Cleo Horan
"Cleo? Wake up."
Someone touched my shoulder and I never moved so fast, sitting up on the bed and reaching for the knife under my pillow... but I forgot it wasn't there.
But when I looked up, I realized Zayn was the one who woke me up.
He had a sympathetic smile on his lips, probably only now realizing it was a bad idea to wake me up.
My heart was racing in my chest and it took me a few seconds to become fully aware- Fuck, I fell asleep.
No.
I quickly looked to the side so I could check on Harry, and he was on the exact same spot on the bed as he had been for the last two days... but his eyes were closed and he was actually sleeping now.
Thank god, he finally got some sleep.
This had to be a good sign.
I promised Harry I wouldn't leave his side, and that's what I did. I only left to do the basic things such as peeing or showering, but there was a small ensuite bathroom so I was still close by.
No, I hadn't eaten or even gone downstairs ever since I came up here after nearly killing Anne.
I was going to stay with Harry for as long as he needed me, and I knew he was listening because he kept squeezing my hand as I spoke.
But somehow I fell asleep last night, and the last thing I remembered was telling him some stupid story of how Niall tried to teach me how to play chess. I had no idea why talking about Niall became easier, but I was so desperate to just keep talking and somehow keep Harry's attention on me that I just blabbered.
I told him the most useless things and also sang a few songs, even though I was a shitty singer compared to him. Sometimes he answered when I asked
if he was still with me, and he would always squeeze my hand.
Too many hours had passed and I had never felt so worried in my life. I was terrified and Zayn knew that. He hadn't left... and unfortunately so hadn't Anne.
Zayn told me yesterday that Anne wasn't planning on leaving until she was sure Harry was okay and awake, but she was a dumb bitch because he wasn't okay... I wasn't sure if he would be.
I would never lose faith in him, but I was concerned. I had never seen this reaction before and I had no idea dissociative disorders could be so intense.
But his trauma was painful and scarring, and this was basically a form of PTSD as well. I had no idea what I would do in his place.
To be honest, I wanted to go downstairs and slit Anne's throat.
I promised Harry I wouldn't, and I hated that I was conflicted about her because if she hadn't saved him, then he wouldn't be alive right now and I wouldn't have met him. I knew she helped... but she also fucked up big time. She did more wrongs than rights.
Desmond and my mother were literally pieces of shit. Thank fucking God I killed them and thank god my father was dead too.
And now Anne was the only one left, and even if she regretted it, she was connected to the trafficking since the start and she deserved to die for that.
But Harry deserved to talk to her and ask his own questions. He had the right to ask about his sister, even if Anne didn't know much apparently.
I was extremely thankful to Zayn because he was staying mostly downstairs and keeping an eye on her, and I knew he was the only one capable enough to be around Anne without acting stupid.
