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Harry Styles.

...

Soon after I got in here in the first place, I realized how I can trust no one. I know no one and I have no one on my side. No one.

I miss the boys. I miss my house and I miss Louis' couch. I miss seeing Amelia and I miss feeling the wind as it hits my face walking down the street. I miss Leah. I think I miss Leah the most, because every single time I think about her my chest gets so, so heavy and I want nothing but to disappear.

My days are the exact same every day. I have been here for three nights, which is a long time to not have closed an eye. I haven't been able to find peace, and I have this constant feeling of fear and unsettlement deep in my stomach causing me to vomit and toss and turn at night.

I really just want to go home.

I walk down the cement halls with a policeman next to my shoulder, walking so close I couldn't breathe even if I tried. Every small move would cause him to grab my shoulder or wrists with his hard police-hands.

Nobody is saying anything. They never do. My last three days has been completely silent except for when Niall stepped by. They won't really allow him in, and when they do it is only for 10 minutes with constant supervision.

He told me yesterday that they had met up with my new lawyer, and that she would come here tomorrow. I believe, that is where we are going right now, for me to meet her. Niall says she is pretty. That she is young and like us. I think he tried to be funny, to lighten the mood a little bit, and it might have actually worked a bit.

I don't know what time it is, nor if we actually are going to see the lawyer. I don't know anything and asking doesn't exactly get me a long way. They just ignore me.

The policeman grabs my shoulder harshly and I force my eyes shut for a short second to try and stay calm. He presses me to my left and I turn my body in the forced direction to see a room, probably a questioning room.

I look long in the door to find a small oak table with one chair on each side. On the side the furthest away from me and the door sits a woman. Her hair looks long and blonde, but it is tired up in a bun at the top of her head, but with small pieces of hair falling into her face and along her neck.

The policeman pushes me into the room and looks at the girl. They both nod.

On the back of her chair is a red jacket and on her eyes a pair of black round glasses. A small almost insecure smile covers her mouth.

On her feet she is wearing a black pair of boots, a pair of blue, ripped jeans on her legs. A curry yellow turtleneck with a loose shirt hanging over her shoulders. Niall was right.

The authority figure behind me lets go of my shoulder and turns around, closing the door on his way out.

The room feels light, huge, actually. The one wall next to me has a long mirror alongside it, so you can see yourself as you sit at the table. The other side has big a window, probably only one-sided see-through, so people on the outside wouldn't be able to see in.

I look confused around for a second being extremely obnoxious on my pulse just beneath my jawline.

"You can sit down here." she speaks politely.

I walk over to the chair and slowly slide into it. I say nothing, trying to find somewhere to lock my glance at.

"My name is Morgan Wilson," her voice seems pretty calming. She sounds soft. "I am your lawyer from Rash Corporate Law."

In the court of law || h.s.Where stories live. Discover now