Grey Area (Harry Styles)

II

II

  I WAS ALREADY AWAKE. I had been awake for an unknown amount of time, but it must have been over an hour. There was no window to indicate time nor was there a clock. All there was, was a leather sofa, a desk with neatly stacked papers and storage cabins. Overall the room was grim and cold.

I didn't forget anything that happened. I contemplated on thought of "would it have been better if I forgot what happened last night?" and my answer was no, because waking up in an unknown room with no recollection of what happened prior, did not sound appealing at the least. The bruises on my shoulder were still there to remind me what took place, and they transformed into a purple colour overnight.

I was sitting on the leather couch, the one I slept on. My chin was resting on my knees and I stared blankly ahead. Tears rolled down my face. I was clueless of what was going to happen to me, clueless of where I was; I was so clueless, I was even clueless on how to think.

So I didn't.

Visions of Harry standing there with a smile, twisted my intestines and made me feel sick. Was this a gruesome dream? Was I delusional, and just dreamt that Harry was there for reassurance? Or was the Harry that embraced me in his arms, real? Everything fitted if it was really him; his smell, his white cotton t-shit, his voice.

As I heard a conversation take place behind the lock door my ears perked up. I heard some mumbling, some swearing. Then I stopped being clueless and knew what to do.

I jumped off the sofa and stood next to the door. It felt like minutes waiting there for something to happen. However, the moment I heard the sound of a key twisting, I began to ponder on the thought if what I was doing was actually smart.

"- her up if she isn't," someone spoke as they opened the door, the first part being inaudible.

Two people walked in, their backs were unknown to me, and they weren't the ones from yesterday. One had unruly curly hair, not like Harry who had thick curls, but small curls that were flipped to one side, as one side was shaved off leaving a thick stubble of hair. The other boy did look similar to the Irish one yesterday, wearing a long white shirt with black skinny jeans.

"Where is fuck is she, Niall?"

I backed away, turned around and sprinted down the corridor. There wasn't much left to go, only the end I could see a metal spiral staircase. Without even a thought, I held on the bannister and raced down, entering a much more spacious area.

I was in a massive warehouse.

There where isles that were dedicated for gigantic boxes, and I contemplating on the idea of hiding in one of them. However my adrenaline was too high to stop running, so I didn't. I kept running, down the aisles, ignoring the yells. I didn't even know I had so much speed in me. Guess that's what anxiety does to you.

I ran until the aisles ran out. I slowed down, as there was nowhere left to run. In front of me, eight metres up were giant windows with a metal balcony; the same metal like the one from the spiral stairs. I could see someone familiar in the windows, staring at me. Eye contact was created and held.

I really wish it wasn't him. But something within me felt relief knowing I was safe.

A hand clutched my elbow, pulling me backwards against a chest.

"Don't you run away from us, sweetheart," a Manchester accent appeared closely to my ear, and I could feel the warmth of his breath.

I shrunk back in fear, closing my eyes, trying to escape the living nightmare.

"Lawrence, do you have any manners towards my girl?" Someone from above, called, his wonderful, sweet, raspy, loved voice echoing throughout the warehouse.

His hold lessened, and we both looked up.

There he was, no longer the possiblilty that I was hallucinating his presense. He was here, his heart beating and his face gentle. His one hand gripped the edge of the balcony, the other holding an alcoholic drink; making him look powerful, such power to him was unfamiliar to me.

"What the hell is going on, Harry?" I sneered, trying to rip my arms away from Lawrence. My eyes became slit, my heart burning in hate as I stared at the boy who I adored.

Is this some sick joke?

"Bring her up, Lawrence," he motioned with his index finger as he turned around, his hands no longer gripping the balconies edge. "We have some things to discuss."