RED ROOM [H.S]

11.

Sleep never came to me last night. I twisted and I turned, cried into my pillow and screamed into the darkness of my room until my throat felt raw and matched the ache I felt in my wrists. Even then, I couldn't make myself fall asleep. The nightmare of my future was too real once I shut my eyes. Instead, I let myself replay the last twenty-four hours in my head.

Harry had driven me home, despite my protests. I guess he was better than Niall, who had thankfully disappeared after I insulted him about being in a gang. He was oddly caring, and kept apologizing for my bruised wrists and how Niall scared me. I would of thought it was endearing, if I didn't think Harry was fucking insane. As soon as I had gotten out of his car, away from his dark eyes and intoxicating scent, I basically sprinted up the stairs and slammed my apartment door shut.

Before I knew it, morning arrived and I was still wide awake. The sound of babies crying and people bickering made it's way through my paper thin walls as I pulled myself out of bed, feeling as numb as ever. I couldn't remember the last time I had eaten something, nor did I even know what I had stocked away in my fridge. I curled my fists tightly. I needed to get my shit together.

"You can't live like this anymore," I told myself bitterly, shaking my head. I pressed my palms against the kitchen counter, my gaze dragging across my entire apartment. It was sad that I could see the entire apartment where I stood.  The creaking floorboards, the peeling paint on the walls, the water stained ceiling, my tiny bathroom that constantly dripped water and made my bills skyrocket throughout the year. I hated it, but I always told myself it would get better. So far, it hasn't. With the drama that Harry brought, I felt like this was twelve steps backwards.

I couldn't but chuckle dryly. ""You're a fucking embarrassment," I told myself.

I stood on my toes to reach the top of my fridge, padding my fingers around until I found what I was looking for. As I pulled the crumpled up envelope, I began counting, like I did every time I felt overwhelmed about everything. It usually made me feel a lot better.

Nine hundred and thirty two dollars exactly. Not enough to run away, but a lot better than what I had a few weeks ago. I grabbed a few dollar bills, hating myself that I needed it to get myself something to eat.

The idea of playing Bill, Niall and Harry like a god damn fiddle  was still playing in my mind, and I had never been more determined to do something in my life. The anger of being treated like a child rattled me. I hated how they all barged into my life, claiming a spot in my life that they weren't welcome to have. I wasn't naïve, I knew that the chances of them figuring out my plan was high, but I questioned how long it would actually take. If worse comes to worse, I could run away with the money I had now. I would just have to find a job within the same day. I squeezed my eyes shut at the thought. Whatever it took to live a peaceful life, I thought. I needed to do this. For me. For my future.

Just as I wrapped my pity party up and put the money back where I found it, a knock at the door startled me.

I stared at it, frozen in place. It was barely 8AM. Who the fuck was awake at this time? Then again it wasn't like anyone around here really slept.

Maybe if I was quiet, whoever it was would just leave. I hated answering the door as it was, but given how everyone now apparently knew were I fucking lived, I now hated it even more.

A harder knock followed, and the sound of a man laughing made me sigh deeply. "I know your home, sweetheart. Open the door before I knock it down."

Bills voice reminded me of nails on a chalkboard. It sent an unpleasant shiver down my spine. I was sure he was the devils spawn. Evil to the very fucking bone.