YOU DECIDE ON HOW YOU WANT THE STORY TO END. THIS IS THE SECOND (OPTION 2) ENDING:
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(CONTINUED FROM CHAPTER 'SEVENTY EIGHT')
But I was not nearly as quick enough.
The blade slashed my arm deeply, and I made no attempt to howl a chilling scream, raising my knees to kick him off.
The man fell in a mess of rage, his face twisted in a dark grimace.
"You fucking bitch," he screamed, "you ruined ev--"
There was a clank, and the man's head jerked to the side, brain matter splattering onto the wall before he fell to his side.
I cringed and closed my eyes, my hands shaking.
"Evelyn, baby." Harry's voice was close. I opened my eyes. He was crouched in front of me, one hand reaching out for me, the other holding onto the gun.
I lowered my eyes to the gashing wound on my arm, blood dripping down my elbow. I pressed my right hand onto it to slow the bleeding, hissing in pain.
Harry used the attacker's blade to cut off a strip off his sleeve and tied it around my wrist. Blood and gore immediately soaked the cloth but I tried my best to ignore it.
"We need to leave," Harry insisted, his cheeks unusually red. "Before the rest come."
"Not without Niall," I insisted through gritted teeth, deliberately trying to hide my discomfort. I have been shot before but I am not one of those people who can get used to pain.
His face held strong annoyance and I spoke before he could. "We lost two people tonight. Two."
"And we can't lose another so let's fucking go," he pushed.
"I'm not going to die from a slit," I said, narrowing my eyes. I stood up, leaning against the wall because, as I realized when I rose, objects were spinning. "We should check upstairs."
Harry tightened his hand around his gun, giving me one last glare, before he leaned down, picked up the blade and handed it to me.
My own blood was slowly drying on the edge of the blade. I gripped it with a sense of terror. Knives were scarier than guns. With guns you simply pull a trigger; with knives you need to get close, and once you attack, I had no doubt that you cold feel the blade in the victim, which did not sound pleasant. I didn't ask to switch with Harry he is the best shot out of the two of us, and I probably wont even have to use my blade.
More gunshots resonated outside, and I wondered what the rest were doing; if they were okay.
I soundlessly followed Harry up the staircase leading to the second story, fully aware that the front door could open and we would have armed gang members pointing guns at our backs at any moment. I rammed the thought far away from my mind and focused on any noises that indicated anyone's presence.
Please don't be dead, I thought, referring to Niall. We already lost Nicole, and Zayn. That is already too much. Please be okay, fuck.
We reached the top of the stairs and Harry swiveled to face me, pressing a finger to his lips. My gaze lingered on him as he twisted to face the corridor. More booms sounded from outside but we ignored them.
Harry licked his lips, his eyes moving all over the doors. "Niall?"
We paused for a long, stretching minute but nobody replied. Nothing sounded, and Harry called out to him again.
When we received the same response, Harry pulled me deeper into the corridor so the stairs were out of sight and nobody who entered the house was able to see me, and he moved to check through all of the doors.
One in particular made Harry freeze in his spot. He stared emotionlessly into the room, then hurriedly closed the door, blinking in a rush before moving through the other doorways. He walked over to me once checking all of the rooms.
"He's not here," Harry huffed, his voice laced with frustration. He rubbed his face and strode towards the stairs. "Dammit, Niall, where--"
A clang, and Harry jerked back as a bullet hit him right an inch under the collarbone and just below his left rib cage.
I shrieked and rushed over to him just as he raised his gun and fired three times. The sound of a body falling didn't concern me as I sunk to my knees in front of him, tears already rushing down my cheeks.
"Oh, God, oh, God, Harry." My hands shook watching him clench his jaw in pain, moving to lean against the wall. "W-what do you w-want me to d-do?" I uttered, grabbing his hand.
"Go," he whispered. Shock filled me as he pulled the gun up again, clicking something into place. "I'll hold them off. Hide something. Maybe you can--"
"Shut up," I whispered, closing my eyes, "just, stop. Don't be an idiot. I'm not going anywhere without you, alright?" He opened his mouth but I beat him to it. "No, I-I'll take you to one of the rooms? I don-"
"The basement," Harry murmured, eyelashes fluttering. "We can...hold them off until the others...arrive."
"Okay," I repetitively whispered under my breaths. "Okay, okay."
I slipped my arm under his and around his waist, helping him stand. He grunted in pain but other than that showed no sign that he was just shot twice. He kept one hand on the wall, leaving a long but faint smear of blood, the other slung limply around my shoulders.
"You're gonna be okay...right?" I asked foolishly, keeping my fight tight. "You've survived gunshots before, babe." I closed my eyes for a moment, knowing I won't ever forget this moment--his arm around me, mine around him; in an abandoned house; lost with two dead and possibly another; his scent and blood filling my senses; his warmth unable to comfort me this one time. I bit my lip to prevent making any sounds, but I silently cried even though I knew that this was nothing compared to the wounds Harry has suffered in his life.
"You're--" I grunted as we reached the end of the stairs and he leaned into me a little too hard that I stumbled, "--stronger than anyone I've ever known."
"Of course I am, baby," he chuckled. "This--it's just a flesh wound, you don't need to worry about me."
I maneuvered Harry toward the back of the house, turning into a hallway where a door stood. I left Harry leaning against a wall, his chin raised, and opened the door before helping him inside.
"There's stairs," I said with a sniff, managing to hold myself together, "and it's dark."
"I can handle a little uneven flooring," Harry joked but I couldn't find it in me to even fake a giggle so I just hugged him tighter as we half moved, half tripped down the staircase, leaving the door open. I mentioned the consequences to Harry but he told me that I'll just close it after I set him down somewhere.
We reached the last step and I moved him across the ground. He began to drag his own feet, weighing me down but I quickly heaved him into a corner and carefully placed him on the ground. He put a tattooed hand to the wall as he helped himself, and closed his eyes for a moment.
"Please don't do that, I'll start panicking," I said, holding a strong seriousness to my voice.
"Sorry," he smirked.
I stood over him for a long minute, watching him take off his shirt and hold it to his wounds. My eyes gazed at his tattoos, and the blood drying up on his skin. I held back the tears. He looked fine.
"Why did you come here?" Harry asked without looking at me. I stared down at the top of his head, thinking of an answer that would satisfy him.
"I needed to see you," I said, hating myself for such a dumb reason. "And I didn't trust you to be safe here."
"So you thought you'd come down to help me?" he said in an amusing tone, turning to look at me with raised brows for only a moment. Gosh, he was so beautiful.
My throat closed up. "I didn't think much of it." I stood up straighter. "Also, I helped you down the fucking staircase. Be appreciative."
He laughed, making my heart flutter, and raised his arm. I walked closer, preparing to sit down beside him and under his arm, but something stopped me.
"Down here!"
Harry cursed under his breath and reached for his gun, placed by his thigh.
"Styles, come up or we're coming down!" a female voice called. I furrowed my brows and snapped my head towards him as more voices followed.
"...need him alive."
"Who gives a shit about what he says? Go down there and finish this off, you twat!"
Harry rose, his legs shaking, and I shook my head vigorously. He gave me a comforting look and moved forward. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he eagerly leaned forward to peer up the stairs. It took him half a second to spot someone and he shot twice, a cry ringing out.
I covered my mouth on instinct. Harry dodged several bullets as he moved off behind a wall to the side, muscles tight.
Harry moved forward again but more bullets sprayed towards him before he could do anything, and he threw himself back to avoid being killed.
Harry panted heavily, placing his hands on his wounds. He looked down at them, still bleeding. He turned to me.
"Eve," he whispered and passed over the gun. I took it quickly but I panicked. He spoke before I could. "There's one or two left."
"I-I--" I choked. "I'm scared."
"You'll...do fine." His eyes dropped. "I need to stop...the bleeding. Please, do this. You'll be fine."
Harry pulled me down just as more screams echoed from the house. He placed his hand on my cheek, leaving a bloody hand print, and stared at me with intense, beautiful green eyes.
"Baby, you can--"
More booms and clangs.
"--do it. You hit someone...right between the eyes on your...first go." He blinked, his eyes glassy. "I love you. And everything is going to be okay."
My lips shook and I pressed it against his before moving towards the end of the stairs. I turned to him--leaned against a wall, head bowed in concentration to stop or slow the bleeding, eyes slitted; beautiful--then turned back around.
I took a huge breath and held it. I gripped the gun tighter to stop myself from shaking. Then I stepped forward, caught sight of a leg and shot rapidly, at least four times.
The first two bullets hit along the shin before the owner of a broken leg jerked back, and the rest of my shots missed. I moved back behind the brick wall and checked my ammunition.
I only had two bullets left.
My face heated up in realization and I fought the urge to turn around and ask Harry what I should do. I paused.
Hurriedly, I moved back into the sights of whoever was there but I could see no one. A gritted voice huffed from upstairs and I took a step up. Then another. Until I saw the face of a boy who looked only a little older than me.
I raised the gun, aiming at his head. I shook as he turned to face me with a horrified expression. One shot was all it took.
I turned back and slumped against a wall, managing to keep my grip on the gun somehow. I breathed heavily, trying to erase the memory of the young boy. It was his fault.
"I think I got him, Harry," I said, looking down at the gun. "You got the girl, right?"
I rubbed my mouth and raised my head to face him.
"Are you okay?" I asked when he didn't answer.
I blinked, feeling my heart drop in my chest. "H-Harry?"
He was slumped over, his head bowed. His hair, long and messy, fell over his eyes, and both of his hands rested on his stomach, limp. His eyes--still holding the shade of emerald--was open and cold, staring at the blood soaking his shirt.
I choked out a sob. My head began to hurt, my heart pounded but didn't increase speed. I approached him slowly, the way someone would try to not wake another up. I fell in front of him, keeping my eyes trained on his.
My lips parted and tears welled up so suddenly that I couldn't see anything until I blinked, and they fell onto my knees. My body trembled, and I sobbed again. I whispered his name and raised a cold, shaking hand to his face. His skin still held warmth, but barely.
I leaned forward and brushed my cheek against his, wrapping my arms around his shoulders weakly. i made no sound as my tears dropped on his shirt.
The corrupted man that took me from an already corrupted world; the same man--the same boy--who stole and killed who took me because he thought it was the right thing to do; the boy whom I had grown attached to even thought he brought chaos to my life; the same boy who bought the house across my street and applied to my school in order to prove my love for him; the boy who labeled a sociopath but took silly pictures and played video games and held me. It wasn't real. It wasn't okay.
It was hard to believe that he was the one who lay here, without a heartbeat; the same one.
I held him tighter, feeling him once more. He didn't hold me back, and that scared me further.
Shouts. Closer and closer. I screamed at them to go away. Nothing was worth living for anymore. The only thing left that I cared for...was gone.
And I was going with him.
More shouts came upstairs. I told them to go fuck themselves and reached for the gun.
I pressed myself into his body's side, hiding my face in his neck. I could still smell him, see him, touch him, but it was as if he wasn't there. I didn't feel at home like I usually did in contact with him.
I sniffed and held the gun under my chin, shaking vigorously. Everything spun. I saw red.
I gripped him tighter. "Everything...is going to be okay."
I closed my eyes and saw myself sitting on the ground with a game controller in my hand, and him, sitting behind me on a couch, both smiling. A white flash. A boom. That was all.
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REPOST OF AUTHOR'S NOTE
This was option 2, and I chose to write this to show Evelyn's affection for Harry. It's kinda self-explanatory--Harry dies and she's upset, plus there was only one bullet so she wouldn't have survived anyway, like I said in option 1, there are unsolved questions here like 'what happens to the others' butttt that's, well, an unsolved question :) also what I said in option 1, yes it's a sad ending but did you think it was supposed to be good? I mean some of you were complaining of that the story was unrealistic...also I wanted this ending, don't think anyone drove me to realism or whatevs.
Love you guys so much, thanks for reading! If you liked it, please recommend it to others.