Captivated by shadows [h.s.]

32.

Harry Styles

I'm such a fucking idiot.

I bought her pink donuts like we were in some fucked up fairytale. I wanted to apologise to her, but I couldn't get a single word out.

Who am I, and who would I be if I had actually apologised to her?

I haven't apologised to anyone for my behaviour for years because I don't give a fuck if I hurt someone or what others think of me.

But then why the hell did I feel guilty?

Eduardo trained me to make me stronger. So that I could keep a cool head during his missions and think rationally, which is the only reason I can sleep at night, even though I've already killed more than a dozen people.

I never thought the day would come when my façade would crumble, when my walls would slowly come tumbling down, and all because of a woman I couldn't care less about.

All because of Rosie.

I'm such a fucking wimp.

What's wrong with me?

She has brought me to a point where I haven't been for years. I lie awake in my bed at night and can't sleep because my thoughts won't let me.

The fact that she's starving herself because of some asshole who thinks she's too fat only makes me feel even more guilty towards her.

She was in a relationship with such a nasty person, let him bully her and after everything she's already suffered at my hands, I'm behaving just as shitty as her ex, maybe even worse.

That would explain why she's still nice to me despite all the things I've done to her.

I'd like to knock her ex-boyfriend's teeth out for the way he treated her. She said he punished her with days of silence and other things.

What were those other things?

I tightened my jaw at the thought of her not eating for days just to please him. He manipulated her for so long that she already believed the things he told her.

Did he tell her other things that she firmly believed in?

She actually thinks that she is fat, even now, although she no longer has any contact with him.

I could see her face clearly in front of me. Her long red hair, which sat perfectly every time, even when she had just woken up.

Her freckles on her face and her bright blue eyes, which seemed to be like magnets, because I always found it hard to look away again.

The one little dimple on the left side of her cheek that you could only see if you looked really closely and the way she always made you laugh along, only when she laughed.

Her collarbones, which you could see clearly, and my fingers itched to run over them and trace the lines every time.

Her long fingers, which had as many rings on them as mine.

My ring on her ring finger.

Every day I stare at my ring that was on her finger, and I would be lying if I said I didn't like it.

Breathing in and out deeply, I reach for the packet of cigarettes lying on the floor next to my mattress.

I tried for weeks to push her away from me, and yet there was something about her that fascinated me.

She knows I've killed people before. She knows I do drugs, get involved in illegal things every day and clearly have an anger problem that drives me to the point of destroying an entire establishment, and yet yesterday she took me to a tree house, danced with me and then wanted me to lie next to her in the rain.