Therapist Report
This is my last week seeing patients in my sessions for Maritime Medical. My newest patient (only for Thursday) is Zayn Malik, coming in to talk about the loss of his ex-girlfriend. Usually this would be a conflict of interest, but it is the least I could do since I was seeing her previously.
I hope he makes a steady recovery with the next therapist I referred him to.
Allison McIntyre
Therapist for Maritime Medical
-
"So Zayn," she said, a smile on her lips even though she wanted nothing more but to leave her office and never look back. "How are you feeling today?"
He glanced around, ignoring her question and his eyebrows raised at the appearance of her space. "Going somewhere?"
Boxes were stacked up next to the couch and her desk was clear of all belongings except for her desktop computer. It was as if someone was moving in—or moving out in her case.
After days of deliberation, she decided to take a job at a research facility in Williamsburg. Allison thought it was best that she no longer saw anymore patients, given the... relationship she procured with Harry.
And that was another topic on its own.
"Allison?" She blinked, and reality clarified her vision as she focused her attention back on Zayn, who furrowed his eyebrows at her. "You okay?"
"Fine," she said, clearing her throat and sitting upright. "But are you?"
He sighed, leaned back into the chair. "I don't know anymore. I thought I was over Perrie, but I didn't know the fame affected her to the point where she would take her own life. I feel like it's my fault because I just assumed she was being jealous and acting like a crazy ex."
"It's not your fault," she immediately said, shaking her head. "You are not responsible for her disorder, and you can't change the past."
Sighing, he rubbed the back of his neck and propped his legs up on the glass coffee table. Inwardly, she cringed as he placed his dirty soles on the surface. Harry would never do something like that.
There I go again, Allison thought as she flared her nostrils in anger. I need to stop comparing my patients to him.
But she couldn't. Harry consumed her mind most of the time, even thought he probably couldn't care less about her.
"She was like my piece of home," he admitted, and Allison could hear the gnashing of his teeth as he clenched his jaw. "I love my girlfriend, but Perrie knew me before everything. And fame made me abandon her, and if I could take it back..."
It was quiet for a few moments before Allison saw him roll his lips into his mouth and close his eyes.
"It's okay," she coaxed softly, as she placed the tissue box in front of him. "Just let it out."
The first sob was quiet and almost sounded like a small gasp if Allison wasn't watching him, but the second one ripped right through her and it led to tears streaming down his face as he tried to hide them from behind his hands.
"It's okay to cry," she assured him, reaching over and rubbing his hand. "Crying means you still feel, and that's a good thing."
He was lucky. She hadn't cried in weeks, no matter how badly she wanted to.
—
Later that night, Allison was laying across her couch when a knock sounded from her door. She groaned, knowing who it was already. She had purposefully been ignoring his texts for a reason.
Another knock rang out more akin to a bang, so she hopped up and went to open the door. "Leave me alone—"
When the door swung open, she was shocked to see a tall, slender brunette woman standing at her door, her arm encased around a leather file case. The woman was fashionably dressed in a black trench coat tied snugly around her slender waist, black high heels boots, and a pair of leather black gloves. "Bad time?"
Allison narrowed her eyes in confusion, and tilted her head to the side. "I'm sorry, who are you?"
"I'm Emily," she introduced herself before pushing past her into her apartment. "And you're Allison."
"Um, what the fuck?" Allison sputtered, watching as the lady strolled into the kitchen like she was the one paying monthly rent instead of herself. "Why are you in my apartment? Get out before I call the cops!"
"Yeah, call them," she suggested, picking up the landline phone from its spot on the counter. "You can tell them all about how you and Harry Styles orchestrated the murder of your boyfriend. Or maybe just you, Harry's too important to let rot in jail."
Allison's blood ran cold and she swallowed harshly before huffing in false indignation. "I don't know what you're talking about, but you need to leave. Now."
"Listen up, buttercup," Emily's saccharinely sweet tone was starting to gyrate on Allison's last nerve. "I don't care that you killed your boyfriend, boohoo. But you need to stop whatever you're doing with Harry. Or it could get pretty ugly..."
"Ugly?" Allison repeated, her eyebrow raising. She peered at the front door and checked it was still open, just in case she needed and escape route. "You have the wrong one, honey. I'm not scared of you."
Sighing, Emily walked around the island and went through the drawer before pulling out a sharp kitchen knife. "You should be though, because I'd do anything to protect Daddy's business."
Allison made a beeline towards the door, not wanting to deal with a crazy woman with a knife. She learned her lesson from calling for help last time with Evan, and this time she had to save herself.
She ran towards the stairs, and to her horror, the doors wouldn't budge. "Fuck!" She slammed on them harder but they wouldn't open. The only other option was to make her way to the elevator, but it was on the other side of the hallway.
"If you were wondering why the buzzer didn't ring, it's because I paid the landlord for the keys." The slow clicks of Emily's heels sounded against the tiled floor as she sauntered towards the end of the hall. "And with the price you pay for this Lower East Side dump, you think you'd be paying for better security."
"Get away from me!" Allison yelled and when Emily got close enough, she doubled back and punched her straight in the face.
"Fuck!" Emily screeched, clutching at her nose as blood started to flow out. "You broke my nose!"
Pushing her out of the way, she ran towards the elevator and pressed the button. For the first time since she moved in, she began to abhor her apartment. The fact that each tenant had the whole floor to themselves, and no one could hear her yelling, and also the fact that the elevator was taking its precious time crawling from the first floor to the fifth.
A hand tugged her by the hair backwards, and she screamed before falling back and getting dragged back through her door. She kicked and struggled as she gripped the doorframe to not be dragged back inside. "No! Let me go! No!"
Emily picked up the first item by the door, which was a heavy, change filled jar and slammed it against Allison's skull, making her vision grow dark and blurry. Her hand reached up, and her sight was clear enough to see the crimson liquid on her fingers.
Although half blind, Allison tried her best to get away from Emily by crawling but she soon got her elbows kicked in and she collapsed on the floor.
"I never got to do the dirty work, but this is fun," Emily said, a sadistic smile on her face as she brandished the knife. Allison's vision went in and out, and her voice was distorted and sounded far away. "You're my first—"
Suddenly, her speech stopped and through her clouded sight, Allison's saw her hands drop the knife and go around her neck to pull at something. Her eyes were beginning to bulge out of her head, and try and fight back but moments later, she slumped down and fell to the floor.
Harry stood in front of her fallen body with a white shoelace in his hand, staring at her still open eyes. Allison gasped and scrambled back, as he took a step towards her. When she moved, her head felt like it weighed a ton and she couldn't even get words out to speak.
"I really have a bad habit of killing others for you," Harry murmured, before crouching down and closing Emily's eyes for her.
She couldn't stop staring at the spot Emily was laying at, not even when Harry called someone named Romanov to dispose of the body, not even when they doused the whole hallway and apartment floor with bleach, not even when they rolled her carpet up, and not even when Harry came to her side and asked if she wanted her head to get looked at.
She wanted to cry, she really did. But she couldn't. She was numb.
——
a/n: DO YALL EVEN KNOW HOW LONG I'VE BEEN WAITING TO WRITE THIS CHAPTER????
I DEADASS DON'T THINK YALL KNOW.
okay now that I got my excitement out of the way, I'm really excited for the next chapter. I know it's been so long (and I'm so sorry) but I've been super focused on school this year and I raised my gpa so that's something to be happy about.
vote, do ya thing and lmk how you liked it! aren't y'all glad Emily is dead? I've been waiting since chapter five for the perfect time lmfao
thank you,
Rachel