RED ROOM [H.S]

18.

After the very questionable elevator ride, Harry had brought me into the second bedroom of his apartment. He pretended like he didn't just have his fingers in me, as if he didn't just witness how much my body screamed for him to touch me. I suppose I was grateful for that in a way, at least I didn't need to have the overwhelming feeling of embarrassment run over my body when he looked at me. He pretended as if it didn't happen and that was good. Something told me if he tried to seduce me any further, I wouldn't of put up much of a fight and that worried me so much so, I could barely look him in the eye as he told me where to put my things.

Harry didn't offer a shower or anything to eat, even though he heard my stomach grumble. He told me to go to sleep, and if I even thought about making a run for it, he would track me down and it wouldn't be pretty.

It was safe to say that I obeyed him, and I crashed down onto the white bedding almost instantly after he left me to be alone to be with my own thoughts. I almost groaned when I felt how soft it was, and fresh everything smelled. It wasn't surprising that the room was so white, that it was almost blinding to look at. I felt as if I was going to dirty sitting down on the bed. Everything was just so...white. White sheets, white frame, white carpet. It looked as if I was stepping into the mind of someone who suffered from server OCD. I would honestly assume that Harry did, but he had left me alone with all his white expensive things, when I was a sweaty, sticky mess, and I doubted anyone with OCD would of done that.

I sighed to myself as I kicked off my shoes, and stared up at the ceiling in thought. You could hear a pin drop, it was that silent. I couldn't hear a single sound, not even from the cars driving through the streets outside. I didn't even know where Harry was, or if there was a chance he would sneak into my room in the middle of the night to kill me. That very thought kept me awake for what seemed like hours. Harry had actually let me keep my phone, though I knew it would be because he knew I didn't have anyone to call, and the police weren't exactly going to do anything to help. I think if I pushed my luck any harder and even thought to dial 911, that bullet that I narrowly avoided would be lodged in my brain faster than I could say boo. Glancing down at it, I frowned at the time. 6:30AM.

I hadn't gotten a wink of sleep and exhaustion was seeping into me. As much as I tried too fight it off, too cautious of what Harry may or may not do to me, I couldn't deprive myself of it for too much longer. I allowed my eyes to drift shut, clutching my phone to my chest as I did.

-

I'm not sure when I fell asleep, or how my body could find peace after the shit storm of a day, but I awoke in Harry's spare bedroom to the sound of glass smashing. I gasped as I sat up suddenly, my body now clinging with new sweat. I winced at the feeling. I hadn't bothered to change last night. I was already a mess, and changing my clothing wasn't going to make much of a difference. It was sad how little I cared for myself with the situation at hand.

Another bang made me jolt again, and I groaned tiredly, my mind still slightly foggy from my sleep as I listened to the sounds that were coming from just outside my door. I was planning on sitting on the bed until the sounds stopped, not wanting to put myself in harms way again but it was the smell of smoke second guess my decision to do that. The sudden thought of Harry trying to burn me alive made adrenaline and fear pump through my veins like blood.

I opened the bedroom door slowly, only to be blinded by the sunlight streaming through the curtains of the lounge room. It took me a few seconds to piece together the scene in front of me, and I couldn't do anything but stare, jaw dropped, when I realized what was going on.

Harry was standing on top of his coffee table, shirtless, a bottle of whiskey in his hand, as he repeatedly stomped down on what looked to be...his laptop? Well, it was now in pieces, so I could only assume, judging from the screen that had fell to the floor in the middle of his attack on it. Despite having no shirt, he had boots on. His Doc Martins slammed down, smashing the laptop into smaller pieces, while causing the table itself to crack under the force. He didn't seem to mind.