INDECENT 》Harry Styles #Wattys2018

》Chapter Five.

Edited by: _rose

'' What the bloody hell are you doing here?'' He yells and I bring my hands to my chest, feeling startled by his harsh tone. '' Answer me!'' He speaks crossing his arms. His all persona seems even more intimidating this close and I'm literally about to start running and never look back.    '' Are you a thief?'' He inquires and my eyes run up to meet his. His quote awakes something in me and I push myself off from the nightstand taking a step forward, making him wince slightly at my sudden movement.

'' A thief? Me?''

'' Are you?''

'' Because if I really were, I'd tell you?'' I sarcastically point out. He opens his mouth to fire back but then reconsiders my statement and retracts.

'' Who gave you the permission to be in here, then?'' His accent his still thick because he's upset.

'' I work here!'' I state harshly and all of a sudden, his eyes flash with understanding and the anger leaves place to indifference. This simple admission is enough to let him drop any interest he previously held in me.

I follow his steps while he strolls next to me and for a brief instant, I see confusion flashing on his face whilst he caresses the corner of one of the frames I've previously analysed.

'' You touched my photographs?'' He bluntly asks snapping his head back in my direction.

''What?'' I try to gain time but his rage hits me like a truck speeding on a highway while I look around to find an escape.

''How dare you laying your dirty hands on my stuff? Who gave you the permission?'' He yells moving forward. I backward out of instinct, my hands shaking so hard.

''I didn't mean to. I was just-''

'' Just what? Sticking your peasant nose into my room so that you could escape your shitty useless life for a moment or two and act like someone you will never be?'' I feel the hot liquid raising from the core of my body up to my cheeks and strain them with redness. I hate the fact that he wants to make me feel useless for something I can't and maybe don't even want, to change. Not if that means giving up on the dearest part of who I am, the one I shelter more than my own life.

'"I haven't chosen this. I haven't decided to become a poor girl who works for snobby people and you have no right to speak to me like this-'' Again he cuts me off with his air of superiority.

'' I have not, you say? I pay for whatever you are wearing, for your food, therefore I own you. I can speak to you and use the language I want. You should be more grateful and shut up so that I will not fire you.''

I let out a sharp breath, trying with everything that I have not to ruin this. I want to tell him off so bad, however the picture of my mother that sleeps with her head on the papers in the kitchen, too tired to even move to the couch in the living room, stops me. I can't be selfish, I have no other option other that bite my tongue and stop myself from being harsh with this brat.

'' You stopped talking, I see. You're not as stupid as I thought you were after all.'' He whispers, amused and pleased by his own words.

I literally giggle at that; who does he think he is?

'' You find it funny that I caught you stealing in my room under my own roof, right? What if I tell my father about your velvet pretty little fingers? I'm sure he will be glad to hear he has hired a thief.'' My blood runs cold when he ends speaking.

'' That would be a lie."

'' Then what were you doing here?'' He narrows his eyes, I challenge him to try and make me talk.