Lennon.
A whole week, that’s how long it had been since Harry had made any sort of conversation with me. He would occasionally glare across the room, but that made it even more obvious that something had happened between us. Everyone knew something was off, but I was pretty sure only a select few, i.e. Louis and Paul actually knew what it was. Niall had tried to make a joke about the whole situation but it died faster than a fish out of water.
For the week, Harry slept in a different room and I was sure for one night he even went back to his own apartment. If I thought I was isolated before, I had no idea what this was. Since Harry was acting like I had just summoned the devil, everyone else felt the need to copy him. Not to the extent I was completely ignored but conversations were minimal and more or less one worded.
I felt stuck at a dead end, wondering when things were going to turn around. I couldn’t live the rest of my life here, like this, being alone. I spent almost everyday just sitting in the bedroom, doodling in my notebook. I couldn’t face writing anything at the moment, it made me sick to my stomach just thinking about Harry’s livid outburst.
I did wonder pretty much every day how the people downstairs could just go about their normal lives when there’s a girl, who they barely know sat upstairs, practically being taken hostage. I went downstairs for food and drink, but it was painfully awkward, I felt so unwelcome. I contemplated running away, or just walking out the front door on many occasions, but I preferred living in solitary rather than presenting myself on deaths door.
I had already planned in my head it was going to be another tedious day of just sitting on my butt, or hanging upside off the bed doing nothing productive. I showered, washed my hair, dried my hair, put on fresh clothes and then just sat back down. At least it killed an hour, just. I’d eaten breakfast before anyone else had even cracked an eyelid. I was starting to deliberately wake up earlier and go to bed later just so I didn’t have to see anyone.
My stomach grumbled though, it wasn’t that I wasn’t eating enough; I just wasn’t eating the right things. I would grab what I could easily get my hands on then run back upstairs – not the most practical way of doing anything. I clutched my hands around my stomach attempting to stop the unattractive noise that my gut was creating; it didn’t help. I stopped noticing it though when the door slammed open.
Harry’s hand was still palm flat on the door as it crashed against the wall. I cringed at the loud crash it made and jumped in my seat. He was breathing heavily, either he had to been running or he was angry. I bit my lip in anxiety, staring at him as I waited for an explanation to his fearful entrance. He stared back, his glass eyes looked fiercer than ever. I gulped down the lump in my throat waiting for his next move.
He didn’t say anything like I half expected, he continued to stare as he flicked his head towards the door, signalling he wanted me to leave. I got up and followed him out off the room, holding my breath as I did so. It was silent as we walked down the stairs. In fact the whole house had an eerie silence to it. It had been quiet all week but you could feel something in the air wasn’t right.
He led me to the living room. I felt sick before I even knew what was happening. Everyone in the room sat completely still as we sat down on the empty sofa. No one moved, no one looked at us. It was deathly quiet until Paul turned the TV on.
I screamed as soon as the video began playing. I was screaming incoherent words, shouting “NO!” at the TV as it continued to flash the images I never wanted to see. I was still screaming and shouting as I stood up, barely hearing what they were even saying. I thought I was going to be sick. Harry grabbed my hand, trying to pull me back down onto the sofa but I brushed his hand off with all my anger.
I was shaking my head, fingers pressed against my face in complete terror. I didn’t even attempt to stop the tears spilling over my eyes. They ran down my cheeks in constant streams.
The tape finished. I couldn’t hear anything around me. The blood in my ears was pumping so loud. Everything seemed like a massive blur. This couldn’t, shouldn’t be happening. I was breathing so rapidly I was nearing a panic attack.
Everyone sat in silence again, although this time they were watching me with extreme caution. Harry, in particular was staring at me. I spun around slowly, looking back at everyone in the room. They were studying me, waiting for some sort of reaction.
I did exactly what my heart was telling me to do. Without wasting another single second I sprinted out of the room and ran to the front door. I could hear the commotion behind me but I ignored it as I unlocked all the bolts and chains across the door. I pulled the hand off my shoulder, which was trying to pull me back. I whipped the door open and fled down the garden path. It was a long drive but I ran and ran. The adrenaline was pumping so fast through my body I felt invincible.
I could voices shouting and chanting my name behind me but I ignored their calls. What I didn’t hear was a car engine starting to come to life. I was three quarters down the drive when a car swerved in front of me, blocking the path. I stopped in time to change my route, to avoid the car. But the split second I stopped moving I was grabbed forcefully from behind and held tightly in their grasp.
I spun around, Zayn’s arm were holding me so tight my ribs were compressing my lungs, my breaths coming out in short, sharp intakes. I couldn’t escape, he was holding me uncomfortably firm.
“Please let me go,” I begged with a weak, but pleading voice. I looked up at him, tears still spilling from my eyes. At first I thought he was going to give in, his eyes showed compassion but soon returned to the harden stare I was used to. He looked away when Harry approached, slamming the car door behind him.
At first when he stormed over I thought he was going to slap me. Zayn released me from his constricting hold and pushed me towards Harry. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for some sort of impact. But the one came wasn’t the one I was expecting. His arms replaced Zayn’s in a tight hold, but this wasn’t a capturing hold, this was an affectionate hug. My breaths slowly returned to a normal pace as I remained in his arms, standing completely still. We were stood there for a while, not moving, not talking, he was just holding me.
“Lennon-“
“Harry, please?” I looked up at him, cutting him abruptly off as he tried to speak. My voice was piteous; my eyes were wide, begging him.
“You can’t,” he sighed, looking away for a second before returning his eyes to mine. “You don’t know what they’d do to you.”
“I’ll take what ever they give out.” I tried to sound confident but my voice was wavering.
“I can’t let you go.”
“You don’t even like me. You’ve ignored me all week.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know, don’t understand. I can’t let you go.”
“Tell me what I don’t know, help me understand. I have to go.” I argued back.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked at the group of people that had formed on the front steps of the house. At first I thought he was going to tell me everything. He turned to look back at me, his pupils dilated, looking more sympathetic than ever.
“I can’t protect you, if I tell you.”
“I don’t need your protection anymore Harry. I need to go.”
“You don’t even know what I’m protecting you from. It’s not just the East.”
“What are you protecting me from? I queried cautiously.
“You.”
“From myself?” He nodded in agreement. “What’s wrong with me?”
“There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re not the person you think you are though. You scare me.” He admitted, avoiding my stare again.
I stood with my mouth open wide, confused and taken back by his out of the ordinary statement. I scared a twenty two year old gang member who’s killed people, fired guns, covered in tattoos, and stands much taller than me, yet a nineteen-year-old baker girl scares him. Something wasn’t right. There was a piece of the puzzle I was desperately missing.
I shook my head at him. “No, no I don’t. Please tell me what’s wrong with me.” I begged, panicking slightly. I continued to shake my head feverishly. His arms loosened a little, he looked lost and unsure what to say or do. I was scared. I’d been scared before but this was different. It wasn’t like being scared of flying because you knew what to expect, or being afraid of the dark because you can always flick a light on. But this was different, I was in the dark and the light that needed to be turned on wasn’t there.
He still didn’t say anything, he looked lost for words and turned to everyone again waiting for their guidance. I turned to look at them too, but they all stood staring, no emotions on their faces. I had to break the silence, we were wasting time.
“Harry, please. It’s my mum. What would you do if you were me right now?”
He looked down at me, watching my face. Examining my eyes with his before he squeezed his shut and snapped them open twice as fast. He suddenly dropped his hands from my waist and at first I thought he was letting me go, but his hand quickly tugged onto mine and started pulling me back to the house. I tried to protest and dragged my heels but he reassured me quickly. Everyone looked at us expectantly as we reached them. Harry shook his head at Paul and took a deep breath before we walked back inside.
I didn’t know what we were doing, what was happening but I remained silent as we sat in the kitchen around the table.
“Pack your things,” Harry said after a while. I nodded and left the room, leaving the silence behind me. I could hear a conversation quickly start up as I left. I ran up the stairs, two at a time. I flew around the room, cramming my things into my bag. Shoving my journal on the very top before zipping it shut. I sprinted back down the stairs and approached the kitchen again.
Twenty minutes later I was sat in Harry’s range rover, he was driving and the seats behind were taken. The whole household and other members of the gang had rallied up and we were on our way to central London as a formation.
Sitting in the car gave me time to calm myself down before the storm. The East kidnapping Floyd was bad enough, but taking my mum was on a whole new level. I never spoke about my mum, to anyone other than Dom. He was the only one who knew about her, our relationship, my past.
She wasn’t all there anymore. I never really knew when she was her real self. She brought me up like any good parent, but unlike most mother’s she brought me up as she fed herself half a dozen tablets. Depression, anxiety, memory loss. As I grew up, she grew worse. By the time I reached eighteen, she didn’t even know who I was anymore. Her memory was so bad she could barely remember her own name. I could barely make enough money for the both of us, so she was taken to a home where she has round the clock care and I was left to fend for myself. I tried to lead a normal life growing up, but it was hard watching her fade away a little more everyday.
The nurses at the hospital told me when I was born she suffered with postnatal depression but it never got any better. At first she refused to hold me, look at me or feed me. She slowly allowed herself to succumb to my presence, but even as I was older, when she looked at me I never felt like she fully loved me. I looked after her the best I could but it wasn’t enough. I was only young myself and the pressure was tearing me apart.
I felt guilty for finally being able to breathe when she was taken away. I visited her until she didn’t remember who I was. The last time I saw her she screamed when she saw and called me an intruder. I hadn’t been back to the home since. I couldn’t bare the thought of my mum not being able to recognise me again. That night I drank until I passed out on Dom’s bedroom floor. I didn’t wake for two days and when I did, I repeated the process. I got over it, slowly but never fully.
Watching the video of the gang of The East, standing behind my mum in an empty open land was frightening. The leader was next to my mum, a gun pressed against her temple. Floyd was lying on the floor in front of them, blood dripping down his forehead. His hands and feet tied together with rope. A timer was in front of them, ticking away at the seconds passing by. We had just one hour to complete the trade or the trigger would be pulled.
What scared me most was the look on my mums face. She was so pale and fragile. I felt sick wondering how long they had, had her for. She was in her bedclothes, shaking like a leaf. Sweat gluing her hair to her face. She looked panicked, terrified but no different to our last encounter.
I swallowed the lump in my throat again, I was close to being sick at this point. I spent most of the journey thinking about my mum that as the car slowed down I hadn’t realised how much time had passed. We were in central London, in what I could only assume was a scrap yard. Cars were lined up everywhere. We pulled up from our side. What I had seen on the TV screen was now in front of me. The only thing different was the time on the clock. We had less than ten minutes before disaster could strike. This was going to happen, whether I was dead or alive. I had to save my own flesh and blood.
I grasped hold of the handle on the door but Harry pulled me back. Everyone else climbed out first, slamming the doors shut behind them. I stared at my mum as Harry spoke.
“Don’t try and be the hero. Stay safe. We’ll get you out. I promise.”
“You know, they say promise is a big word.” I replied, turning to face him.
He leant forward and rested his forehead against mine. “Please stay safe,” he responded, ignoring my statement at first. “And we’ll be there for you as soon as we can.” He pressed his lips gently against mine. But he pulled back just as fast. I wanted to ask him so many things, about today, this week, what was going to happen but he was already out the door. I followed suit and climbed out.
My heart was beating so hard it was painful as I walked towards our gang, facing the East. The leader cocked the gun, causing me to open my eyes wide. Floyd looked up, relief flooding his face. My mum however, she looked more confused and ill than ever. I shook my head at him, pleading with all my might. His eyes lit up when he spotted me, a round of cheers echoed from their side. He pointed down at the timer, then at my mum and then beckoned me over with his finger.
Harry squeezed my hand one last time until I was too far away from him to reach. Paul stepped forward with me, walking in step. I looked at him and he nodded reassuringly. We continued to walk until we met in the middle, stopping just in front of the timer. The East had brought the whole gang and maybe more with them. They were all most likely armed and dangerous, none of them looked at all friendly and they were all adorning fierce grins.
There was a complete absence of sound. Everyone stood still, motionless. I chewed nervously on my lip. Paul stepped forward as did the leader of The East, taking my mum with him. He kicked Floyd who let out a groan. He looked up at me and shook his head furiously. He was trying to tell me not to go, but he didn’t understand what it was like to look into the scared eyes of your own mum, who looked sick and didn’t even recognise you. Her life on the line and you were the only one who could save her. I didn’t know why The East wanted me but that was way back in my mind, all I cared about was my mother’s safety.
One of the members of the rival gang pulled Floyd to his feet by the ropes on his hand. I could imagine how painful it would have been. Floyd was then pushed towards us, Paul quickly passed him onto Louis who was ready and waiting. One down, one more to go.
He wouldn’t let go of my mum until I went directly over to him. I walked straight up to him, the adrenaline in my veins overtook any fear that was hiding within my bones. I looked over at my mum, she hadn’t recognised at me all. I should have been used to it, but it broke my heart over again.
“Let her go.” I demanded, gritting my teeth at the disgusting man in front of me. He let out a chuckle and grinned as he stared down at me. I prided myself in the fact I didn’t cower away from him. He wasn’t as tall as Harry, but he wasn’t far off.
“You’re a little spit fire, aren’t you?”
“Let her go.” I repeated, in a venomous tone.
“Come here.”
I closed the gap between us with a long stride. He shoved my mum away, falling into the arms of Paul. He grabbed my face with his dirty hands, prodding at my features, turning my head, as if he was inspecting me. He turned to face his men, grinning still before nodding.
“Start the engines.” He said before shoving me with such force I lost my footing. I was close to falling over before one of his men snatched me away. I violently turned around watching Harry hold my mum gently, watching me with his eyes.
“Make sure she’s safe.” I shouted over the loud voices around me. Harry looked at me sincerely and nodded. He then mouthed the words, ‘I promise’. It physically hurt my heart. I couldn’t escape now, she was safe and I wanted to run but I was being dragged into one of their cars before a fight could even start.
The door was slammed in front of my face and the car sped off before I could even blink. I moved my head to face the person next to me in the car. He was the spitting image of the leader of The East, he had the same disturbing grinning plastered on his face making me shiver in my seat.
“I’ve been waiting for you. I knew you’d come eventually.”