Captivating [h.s.]

14

Harry Styles

It's been two weeks since Anna has been gone. I feel like I've searched and scoured the entire fucking city to find her. After the police found Mario's car, their lead went cold. No one has seen or heard anything from either of them, and I'm beginning to lose hope. The idea of Anna somewhere alone and helpless is enough to make my stomach instantly release whatever contents I have put into it.

I can't help but drown myself in things that keep my mind off of her. The past week and a half has been nothing but mixing drugs with alcohol and spending many nights in clubs or bars. I just don't care about anything anymore. I never thought I could feel something so strongly for someone who I barely got any time with. It isn't fair. I didn't get enough time with her. She didn't get enough time regardless. She didn't get to have enough time with Charlie. Or her grandmother. Or me.

Things are growing more bleak by the second. I keep finding myself drowning in bottle after bottle at the same fucking spot at this dingy dive bar. Girls are dancing all around me, and it's taking everything in me not to take one of them home, just to forget about the pain that I'm dealing with.

The boys haven't done anything to stop me though. They always tell me that they'll find her and that she will come back. But they don't fucking get it. She's gone. They're never going to find her. She will never come back to me.

And the worst part is, I keep replaying the moment that she could have gotten taken in my head. Over and over again like a broken fucking record. How helpless and scared she must have been. I wonder if she tried yelling for me. If she tried getting away. But the way that she was acting, I know that she could have been easily overpowered, and taken advantage of. And that's exactly what happened.

"Hey buddy. It's last call. Anything I can get you?" The burley bartender walks over to me, and throws his hand towel over his shoulder.

"Another double of Maker's, please." I say, swirling the rest of the contents of my drink around in my glass.

The tall man simply nods and retreats back into the bar, and reaches for the nearly empty bottle.

"Pretty sure you killed this one tonight." He says motioning towards the quarter full bottle of brown liquid.

I manage a simple hum while flicking my eyebrows up, before he sets the highball glass in front of me before I toss a hundred dollar bill onto the bar. I quickly let the burning liquid coat my throat before grumbling to the man that he could keep the change. I know I just willingly gave that man a $60 tip, but I wasn't in the mood to deal with anything he had to say anymore.

I quickly retreat to the restroom, making sure to lock the door behind me while I reach into my pocket for the small ziplock bag. I hurriedly open the bag onto the counter of the sink, and pour out enough of the white contents to make a small line. I grab a random bill from my wallet and roll it up, and I stop once I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

My hair was greasy, and messily pulled into a bun out of my face. There were deep magnificent shades of purple creating a mural of exhaustion under my eyes. The rims of my eyelids were a bright shade of pink, making my green irises pop even more than usual. I looked like shit. And I felt it too. I push all the thoughts to the back of my mind, just wanting these next few moments to allow me to forget all the shit swirling around in my brain.

I lower my head to the counter, and quickly sniff up the snow white powder in one go. The familiar burning sensation fills my nostrils and for a moment, just a moment, I feel okay. I grab a wet paper towel and clean up the mess before tucking the small bag back into my pocket and walking out of the bathroom. I nod to the bartender, who is now cleaning the bar, seeing as I am the last person to leave, and the second I walk out the front door, flashes of lights and an immense amount of yelling is happening around me.