note// because you guys are amazing, i updated again. (: thank you for reading. longer chapter for you guys because i really want to get to the really good parts, too.
The comfort, warmth of my bed failed to be sufficient for rest. I couldn't close my eyes and stop my brain from continuing to over think. Sometimes people aren't meant to be saved. Zayn's words are imprinted on my brain like a tattoo. Permanent and on occasions regretting.
I sighed heavily and turned on my back, staring at the ceiling. The moonlight illuminated the bedroom, my eyes having adjusted to the lack of light. Sometimes I think to myself that life isn't even worth it. The same old thing every single day. I wonder why God made other's luckier than some of us. I wondered how he made it so easy for them, but so harsh and painful for us.
Pain is like rain. It is long and heavy, sometimes a hazard to your safety. It produces beauty afterwards. It makes rainbows and gives life to all of us. It contributes to our lives, makes us who we truly are. It comes around often, and then leaves behind an ugly sky, and with time it reveals a beautiful beam of sunlight and color.
I tried to fall asleep, tossing around for hours. I peered at the digital clock by the end table, seeing it read one AM. With frustration, I buried my face into my pillow. In ten minutes, or what felt like it, my eyes began to feel heavy. My breath slowed down, my bones tiresome and lazy. I felt content for a second until the blast of a loud sound cracked through.
I shot up with my breath in my throat. My eyes flew open and I stumbled to get out of my bed. It was a bullet. Sounds clear and as terrifying as those are bullets. The sounds I heard back in the small consession store. Bare feet on wood, I sprinted towards the door.
Before I opened it, Paige had been on the other side and burst through it. Our wide eyes met each other. She seemed to be walking perfectly fine, evidently assuring me she was lying about being injured. She breathed out, "What was that?"
Terror controlled me as I quietly said, "It sounds like a bullet."
Chills rushed up my spine, leaving trails of goosebumps to spread across my skin. Suddenly, there were footsteps and shouts following from down the hallway. I grabbed Paige's arm and pulled her into my bedroom, shutting the door quickly and locking it. I frantically ran with her into the closet, for the safety of us both.
Paige covered her mouth as yelling and things crashing to floors, glass bursting followed. I did the same with both hands, crouched in the dark closet. We both heard the doorknob of my bedroom begin to shake roughly, a loud slam of a hand followed by yells to open the door. I couldn't recognize the voice under so much fear and terror, but Paige quickly opened the closet door and began to crawl out.
I reached over and grabbed her leg, trying to stop her. She kicked me off and shook her head, hissing, "It's Zayn!"
I heard a slam and suddenly a raspy, loud, and angry voice screamed, "Zayn! Have you got any idea who fired that bullet!?"
"Not a clue, man! Paige isn't in her bedroom and Catalina's room is locked."
Soon, I heard Harry's voice and a slam on the door. "Open up, Catalina!"
Paige stumbled and stood with a bit of struggle. With fumbling fingers, she inhaled deeply and opened the bedroom, swinging the door fast. Immediately, she through herself into Zayn's arm. Quite stunned, he reacted slowly before attempting to comfort her by wrapping his arms around her in assurance.
Harry gazed at me with those piercing green eyes, jaw clenched as if he was angry with me. However, I knew he wasn't, so I began to crawl out of the closet and stand to my feet. I was breathing heavily from terror still. Somehow, Harry's appearance made me calmer than before, knowing in the hands of someone as experienced as Harry, there was a chance I wouldn't get hurt tonight.
He took his eyes off me and spoke into the ear piece, holding his hand to his ear. "Liam, have you got the sound wave calculations of that bullet?" After a pause, Harry quickly turned to Zayn. "It was a long-range gun. Most likely an M24. American sniper. Liam says it was from at least four hundred yards."
"Where did it land?" Zayn inquired steadily, with Paige still pressed against his chest and refusing to let him go.
I stood with my arms crossed over my chest, practically shaking. Harry replied lowly with, "It burst through Mr. Gates' window. They aimed for his head, but he had bent over just when it fired."
My chest constricted slowly. They nearly killed my father from four hundred yards away. He was lucky enough to have avoided it by a second. One lucky, horrifyingly close second. I gulped down the painful lump in my throat and realized that Zayn was leading Paige down the hallway, and Harry turned to look at me.
"Someone tried to kill him, and until we figure out who did it, I need you to start packing just in case. There is no doubt someone already knows we're here," he explained lowly, failing to reveal any fear or emotion as usual. I quietly nodded my head, staring down at the floorboards before I heard him make it to me with only a couple of strides.
I snapped my head up just as he grabbed my chin. The hold was firm, yet much more gentler than he has been with me before.
"I need an answer," he firmly demanded, our eyes locked.
He was still, green eyes deeply waiting for mine to show some sort of confirmation. His distance wasn't personal, but the gesture made me feel like he was somewhat trying to comfort me. However, he clearly isn't used to it. And maybe this wasn't comfort, it was so that I could get it through my head possibly.
"Okay. I'll start packing," I hoarsely said.
Harry watched me for a few seconds, sighing heavily. "Just sleep. Pack later. You need to rest. I'll lock every window." He removed his grip and proceeded towards my windows. First he glanced out, examining the area before beginning to lock them down and close curtains.
I slid back into the bed, closing my eyes and hearing the soft, almost soundless footsteps that belonged to him.
+
There was a lot of rushing. Angry orders back and forth, things being knocked over, and objects breaking. The second I woke up, men were guarding every inch of the yard, the lawn, the gates, and the area of the fense. It was chaos. No one knew what was happening exactly, and as I asked a couple of the men they refused to share any information with me. Probably orders from my father and Harry himself.
Paige ran up to me, breathlessly spitting out, "I'm being relocated to England."
My eyes widened by the new information. "What? Who told you?"
"I eavesdropped on their meeting. I'm moving with grandma for a really long time until this is all over." She explained to me, attempting to regain composure of her breath. Paige shook her head, placing her hands on her hips. "Zayn," she inhaled, "-- is going to New York with that Liam guy. They're getting the names of all the mafias involved in the hunt."
I frowned. "What's going to happen with me then?"
"You're staying with Harry somewhere. I couldn't hear. Dad's going to Hawaii to make orders from safer ground, I think."
This is what I didn't like. We were all relocated to different areas on certain occasions when things got bad. It was maddening to keep track of each other, but that's what my father wants. To lose them with different locations. I'll probably be hiding for months now, not being able to leave a room until it's all over. When is my question.
Just like that, Paige rushed up the stairs to get her things together. She was mainly excited to leave Italy and settle in a more permenant place. She's not the one they are looking for, therefore she's probably careless as to her safety. I envied her for her carefree attitude and her role in this situation. My life is on the line, and I don't think it's set in yet.
Harry made his way out from the room furthest down the hall. The room where they held all their meetings. He saw me standing there in pijama pants and a tank top. I stopped him from moving past me, placing my hand on his chest.
He peeked at the hand on his chest, but I refused to acknowledge whatever distance he pleased between us. I peered up at him with worry. "What's going on?" I asked quietly. I'm in need of reassurance. Someone to tell me everything's fine.
"We're relocating everyone." He replied flatly, looking ahead of himself. "I need you to get ready and start packing. The Russians were the ones here last night. Liam retraced the origin of the bullets used, and they belonged to a Russian mafia."
My breath hitched in my throat. It wasn't just a few organizations. There were dozens and dozens looking for me. Harry saw my terror, yet he only said, "Go now. And quickly. In an hour we need to be flying out of here."
"To where?"
"Leave that to me. Now go." He said more firmly.
In the urge to get ready, I jogged up the stairs and into my bedroom. I opened drawers and drawers of clothes. I grabbed the handle of my luggage and tossed it onto the bed. There was no need to fold anything, nor was there time. I hurried to get dressed. I threw on a t-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans with a pair of Vans.
Finishing packing, I zipped up the luggage and jogged into the bathroom to brush out my hair. With fumbling fingers, I managed to brush out the knots in my blonde hair, going to grab an elastic and tie it up when I heard glass break seconds away from me.
I gasped and dropped my arms from my hair and froze. There was a figure standing at the window, brushing off glass from his shirt. He was a black ski mask, black sweater that was folded up on his elbows, allowing his strong forearms to show. He was strong and tall. A small blonde curl poked out from the back of the ski mask. I felt a chill and my heart stopped beating.
My arms went to shoot forward and close the bathroom door. I closed it as quietly as I could, locking it and quickly backing away from it. Beginning to breathe rapidly, I wrapped my arms around myself in fear, backing up until I hit the wall. I stared at the door, eyes wide and now fully paralized.
A few seconds went buy until the man tried for the door. Upon realizing it was locked, I heard him chuckle to himself. The deep, menacing sound made my eyes water with absolute terror. He knew I was in here. He had seen me through the window possibly. And he clearly didn't care if I'd hear him, because he made his entrance loud enough for me to hear.
I sniffled and whimpered as he banged against the door loudly. He grunted in frustration after a few times. Each bang was like a countdown to my end. Or so it felt like it. He would hit it harder and harder every time. The lock was going to give up, I could tell. At the edges of the door, the ends and the outline in the wall didn't meet. He was breaking the door.
He was going to get through. I didn't know what to do but to crawl into the shower and close it. I sniffled and placed my hands over my mouth to stop the sounds of my heavy breaths or any sobs from escaping my lips. I tried to remain quiet as I heard him smash through the door.
His footsteps were loud and terrifying. He slammed through some cabinets and a few things fell to the floor. The man in the black ski mask slowly made his way to the shower as I pulled my legs to my chest, teary eyes waiting until he'd open the latch.
The beating of my heart was surreal. I've never experienced fear in such a raw form before. Unlike any, no fear is more real than the one you feel at death's toll.
I couldn't stop myself from screaming. The second the man slammed the shower open, I screamed so loud my throat was ripped from the muscle and would be sore for days. At this, the man dipped down and grabbed my arm, tugging me harshly to him. He'd never make it out. He just can't. Too many people have already heard that.
My screams didn't cease until he had smacked his hand against my cheek. I gasped in pain, feeling it numb almost completely already. Holding my cheek, I was being dragged as I continued to kick and shriek out for help. Harry's name flew from my mouth repeatedly, aching with pain and fear. I needed him to be here and save me.
The bedroom door slammed open to reveal Zayn first and a couple other men, of which included Harry. I coughed through a sob just as I made eye contact with Zayn, and he clenched his jaw and glared furiously at the man. He raised his gun, along with the other men around him. Harry, however, moved off to the side and stood there with his hand grasping the gun until his knuckles flushed white.
His narrowed green eyes were filled with anger, darkened with concentration and the rage to kill. The man who held me stopped and turned to face them all. I chose the moment of surprise, slamming my foot into the man's crotch to inflict pain. Eventually he fell to the ground in pain and I took the opportunity to rush behind Harry.
I felt an enourmous relief as he grabbed my arm and gently pulled me further behind him. The men behind Zayn sprinted towards the man and held him down with their guns and fists. Then, Zayn glanced at Harry for orders, which he had replied with, "Medicate him. Put him to sleep and use him for the interrogation in New York. Any information you get from him, report to Mr. Gates and he'll report to me. Clear?"
"Yes, sir," Zayn sighed, putting his gun down and walking towards the man. Before I had a chance to see how they'd medicate him, Harry grabbed my arm and led me outside. Behind us, one of the men had been carrying my luggage and turned towards the main foyer as Harry led me to the kitchen.
He quietly stared at my face for a straight ten seconds. The same eyebrows furrowed, pouting lips frowned and his green eyes piercing through mine.
"What?" I breathed, using my hands to wipe away some tears.
Harry didn't say anything as he reached for my chin. He turned my head with a grip there, examining the bruise that was probably more visible by the minute. He used his thumb to run it across the colored area. My reaction was to wince and slightly pull away. Though his touch was so magnetic and foreign, so sweetly desirable. I quietly watched as he said, "It's my fault."
I slowly began to frown at his words. "Wh--"
"I let them hurt you," he muttered with a clenched jaw. "My job is to never allow that."
My confusion softened into concern. "It's not your fault." I quietly replied.
He removed his touch and angrily let his nostrils flare. I saw him run his hands through his thick curls. The fury and disappointment by this time was obvious on his face. "Oh, but it is. I should have never left you on your own. How am I supposed to explain this to your father?"
"It's okay," I assured him softly, feeling my throat burn with every word. "Your job is to keep me alive. And I'm perfectly alive, Harry."
"You don't understand," he began angrily, but I refused to let him continue.
"I do understand," I firmly stated, his eyes watching me with little astonishment and mine with concern. "Without you, I would've been dead two weeks ago.