I glance into a window of some restaurant. There are people smiling and chatting...but really, are any of you actually satisfied?
I hold the neck of the bottle in my hand as I step up the driveway to my 'pit-stop'.
Walking up to the white doors, I raise my fist and pound it on them. I do it long enough for the door to be opened and the person inside to be revealed to me, with a confused look on their face.
"Harry?"
I pull a fake smile, looking at the person standing in the doorway.
"Hey, sis."
Angela looks me up and down as I stand on her front step, noticing the bottle of liquor in my right hand. Her eyes scan back up to mine.
"What are you doing here? Are you drunk?" she asks with a slight glare.
I shrug. "Getting there."
She sighs to herself before stepping aside to let me in. At her allowance, I step inside, kicking off my shoes as I enter.
"It's not like you to get drunk by yourself on a Saturday night." she says as I walk towards the living room and she follows.
I crash down onto the couch, sitting on my ass with my legs spread and my feet on the floor.
"It's not like you to care about what I do on a Saturday night." I retort, bringing the bottle to my lips and taking a sip of the bitter liquid.
She sits down on the loveseat across from me, looking at me like I'm a problem she needs to handle.
I fucking hate that.
"What?" I tilt my head. "Am I concerning you, sis?"
She just shuts her eyes and sits back at my words. "Am I not allowed to be concerned about you if I was? You're obviously drinking to avoid something." she says.
My jaw tightens as I narrow my eyes at her. "Don't try to doctor me, Angela."
"I'm not."
I roll my eyes, chuckling to myself as I take another sip. "Since we were kids," I start, "you saw me as something you could fix."
She keeps her expression firm as she looks at me.
"I was one of your little projects, but I didn't let you work on me."
She shakes her head. "You weren't a project. You were this new person in my life who didn't seem to like me. I wanted to make things easier on our family—"
I scoff at that word. "Family." I repeat with sarcasm. "You mean your family."
She exhales a frustrated puff of air through her nose.
"Why did you even come here, Harry? Did something go wrong with the package drop off?"
Right. The reason I came here.
The same reason I'm drinking tonight.
I avert my eyes down. "The drop off was fine."
I clear my throat, biting my tongue and looking down at my lap. The alcohol taste was still present in my mouth, my head heavy and my brain loose from its affects.
As my step sister waits for me to answer, I look up from my lap, bringing the bottle near my mouth before I spoke.
"He texted me tonight." I murmur before taking a swig of the alcohol, looking at Angela for her reaction.
Her brows furrow, confused about my words for a moment before it sinks in and her furrowed brows raise slightly.
"By 'he', you mean..."
I nod, finishing her thought.
"Dad." she mumbles.
She wasn't expecting that. Honestly, I wasn't either.
"W-what did he want?" she questions.
"Don't know. His message said 'Hello' and I didn't reply." I shrug, as if it was nothing at all.
My father isn't someone I like to give much thought to. But, when he contacts me like this, then I have to give him thought.
"You should." Angela speaks, my brows crease together.
"What?"
"You should reply." she clarifies, making me sit up straight.
"You're kidding, right?" I laugh under my breath but it wasn't a laugh of amusement. It was a laugh of disbelief.
"Harry, he's our father after all."
She always does this. She always justifies his actions, as if she has a responsibility to defend him.
As if he didn't have the responsibility to stay and raise his fucking son.
"He's a piece of shit." I mutter, making Angela look down.
"Harry—"
"No." I stand up from the couch. "I have every right to let that text sit in my phone until I'm dead. I know that you had the perfect family with him and your mother, but not everyone has that luxury, Ang. He deserves my silence."
She looks up at me standing tall now, her eyes now melted into grief over what I've been saying.
"What if he's trying to reach out for a good reason and you're ignoring him?"
I exhale another laugh, looking to the side with a head
shake.
"Do you even know our father?" I say. "He never has a good reason."
I look at her on the seat, not saying anything. She never takes my side when it comes to him and it's not like I should expect her to.
He was a real parent to her, so there's no way she could understand. We clash because we see things differently.
I let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose with my free hand.
"I shouldn't have come here." I shake my head slightly, getting ready to go. "I don't know why I expected you to sympathize."
I begin to walk and I can hear her stand up and follow.
"Harry-"
"Angela, stop." I shake my head, turning around to meet eyes with her again. We look at each other, me halfway
intoxicated and the both of us fed up with the other.
I shrug at her. "Let's just stick to working together." I say. "Go with it, right?"
I don't look at her face after, turning around and leaving her in the doorway.
//
i cant wait to get more in depth into harry.