Leader Of The Mafia {h.s}

036

Bree Tyler

Harry never told me the one last thing he had to say. He told me it was too soon for him to say anything. What the hell does that mean?

I wasn't sure how I felt, finding everything out about my father kind of put me in panic mode. I felt like I was having a panic attack as my lungs constricted and my chest was hurting. But I took deep breaths trying to calm myself down, it kind of worked.

I laid back in his bed next to Harry, he was slowly but surely falling asleep. He was far enough into his sleep to not here my breathing.

I guess since we had sex I was allowed to sleep in his bed once in a while. I mean, the sex thing was a huge thing for me since I was trying to limit myself from sleeping around with people. But Harry wasn't just a person, he was someone to me. I know it seems like a weird thing to be addicted to that kind of stuff, but it's almost like it takes away your problems. Just like vodka. It's all a distraction, and I was addicted to trying to find ways to not be distracted.

I wonder what mother would think. I wonder what she would think if she knew father had set someone up to kidnap me, just for him. He's just greedy, he left when I wasn't even born and now he wants to see me twenty-one years later? Bullshit. There has to be something he wanted, but now he won't get it. Because he's dead.

I wonder what my mother would think if she knew I liked my kidnapper.

I sighed, falling back onto the bed. I really just didn't want to think about my father anymore. He made me sick to my stomach.

-

I was brushing my teeth in the downstairs bathroom when I heard something from upstairs shatter. It was loud, like a broken glass. 

I dropped my toothbrush in the running sink, dashing out the bathroom to find where the noise came from.

I stormed up the stairs, going into Harry's room first to see if he knew what happened, or if he caused the loud ear piercing shatter.

"Harry?" I asked, finding his hand punched through a pocket mirror, the sink mirror was already broken; his glass shower was, too.

"Oh my god," I breathed out, his knuckles drenched in blood. "What happened?" I cried out.

Harry didn't even wince at the sight of blood oozing out of his knuckles. He had a smirk on his face with hair hung loose.

I got on my knees in front of him, pushing the curly hair back. "Harry, what happened?" I worryingly asked him.

I grabbed his bloody knuckles, glass was breaking in the skin. He chuckled under his breath. "Shit happens, don't worry."

"What made you do this?" I referred to the bloody knuckles and the broken glass, holding his face with my clammy hands.

"Like I already said, it just happens." He replied in a monotone tone with a scoff.

"B-be careful." I brushed my hand over his cut knuckles that were drenched in the crimson substance that grossed me out.

"Stop." He shook his head, "I don't need someone to take care of me. Especially not you." He eyed me up and down. His eyebrows furrowed meanly at me.

"Harry p-"

"No." He cut me off, pushing me away from him. "Don't." Causing me to fall flat on the tile, his shoes made a clink on the glass covered floor as he walked out of the bathroom.