Astray

Chapter 5~

A/N: The response to this fan fiction is awesome. Thank you so much for reading, we really appreciate it! Like always, read, comment, vote, and spread the word. Your support keeps us writing! Xx- J&A

I felt a twinge of sorrow watching Harry disappear from my room. He was my anchor here, in this city filled with people who would use and abuse anyone for power.

I watched him walk past my room, running his narrow fingers running through his curly brown hair. His lips, that always had a trace of a grin on them, even during the grimmest of moments. His dimples that transformed his cocky smirk into a genuine smile. And his eyes, oh his eyes...

Were staring straight at me, noticing me staring dumbly at him. He smirked, and his dimples reappeared, and waved at me. I blushed profusely, and waved back, rushing away from the window. He walked away, grinning at himself.

After making a total idiot out of myself, I walked into the bathroom and stripped the filthy clothes off my body. I stripped my old life away. The life where I was covered in my past, and ran away from everyone and everything I cared about. Leaving them dead on the marble floors of the mansion that was once filled with laughter.

I turned on the large, extravagant bath that could've passed as a small pool. I tied my long, dark hair in a bun, and slowly stepped in the excruciatingly hot water. I lowered my body in, until I was completely surrounded by bubbles and the distinct scent of lemon soap. I twirled my fingers through the bubbles, still unable to register the fact that I was actually cleansing myself in an actual bath, not just scrubbing my body with my filthy hands and whatever spare water I have. That's what my routine was, when I was free.

When I was free. But how can I even refer to life on the streets as free, when fear possessed my every move?

And now I was captured. It's strange, because my whole life I had nightmares about being taken away by the enemy, but my life as a hostage actually gives me everything I need in life.

I push the positive thoughts around my capture away. How can I think such things, when my family's innocent blood is spilled all over these people's hands?

I close my eyes, blocking out every conflicting thought and image. I sat in the hot water for what seemed to be eternity, literally soaking up my new life.

I gazed at the clock on the wall, and groaned. It was 4:47 and dinner was at 5:00. As much as I despised the thought of sitting around a table with murderers, I haven't had a decent meal in years, and I could no longer ignore the monster inside my stomach.

I rose out of the bathtub, and scurried out, not wanting to make a bad impression due to my lateness. I peered in the closet, expecting a plain, all white outfit that my image of hostages would wear. Instead, a dimly lit walk in closet invited me in, filled with clothes that I never imagined that would brush my fingertips ever again.

I touched the exquisite fabrics, unsure how to pick anything to clothe and shelter my body from the lustful eyes of the Independents who used hostages as their toys. I finally decided on a simple white dress, that didn't draw any attention to my curves or body. I slipped on white, closed toe heels, and wistfully walked out of my beautiful closet.

Looking at my giant mirror, I barely recognized myself. I still had the shadows of my past under my eyes, and the paths of tears on my face. But I didn't have the stains of dirt and poverty on my cheeks. I didn't have the wild look of fear consuming my brown eyes. I turned the crystal handle of my faucet, and ran my hands under the water, scrubbing my face, making the circles around my eyes disappear.

I moisturized my cracked, blood stained lips with Chapstick, and ran a silver comb through my knotted dark brown hair, to look fresh and shiny.

I was ridding myself of the burdens my old life was consumed with, and adjusting to my new life. Even though I was sleeping in the same building as the people who created the mess that was my life, I had food. And clean water. And clothes that were neither too small nor too large.

Rushing out of the place that was my new home, I searched the hallways for any sign that would lead me to where I would have my first, somewhat normal, meal for years. A light tap on my shoulder interrupted my search, causing me to jump out of my skin. I turned around, my eyes meeting green ones, dimples, and the ghost of laughter behind the wide smirk on Harry's face.

"You really shouldn't be in the hallways alone." His deep voice spoke smartly, as if I was a child.

I opened my mouth to retort to his sarcastic comment, but nothing came out.

"Why am I so nice to you?" He asked, grinning. His hand closed around my arm, yanking me in the direction the dining room appeared to be in.

I yanked my arm away from his tight grasp, and crossed my arms stubbornly. "I'll find it myself," I replied, taking off away from him.

"That's the wrong way, you know." Harry called out to me, grinning.

I stopped in my tracks. I was probably already late, so the best thing to do was probably to begrudgingly allow him to take me to the damn dining hall. Once again, my stubbornness won against my common sense, and I continued to stand there, arms crossed over my chest.

Muscular arms enveloped my small body, and I shrieked. The smell of mint entered my nostrils, and I knew immediately who it was. Harry had slung me over his shoulder, and was walking the "correct" route to the dining hall. I pounded my fists against his back, but it was no use.

"You are the most stubborn person I have ever met. You and Zayn have much in common." Harry spoke teasingly. I noticed a hint of bitterness when he mentioned Zayn, but I didn't ask why Harry was so hostile towards him. I certainly didn't mind, I hated the guy as well.

Silence took over our strange walk to the dining hall. I pictured how ridiculous we must look, and the laughter that I've sealed between my lips escaped. I laughed out uncontrollably, every giggle sounding hysterical. Tears filled my eyes; as I had not laughed in years. Harry chuckled at my hysteria.

He gently lifted me down, and looked at me in amusement, his dimples carving into his cheeks. Breathless, I finally gained composure of myself.

"You should smile more often. It looks pretty on you." Harry spoke, winking at me.

My cheeks warmed at his compliment. He smirked at my reaction, amused at his power to cause me to glow the brightest shades of red.

We walked through the grand doors of the dining area. My jaw dropped in amazement. The tall, round ceilings were decorated with crystal chandeliers. There were white marble walls, with beautiful paintings spread across them. The long banquet table was decorated with flowers and silver table arrangements. The smell of hot, steaming roast chicken hung in the air.

Harry chuckled at my reaction. "Later Liz." He said, smiling at me.

"Wait!" I cried, pushing away the scarlet that would soon fill my cheeks if I thought about his nickname for me. "Aren't you- aren't you going to sit with me?" I whispered desperately.

"I'd love to, but Zayn would kill me. He's kinda... Possessive." He replied.

I looked around desparingly, looking for a friendly face.

I met the eyes of a man with dark, lustful eyes. Staring straight at me. He had a wide smirk on his face, but it was different from Harry's. His was filled with greed and lust. A messy quiff was piled on top of his hair, his dark hair gleaming.

Zayn Malik was waiting for me.