"When I wake up, I'm afraid
Somebody else might take my place
When I wake up, I'm afraid
Somebody else might take my place."
-
Fear tournaments me. It paralyzes me. It creeps up my throat, poisons my blood, and crawls over my trembling skin.
"N-Niall-"
"What did you do?"
"W-What are you talking about?!" He's touching me. His arm is bent at a ninety-degree angle and presses into my chest, right under my throat, pinning me against a wall. Cold metal pressed to my temple, and my blood freezes throughout my whole body as I went stiff. I'm trapped.
"Niall, get off of her!" Candy yells to the blonde, her hands covering her mouth in utter shock. Meanwhile, Harry remains on the couch, drinking and quietly observing.
"I saw you," Niall grunts out. "You were running over to us, screaming for Harry. Then, a bomb just so happened to go off in the pit where you were at!"
"Wait- you think I had something to do with what happened?"
Candy speaks before Niall can. "Niall, I told you she didn't do anything! She didn't even know there was a race tonight until ten minutes before I showed up!"
I know Niall doesn't like me very much, but I never thought he'd be the one to slam me up against a wall and hold a gun to my head. "Then how did you know there was a bomb, huh?"
"I-I didn't!" I defend myself, but it's hard to think straight with him touching me. Get off, get off, get off. "T-There was a man, and he started talking to me! I just- I had a feeling something bad was going to happen, okay?!"
I turn my head and look away at how Niall laughs in my face. Too much has happened tonight; too much is going on through my head.
Ears ringing, skin burning, vision blurred, mind racing-
Too much. Everything is too much right now.
I snap. "Get off me!"
"Not until you answer my question!"
Before the tears come and the screaming begins, Niall's body is ripped away from me, and his lack of closeness allows me to breathe again and steer clear from the bridge of panic I nearly fell off of.
It was like Niall had his hands wrapped around my throat and watched the life slowly drain from my eyes. Even when he lets go, and I start gasping for air, every rapid breath I take feels so heavy. It's not an unfamiliar feeling, though; it's a feeling that comes with exhaustion and my lack of will to keep moving forward.
To keep living.
This is a feeling I push back frequently. I have people I love that keep me going, but that doesn't change how I feel.
Breathing is hard, and sometimes I don't want to do it anymore.
When I'm able to focus again, I realize that it was Harry who ripped Niall from me, and he looks-
God, he looks angry.
"The fuck is your problem, Horan? Didn't you hear her tell you to get off of her?"
Niall looks offended. "You're seriously checking me right now? You let her live, and she's been nothing but trouble, don't you see that? She's a liability! How are we supposed to believe anything she says? I mean- bloody hell! You were shot!"
"She didn't do anything," Harry says plainly, looking remarkably unamused.
"And how do you know that?" Niall challenges. "What evidence do you have?"
Harry doesn't seem to like this. His eyes narrow, and he zones in on the blonde. "I just do. Now drop it."
I hate to say it, but Niall is right. They have no reason to trust me; Harry should have killed me a long time ago, but he didn't. Harry has no evidence, yet he's defending me. He refuses to kill me and trying to figure out why makes me dizzy.
Was it something I said? Something I did? I'm not sure.
Harry's lip curls, and then he nods his head in the direction of the living room before looking back at Niall. "Go sit and calm the fuck down."
Niall glowers at Harry before Candy treads over to him hesitantly and grabs his arm. "C'mon, Niall," she mumbles and tugs him along. "Let's go."
"Um-" I clear my throat when my voice breaks and try to shake off my apparent nerves from what just happened. "T-thank you. Thank you for defending me. You should sit down, though; I don't want your stitches to come undone."
He waits until Niall and Candy have disappeared into the living room before speaking. "Don't thank me, Rosaline. Just because I know you don't have what it takes to be a killer, that doesn't mean I trust you."
With the absurdity of his statement, all I can do is blink. "What?"
He ignores my thoughtless question. "Who taught you how to shoot a gun?"
"W-Why are you asking?"
"Well, you took my gun, and unless you're a lucky idiot, you have impeccable aim. You popped the SUV's front tire, and the car flipped, giving us time to make a getaway. So, I'll ask again. Who taught you how to shoot?"
"My father," I swallow, nodding nervously. "He served for years. He taught me before he died."
When I was younger, really young, around five or six, my father came back from his sixth tour. Around that time, he started having episodes of seizures, agonizing headaches, and blurred vision. For a moment, he even forgot who I was. After dozens of long, painful tests, the doctors discovered he had brain cancer. His sixth tour so happened to be his last tour. Into and out of remission, I watched him wither away for years until I was ten.
I was holding his hand when he stopped breathing.
Before he passed, there was a point where my father just accepted his death. I could see it in his eyes, feel it in his touch, and see it in his kind gestures as he treated my mother and me like royalty. He knew he was dying, and there was nothing that could stop it. So, on his last days, he took me out into a field and taught me the ins and out's of guns before showing me how to shoot. After taking my first shot, I remember crying. The kickback felt as if it shattered my small hands. My father held me, kissed my forehead, and told me that pain was temporary. He also said that I would have to protect mom from now on. With tears in my eyes and snot running from my nose, I nodded and promised him I'd always protect her.
I didn't keep that promise, and it kills me.
My father taught me the basics of how to use a gun. However, he's not the one who helped perfect my shot; my stepfather did that. But he's not a man I feel comfortable talking about. Just the mention of his existence can send me spiraling. So, I keep my answer short.
Harry nods and thankfully doesn't push on the subject. "So, you were trained by a vet, and your aim is fairly decent, no? You had a clear shot, Rosaline, so why didn't you shoot the man? Why go for the tires?"
"I-I didn't want to hurt him."
"Let me get this right... You didn't want to hurt a man who was trying to kill you?"
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. What am I supposed to say to that? Nothing. Nothing because my answer would only make me look insane. I didn't kill a man who wanted to kill me because what if he had a family? What if he had a little girl waiting for him to come home? I already had my mother's blood on my hands, and I'm confident I don't want anymore. But, a man like Harry would never understand that logic, so why should I even bother explaining?
"You know, maybe you're right, Rosaline," Harry continues. "I learned a lot about you by running a background check, but not everything. From what you told me tonight, I know there's more to you than what meets the eye." He strolls forward unhurriedly, and he gazes down at me intently like he always does.
My eyes wander up his chest, tracing every tattoo, every birthmark, every scar, every divot, or the sharp edge of defined muscle and bone. My body buzzes with something new, something that's not dread, contentment, frustration, or hatred.
It's something I haven't felt in a very long time.
It's something I thought I was incapable of feeling again.
"What are you hiding, Rosaline? More importantly, what are you running from?" I begin to lose focus and lose myself in a sea of green and the blacks of his dilated pupils. A bolt of tantalizing heat shoots through me, and suddenly, I'm breathless. A shiver racks through my body, and my muscles lock at the deep rumble of his voice.
All I can do is stare.
"Ahem," My eyes snap to the right at the sudden intrusion, and I see Candy standing by the entrance to the living room. She looks back and forth between Harry and me before pointing over her shoulder. "You guys should see this."
I take this as an excuse to scurry away from Harry. My stomach is doing summersaults, and my cheeks are burning so hot, I keep my head low to hide my reddened skin as I brush past Candy.
What the hell was that?
I stumble into the trashed living room, and the first thing I hear is "Breaking news; bombs detonated in downtown Manhattan followed by a shoot-out and a high-speed chase." Niall stands before the TV with the remote in his hands, but my eyes flick past him to the flatscreen hanging on a wall with more than a few holes in it. It doesn't take Harry too long to wander into the living room as well, and he stands next to me as his eyes lock on the flatscreen."Warning; the clips you're about to see are uncensored."
The first clip looks like it came from a security camera somewhere. The video consists of a man who had stepped out from the back seat of a black SUV before he opened fire on Harry's black Bugatti at a red light. Then, the tv flicks to the following clip that shows Harry's Bugatti doing a 180, smoke filling the air as rubber burns before darting down a street. I can hear pedestrians screaming in the background. The only good thing about these clips is that Harry's car is cloaked in the dark of night, and the windows are tinted black, meaning there is no way of seeing inside the car. Even though it's tough to see what's happening in these clips, my heart still races. I even feel sick to my stomach.
The next clip is blurry and has low quality; it must've been taken on an older, more outdated phone model. The person recording is running and screaming after hearing the echo of gunshots, making the video spiral into utter chaos. Still, for a split second – I could've missed it if I blinked – the video flashes to a woman sitting on the windowpane of a black car racing down the street. Her toffee-colored hair flies everywhere in the harsh wind as she shoots a gun at the SUV behind her, popping the SUV's front right tire. The SUV catches air and flips before crashing and skidding across the road. The person recording keeps screaming, keeps running, and the video ends with a crash and a black screen.
My heart drops.
"This situation is currently under investigation. So far, there have been no casualties, and no suspects have been arrested."
"T-That's me-" I point to the screen. The fear locks in and nearly cripples me. "T-That was me."
"You need to calm down, okay?" Candy stands before me and gently grabs ahold of my hands when my breathing becomes ragged. "No one saw your face, okay? You're fine."
"Y-You don't know that- oh my god. Maggie." I rip my hands from Candy's and stumble back. Maggie. If I'm caught, I'll lose Maggie. "Oh my god, my sister. I-I need to get home now."
"Allie," his voice is like the eye of a hurricane; calm. I look to Harry, and he gazes at me with firm and earnest eyes. "Don't worry about that. I'll have this handled."
"My sister," I babble. "I-I can't lose my sister."
"You won't," Candy says fervently. "You won't lose anyone."
I faintly hear Niall rewinds the news and analyze the footage again with Harry. This is surprising since Niall wanted to kill me five minutes ago, but it makes sense. If I get caught, it's not good business for them. So, the two men talk, but most of their words are blurred through my heavy heartbeat and panicked breathing that rings in my ears.
Destroy any and all evidence.
Get rid of the car.
Get rid of the gun.
Get rid of our clothes.
"Her hair," Candy adds suddenly to Niall and Harry's conversation, and her comment unexpectedly drags me from hellish thoughts. She points to the TV that's paused on me, shooting at the SUV. " Her face is covered from her hair but, her hair could be something that makes her identifiable. We need to get rid of her hair."
Harry nods at Candy's suggestion before turning to me with a serious look. "You said you saw a man. What did he look like?"
"I um," I close my eyes and try to sort my thoughts. "H-he was a bit shorter than you, I think. His hair was dark. He had a full beard a-and lots of tattoos." My eyes flick back and forth as I struggle to think straight. "I-I can't think-"
"Calm down," Candy says again in a soft, velvety voice.
"You said he had lots of tattoos. Did you get a good look at any of them?" Harry asks, his attention set solely on me. "C'mon, think, Allie." He urges.
"Uh, yes. H-He had the number twenty-five right here on his neck," I point to the spot right below my jaw. "and I think he knew me, but I don't know him." I swallow, and shame courses through me when my eyes burn. I'm scared. "H-He knew my name, Harry. My real name – Rosaline."
-
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!
I love you all so, so much! I say this all the time, but thanks for the endless support. It means the absolute world to me, and it always makes me smile.
Please be kind to yourself and others!!!
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With much, much loveeee,
M xxx