Lennon.
“I know you’re not him,” Harry replied almost inaudibly. His tone made it hard to believe. I bit lip in order not to tear up again. My whole body felt strained, weak and unable to work properly. I could finally feel my limbs again, but the pain was still there and very evident. My wrists stung as the water lapsed into the cuts, I didn’t dwell on the thought of stitches although I knew it would probably be a wise move, I wasn’t in the mood for a trip to the hospital though.
“But you’re scared of me,” I spoke, moving my head slightly so I could look at his face properly. He dropped his gaze from mine and let his eyes wander around the room. I stopped moving my hands in the water allowing the room to fall completely soundless.
“The water’s probably getting cold now,” he answered hesitantly, still avoiding my hopeful eyes. I lowered my gaze back towards the water, which was now disappearing down the drain after Harry had pulled the plug back out. He left the room pretty swiftly, avoiding my question but the answer was clear as day.
I let all of the water drain away until I moved. I grunted as soon as I tried to pull myself out of the bath. I rested my hands on the side of the tub and tried to push up, and I managed it, however it was exceptionally painful. I whimpered slightly as I clambered the rest of the way out. I stumbled across the room to the toilet, my stomach and bladder had been screaming in pain for the last three days. As I sat down I let my hands rest lazily on my lap, looking down all I could focus on was the dark bruises and cuts which were so very tender. The very tender and prominent reminders of the worst days I had endured.
After I was done I sat back on the edge of the bath, opposite the mirror in the room. It was still a little steamed up but I could see my reflection almost clearly. I looked sickly pale, tired and malnourished. It had only been three days of solitude but I hadn’t eaten or drank in that time. My throat was red raw, I screamed all day as soon as they shut the attic door, Jasper came back hours later with a gag in hand. I tried screaming after that but all that came out was muffled moans.
I honestly felt pathetic for allowing them to get around me like that. I sat there and cursed myself for hours about how I should have used the pressure point technique on them, it had managed to knock Harry out, and no doubt it would have worked on them. But I wasn’t thinking, I was under pressure and just retaliated in probably the most inefficient way possible.
I got up and stood in front of the sink whilst I brushed my teeth, they felt disgusting and my breath was nothing to be desired either. It felt like a breath of fresh air when I breathed out the mint after I was done. I tugged away at the under garments I was still wearing that were now cold from being wet. I wrapped a towel round my body as best as I could manage. What hurt most was my shoulders, they were kept in the same place the whole time, I swear I could feel my ligaments being torn more and more by every passing second. They looked bruised and swollen now and the pain still more excruciating than ever.
Harry was sat on the end of the bed when I walked into the bedroom, he glanced up briefly before returning his attention back to his phone. I didn’t have any of my belongings, my bag was still in Dover at the house. But Harry was already one step ahead, there was a pile of fresh clothes next to him on the sheets. I picked them up and returned to the bathroom to change. It was a struggle trying to dress myself, which was frustrating, I was so used to be independent all my life I was too stubborn to ask for any help.
“You need to eat,” Harry instructed when I emerged from the bathroom again. I nodded sufficiently and followed him out of the room. He stopped just outside the doorway and allowed me to catch up. He turned to look down the hall before back at me and reached his hand out. I wasted no time in taking it and allowed him to support some of my weight. The blood was flowing around my feet but after being numb for days, pins and needles were kicking in, my stumbling almost made me feel drunk.
The kitchen was bustling with people, the girls were running around like someone had lit their non-existent tails on fire. The men were sat around, maps and papers spread across the table like a cloth. Harry led me through the commotion and helped me onto one of the stools out the way of the working guys. I had barely planted my butt on the seat when a bowl of pasta was pushed under my nose. “Eat,” was all Harry said and I didn’t need to be told twice. I downed several glasses of water and two helpings of pasta before leaning back and patting my stomach, which seemed to have grown twice the size. I resisted the urge to burp and help my composure.
“These need stitches.” Zayn had never struck me to be the medical one in the group but he was holding my wrists, inspecting them almost. He then pressed his hand against my forehead, an old fashioned way of checking the body temperature. He didn’t seem satisfied with his findings and walked over to a cupboard and pulled out an extensive first aid kit. The first thing he pulled out after rummaging around was a thermometer. “Open,” he commanded and I did as he said, letting him stick the metal rod into my mouth.
By now the room had grown silent, everyone was sat at the table watching Zayn prod me with needles and thermometers. I didn’t realise when he said I needed stitches he meant right there and then. He pressed a cold cloth on my hand, the stinging sensation it created died down quickly and the numb feeling to my limbs returned. I wasn’t even going to ask where they had gotten general anaesthetic used in hospitals.
I breathed out calmly as he pushed the needle through my skin repeatedly, closing the wounds up. He was done in little over ten minutes, just as the numbness was dying out. The thermometer dropped from my mouth as he tugged at it. Scanning over the numbers on the tiny screen he looked up again. “No fever, you should be fine in a couple days.” I nodded at his statement and swallowed the painkillers he had left sitting on the table in front of me, I was praying they would help take the edge of the aching in my shoulders.
Paul was looking at me expectantly after Zayn had put everything away. I looked at Harry who just nodded in encouragement. “They want London under their control, they want it to be run by one gang and one gang only.” I gulped at the realisation of my own words, I didn’t know the extent of what would happen but I could only imagine.
“They want to use Lennon as a weapon.” Harry thundered startling everyone with his tone. I grabbed his hand under the table without thinking, squeezing it out of reassurance, I was fine, he was fine, we were all fine for now. If we lost control of ourselves there would be no way we could control anyone else.
“A weapon?” Paul repeated.
“They want me to be like him, they wanted me to kill people.” They all knew who I was referring to at that point.
“Sick minded fucks.” Niall interjected, his language not surprising anyone.
“She’s not like him.” Harry spoke calmer this time.
“Sykes pointed a gun at my head in the house,” I spoke, mainly to Harry though as I turned my head to look at the perplexed man sat next to me. “I didn’t know what to do, what they were going to do. I forced myself to think I was studying them, or profiling whatever you call it. It somehow worked, almost. He pulled the gun straight out at me though, to stop me.” I admitted vulnerably.
“Is that why they locked you in the attic?” Liam questioned to which I nodded.
The room settled into another daunting silence, it gave everyone a small chance to gather their subjective thoughts. I didn’t want them to be scared of me, but for this to be resolved they needed to know the truth. No one ran away or even cowered at my statement, they knew what I could do before I did, I was the only one coming to terms with it.
“What happens now?” Louis’ question lingered in the air as everyone in the room turned to look at Paul who had his hands clasped together in a tight manner on the table top. My hand was still in Harry’s hand, he was gripping just as tight back. I could still picture Sykes’s face, the gun in his hand, aimed at my head. The image sent shivers up and down my spine. He showed no remorse as he held the weapon in his hand. If he killed me his plan would fail, but when you’re scared and the adrenaline rushes through your veins you act on impulse and not logic.
“We go to Plan B.” Paul affirmed. I didn’t know what said Plan B was nor what the failed Plan A was but the others all understood, nodding their heads in agreement. “With a few changes in mind however. Do you have any other injuries besides your wrists and shoulders?”
“No.”
“Okay. For future reference, as soon as you’re healed you’ll be taught self-defence and how to use a weapon. Not to kill, only to protect yourself.” I nodded back this time, it was a strange feeling to know they wanted to help me where as before they would mostly avoid me, but I couldn’t blame them after finding out why.
I was the so-called devils daughter, the walking form of evil. I didn’t realise what I was doing when I was ‘studying’ people, no one had told me what my eyes did before, I wasn’t surprised to now understand why people would turn away from me. But I wasn’t a killer like he was, but he killed straight after the stare, petrifying his victims with a glare. I didn’t realise how deadly one look could be. I was sure my glare was nowhere near as menacing as his, but it must have mimicked it in some way or another.
“As for today though, I think it’s best to call it quits. It’s getting late and we should think this through properly on fresh minds.” Paul stated with everyone approving. I was glad the conversation had ended, despite wanting to know what was going to happen, my eyelids were heavy and strained from the dire lack of sleep from the former days and nights.
“I really wish it didn’t have to come to this,” Paul sighed as Harry helped me out of the room. The feeling of helplessness returning, I was looking forward to being self-dependant again, it wouldn’t be long but the process would be torture. The pain would subside to a tolerable amount soon, it was only a matter of days. Good food, rest and care would help the process.
Harry and I both sat on the edge of the bed, our hands still attached together as if they were meant to be. I was biting my tongue, trying to comprehend my thoughts into coherent sentences. I wondered what was running through his mind, his thoughts differed from mine. He knew what the future held, what Plan B was and were we all stood.
“All my stuff is still there,” I finally spoke apathetically, eliminating the noiseless atmosphere. I don’t think he understood what I meant as he titled his head in an intrigued form. “My journal was in there.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what sort of reply I was expecting but his didn’t shock me.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault Lennon. Everything you wrote in their about me they already knew. They’re part of the reason the way things are certain ways.” I didn’t quite comprehend what he meant but I let him continue. “I’ll show you one day, but not right now. Do you want it back?”
“If it means going back, or any of you going back then no.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it wasn’t that great anyway.”
“I thought it was brilliant. Your words, language and how you decipher things from someone’s appearance is truly terrifying but utterly brilliant, I don’t think you realise how talented you are.”
“I don’t think it can really be called a talent.”
“It can be used for good.”
“Can it though?”
“Do you want to use it for good?” I nodded. “I’ll help you figure it out, as well as defend yourself, although you’re pretty good at that yourself,” he grinned, the mood changing to a lighter feel.
“I got locked in an attic, I don’t think it’s that good,” I chuckled softly, smiling at his beaming eyes which were persistently locked on mine. “How do you think Jasper is reacting? Or even Sykes?”
“I dread to think, but they won’t remain calm for long.”
“It’s always calm before the storm,” I muttered to myself. “Was James their first attempt at taking me?” It had been several weeks since the incident with James where he had tried to force me back to his apartment, who knows where I’d be right now if Harry wasn’t there that night.
“The first of many, they’ll be back,” his honest words sent shudders through my body. “But we’ll be superior, fiercer and quicker than them. You’re safe with us.”
I let his words sink in slowly but surely. I had never needed protection, growing up in London I always knew it wasn’t the nicest of places, but I was oblivious to the underground parts the innocent need not know of. I understood why Harry had always warned me about how dangerous it was but now it was surely and slowly unravelling itself. He was protecting me from the start, from myself, the truth and the city itself. His stone cold front he put up shadowed over his true identity, one if he showed would make him vulnerable to the treacherous city.
“It’s late and you need your sleep, c’mon I’ve got some fresh pyjamas you can borrow.” His hand dragged me to my feet and to the drawers near the bathroom door. He pulled out a pair of plaid pyjama bottoms and a plain white t-shirt. I gripped the garments in my hand and walked to the side of the bed I normally slept on. I lacked the energy to go into the bathroom so instead changed on the spot, he’d seen me barely dressed hours before, it wasn’t any different.
He climbed into bed before I did, he tucked himself under the sheets waiting for me to crawl under. I let out a yawn as I shuffled around, it had been a long day. He switched the bedside light off, enveloping us in darkness.
I had never felt the need to be held by somebody before. I never had to rely on anything, I was self aware, self sufficient. But lying sound by side each other in bed all I wanted was Harry’s arm wrapped tightly around me, keeping me safe. I didn’t know how he felt about me, how badly I scared him. But to me he wasn’t as dark as he thought, he showed empathy despite his anger outbursts. He was confusing, but it made him all the more intriguing, I wanted to be pulled into his world, I wanted to see him at his best and his worst, I wanted to admire his true personality and beauty. He cared, I know he did or he wouldn’t have found me again after our first encounter.
It wasn’t the normal cliché feelings, or the ways these things normally happen, in fact to one another we were closed off but we said everything through silent stares and thoughtful actions. I had never been fully loved, and I knew this wasn’t love but this was the closest I had ever gotten to feeling anything remotely close, or even feeling anything all.
“Harry,” I breathed out quietly, hoping he would still be awake. I was tracing pointless shapes on the bed sheets between our resting bodies. The moon was glowing through the semi opaque curtains, casting eerie shadows across the room, and distorting even the most normal of things.
His stare met mine as he moved his head slightly upwards, I could barely make out his face in the darkness, the whites of his eyes the only detail I could determine. He stopped my fingers skimming the material with his hand gently holding mine.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” He hushed in return, I didn’t need to voice my thoughts, he knew what I wanted, what I was thinking. I gripped his hand tighter at his caring words.
“You won’t, I’m fine.” I replied almost begging, “Please?”
“Roll over,” he spoke faintly but sincerely.
He held his arms out and helped me roll onto my other side, facing away from him. My shoulder ached from leaning on but I couldn’t sleep on my back, I never could and never would. He shuffled across the mattress and instead of moving me, he moved himself until he was lying right beside me. His arm draped over my side and held me tightly, the feeling I needed achieved. His other arm reached above his head and tangled itself in the roots of my hair, resting effortlessly on the top of my head. His fingers caressed small circles, tickling my nerves. I sighed contently and finally closed my eyes.
“Thank you.”
He replied silently by placing a subtle, gentle kiss upon my head, on the bare skin behind my ear.