RED ROOM [H.S]

38.

Darkness was all I saw, and darkness was all I felt. It felt like I was trapped within it.

The night was had grown quiet, or maybe it was just because I had surrendered myself to the quietness of my brain to get away from reality just for a little while.

Once we had gotten back to the apartment, I locked myself in the bathroom, sliding down the wall until I fell into a heap. Harry was being looked after by Niall and some guy who was apparently a doctor. I tried not to judge people, but I wasn't sure how my doctors carried around a gun and had white pecks dusted on the tips of their noses.

I was still in my blood soaked dress, too out of it to really take it off. I just felt incredibly numb in that moment. I didn't know what to do, what to feel, or even what I was suppose to do. I wanted to know if Harry was okay, if he was breathing and if he had some sort of concussion, but I couldn't bring myself to stand and venture off into a room where I stood out like a sore thumb.

So instead, I sat and stared into the darkness of the bathroom, waiting for my eyes to grow tired and sleep to find me. I wanted to drown the thoughts out of my head like it was an overfilling bath. I wanted to forget the nights events and I wanted to run away until the guilt and confusion stopped feeling like it was biting at my skin.

A light tap at the door soon came, and I should of predicted that they wouldn't let leave me alone tonight. Especially not Harry. He was too concerned about my own well-being to even care about his own.

I didn't bother replying, and the intruder didn't seem to mind. The door creaked open, allowing a silhouette of a person to appear, before it closed again. Soft footsteps padded across to me until they slid down the wall besides me in silence.

"You okay?" He murmured. His hand blindly searched for mine in the dark. He tucked our entwined hands in my lap, giving them a gentle squeeze.

I hummed, squeezing his hand back. "Are you?"

"Been worse," he admitted softly, his voice floating through the air like a song. "No broken bones, which is different. I do have a concussion though."

"I told you."

He sighed. "I know."

It was silent for a moment. The only sound I could hear was my unsteady heartbeat. It was so loud that it echoed in my ears.

"Louis is talking to his connections in the police force," he whispered, clearing his throat. His palm felt sweaty against mine. "He's making sure the missing persons report is stripped from the record."

"That's great," I replied, though I sounded as flat as I felt.

Another sighed followed from Harry's lips. "You hate me."

It was a statement rather than a question, but I still shook my head like he could see it in the dark. "I don't, Harry."

"Then why are you acting like this?" He whispered back. "I know...I know I'm not a good person, but I wouldn't hurt you. At least after everything, I won't. I don't know what Louis told you, and it's probably best I don't...But I-,"

"He told me about Rebecca," I blurted out, unable to stop myself. The thoughts of her felt like it was eating me alive, and I didn't even know what she looked like.

Harry's nervous swallow was audible. "Right. Okay. Of course he did, yes."

"Harry..." I started. I bit down on my lip. I wasn't sure where I was going with this, or what I was even trying to say to him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Do you?"

I was silent as I thought. "Is it as bad as he's made it sound?"

Harry's hand slipped away from mine. I stared into the darkness, confusion lacing my body as I felt him stand.