New Angel H.S

13

"She's ready. In." Penny says and I walk right through to Rachel Styles.

I never thought me and her would talk again, if I'm honest.

The first thing I notice is the strong scent of alcohol in the room. I turn at an angle, I see Rachel sat in her seat in a dark purle suit, holding a white mug. I wouldn't put it past her if vodka is filling her cup instead of a warm coffee.

"Ah, Hazel." She says, putting down her mug, I take a seat opposite her. I look around for a moment and I realise there are no windows at all, just tall art and magazine covers everywhere. I shoufle in my seat, sitting up. "Just as beautiful as you were the last time I saw you." She smiles cheesily and I do the same, uncomfortable.

"Can I please talk to Harry." I say. If anyone would say yes it'd be her. The only thing putting me on her side of the organisations is the fact I need publicty for whatever reason. I could drop her easily. No one is nudging me here except me.

"You know I can't do that, Hazel." She states and pouts sarcastically, I hold the wooden arms of the chair tighter than before.

I look at her, clenching my jaw. I've known from Harry that his mother is quite bitter and abusive but you don't know how bad someone is until you meet them. Rachel seems like she's putting on a show. Her bright, cheerful eyes are hiding her drunken ones. She seems drunk all the time. The lack of care she had for Harry the time I met her made my heart sink. She seemed unbothered. We are just her money, and I'm her new toy.

"Anyways," She snaps me out of my mind. She taps a pile of paper on the her cluttered desk diving us both. "I know this is last minute but you have a shoot tonight at tomorrow. Tonight's one is 9 PM and tomorrow's is at 10." She, takes a sip of her cup.

he lean her elbows on the table, knocking something down in the process. "So, that's not why your here though, Hazel." I frown at her and she chuckles. "Your father told me you've been good, so I am to let you go through your Instagram for five minutes."

"I'd prefer a hot meal." I say under my breath and she frowns.

"What?"

"Perfect." I say, discarding what I said before.

She smiles and takes out a spare phone, Instagram already open before passing it to me. Then, she takes out her own phone and calls someone. "Harassing her? Fuck you, Reece. What the fuck." She says quietly to her phone. She gets up and smiles awkwardly at me before walking away.

I look at the solitude phone infront of me seeing the posts. They're unrecognisable. I can't remember anyone taking any of these, it makes my skin crawl. I doesn't even look like me. I've become a shell of a person. I think that scares me the most.

Theres one of me leaving the car. What's the most scary is the fact they all look as if I knew the people were taking these pictures of me. They look normal. But it's not. I had no clue.

Theres another, me walking down the street with Penny. Another, looking to the distance. I almost look uncanny. My cheeknbones look more hollow than I remember. I see my rib cage through my dress more than I ever had. I look disgusting.

I uncomftbly click away to the DMs, I'll answer some to forget what I look like again. I scroll around and most of them are older men, 40-50 year old men, complimenting me. There're a few, though, of people genuinely complimenting me, genuinely asking about me. At least a lot more genuine than the middle aged men.

My finger stops on a name. 'Angel__' I stare at it for a moment. It reminds me of Harry so my mind automatically makes my finger click.

"hi" It says. "have you heard of this poem" reads the next. "if i could fly" My heart pings.

It is Harry.

It's the fact that the chances of clicking on his profile is so small yet it happened. It's the fact that I am always led back to him. I don't smile at the phone screen, just incase someone walks in but, my stomach lifts and bubbles.

I look at the screen for a moment, contemplating what to do.

All I could think of is finding a way to see him again. The tip of his hands aren't enough. His voice isn't enough. I want to see him. I want to make sure he's okay. I need him. All of him. It would heal some part of me.

All I could think of is tomrrrow. As Rachel herself told me about the shoot, she's going to be there. I could somehow influence her to make Penny drunk or to push Penny away. I could get away then.

I take a deep breath, my stomach tickles from anticipation, as I type a response to him. "Tomorrow. Marée de Jardin Sation. 1 AM." I send. Then, to cover up the planned date, I hum, thinking of something else to write.

"Beautiful poem, isn't it, Angel?"