CHAPTER 13
HARRY
I've sat here alone staring at the fireplace for 4 hours. My eyes shifts once in a while, looking over at her easel, with her painting of Zayn still on it. I feel like my heart's not beating. My brain is dead. My lungs not breathing.
"I have to stay to talk to this producer," I say, interrupting the silence. It's what I said to her the night she was taken.
"Get home fast," I recite her, and I close my eyes. She told me to get home fast.
I got there 10 minutes too late. If I had just gone home with her, or if I had told her to stay until I was ready.
I didn't even think about Zayn, that he could potentially be of any danger. We moved to New York for christ sake. And she still couldn't escape him.
Her birthday is next month. She will never be 17.
We will never get married. We will never kiss again.
"I love you Harry, I always will." I cry from the memory. That is the last thing she said to me.
I will always love her. I can't... love anyone else. I can't be without her. But now I have to be.
A ding from the elevator forces my body to wake up. Niall walks slowly into the flat, with bloodshot, shiny eyes. His lids are red, the tip of his nose with. His hair points in every direction.
"You know, I always knew Claire would be better off with me," he starts, his voice shaky and unsteady. He looks awful. And the way he struggles to stand, I would think he's drunk.
"I mean I told her many times that you would just end up hurting her," he nods to himself as he moves towards me. He laughs a bit, before I see a tear fall. He leans on the kitchen counter.
"I never thought you'd end up killing her, though," he says, meeting my eyes with his.
He shakes his head slightly, and his eyes clench together as he starts to sob. I take my eyes off of him, looking back at the easel.
"And if you loved her like you said you did, this must be painful for you," I hear Niall from over my shoulder.
"But, no... You deserve to live with this. You deserve to be stuck with this feeling forever, because she's not coming back, and that is you fault Harry."
He's probably expecting me to get up from this sofa and beat the living crap out of him. But I just want to sit here, and stare at her painting. Plus, he's right. It is my fault.
Yes, Zayn killed her.
But he wouldn't have the chance to if I had to went home with her as planned. Another ding from the elevator appears and Louis steps in.
"Hey... Is everything alright?" he blinks with wide eyes, as he notices me almost lifelessly lying and Niall drunk as ever, crying over the kitchen counter.
"I saw the police cars outside... Did they find her? Did they find Claire?" He says with hope in his voice. He doesn't know. I'm not going to tell him. I can't say the words out loud.
I get up from the sofa, my body feeling a thousand times heavier and I walk to the bedroom, slamming the door shut. I hear mumbling of voices behind me before I hear Louis crying as well. Niall told him.
How am I supposed get through this? How am I supposed to live through this?
How dare you leave me, Claire?
I stare at the ceiling as my back hits the mattress.
Did you think it was okay to leave me behind?
My head spins as I try to fall asleep. For the pain to stop. But it doesn't. It eats away at me as the cries from the living room fills with apartment. A couple of other voices appear.
Fuck, Claire's parents.
Why is everyone coming here? I have nothing to give them. I can't fucking sit around and reminisce about what a great person she was and how much I'll miss her. I can't coddle them like babies. These people have no idea. But I guess it makes sense, this was her apartment.
I grab the bottle of whiskey that was left on my bedside table. I pour myself a glass and take it one go. She always hated in when I drank liquor. I get under the covers and feel myself heat up. I curl up as my muscles weaken and my head gets a little dizzier. I close my eyes and try to picture her face.
I try to picture her happy. Smiling. The last week of her life was a terror. I don't even know the full extent of how horrible it was.
This is my life now. Just constant existence without her.
I fade away into sleep as I imagine her laugh, soothing me.
•
NIALL
*2 hours earlier*
She's missing. I haven't been able to think about anything else since I found out a week ago. I had to find out on the news, Harry didn't even bother telling me himself. He knows I care. He knows I love her.
The three months I spent avoiding her calls makes so little sense now.
I spent three months desperately trying to get over her, and I never quite managed to do so. I've always had hope that she would realize that Harry's no good for her. When she comes home, I believe she will.
I freeze when I hear her name from the TV behind me in the hotel room. A reporter looks into the camera with a stern and saddened look on her face, while the huge block letter beneath her spells;
CLAIRE TOMLINSON FOUND DEAD IN NEW YORK APARTMENT
She reads up details as the images of cop cars outside her building appears. I feel my head drain of blood as I fall back on the bed, my eyes still on the screen. My vision blurs and the reality creeps onto my skin.
She's dead.
My heart drops to the floor as my panicked lungs consume me. Conjured images flashes before my eyes, imagining her lifeless. It hits like a blow to the chest and my eyes widen, my whole body entering a state of shock.
Strangled sobs escapes me I grab the edges of the mattress, feeling like I'll fall through the ground any second.
Sadness quickly turns into anger, when I think of how cruel the circumstances were for her. Zayn. Harry. The two people that ruined her life, and eventually took it.
•
LOUIS
"I saw the police cars outside... Did they find her? Did they find Claire?" I ask, hopeful for the first time in days.
I couldn't grasp the thought of being unable to help my little sister for the first few days of knowing she was in danger--I had to work hard to some to terms with it.
Because I figured that even though I'm overprotective, Claire is strong. She can come out of this, I know she can. It has to work out... it just has to.
I see Harry slouching on the couch, as he stares right ahead with a pined expression on his face. What...
I notice Niall sobbing on my right, leaning over the kitchen counter. He looks over at me and I can tell from his eyes that something is wrong. Seriously wrong. No...
Harry leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.
"She... They found her. She's dead," Niall speaks and the tear falls from my eye before I take it in.
•
HARRY
"Get out." I say, stumbling into the living room to find them all still sitting around the table. They look up at me with confused and hurt eyes, which aggravates me more. I slept for 5 hours and they're still here.
"All of you, I mean it!" I shout, pointing to the elevator. Troy and Johannah slowly stand up, but they don't walk to the exit.
"Harry, we have things we need to decide. We need to plan her funeral," she says gently and I lose control. Funeral? It's been 6 fucking hours since her death and they're already planning her funeral? No. No fucking way. I won't participate in this.
"GET OUT!" I shout louder, walking closer to them. They all finally get up from the couch, starting to walk. I get ugly looks from both Niall and Louis, but I don't care. I want to be alone. I deserve to be alone.
The doors slide shut and silence fills the apartment again. I walk to the bathroom, opening the cabinet. I take out her perfume, and get to the bedroom. I spray it over the pillow.
I let all my muscles loosen as I lay my head on the pillow, smelling her. I take the velvet box out of my pocket, where it's been for the last few days. I wanted it close. I clench my hand around it, pressing my fist to my chest.
I remember when I found her singing in the kitchen one night. She was cooking dinner and I had just finished showering.
"What are you doing?" I say, surprising her. She smiles at me and shrugs.
"What? It's my favorite song of yours."
"If I could fly," I start, filling the empty room with her favorite lyrics.
"I'd be coming right back home to you." I sing, hoping she's hearing it. Please, hear me Claire.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I press it against my ear after I accept the call.
"Hello?" I say, my groggy voice speaks.
"Harry? It's detective Yang, you need to come down to the station." She says, and I drag myself out of bed.
"Did you find him?" I ask, hopeful to see Zayn. To look him in the eye and know he will never see the light of day again.
"No... We found..." she starts before going silent. I stand still for a few seconds, getting more annoyed.
"What!"
"We found her will," she says. A will? That's... impossible. She was only 16, she didn't have a will.
Unless... she knew she was going to die.
A/N
I need to get something off my chest. I understand you guys can get mad when I introduce plot twists, deaths and stuff like that to my story.
But death threats are not okay.
Seriously, I know that they can be meant as jokes or something, but they are jokes I don't appreciate or like. So please stop.
Also; WILD is not finished. I plan on writing mANY more chapters.