Dust Bones [Harry Styles]

064

CATALINA

Since the very first second I woke up today, it felt rough. Not because it seemed like like getting out of bed was achingly painful, since that's always been true, but because I was convinced that I'm about to jump back to everything I've been trying to avoid for weeks now. I inhale sharply as I slip on the last of the two, creme colored heels.

The maroon dress had two slits just below my hips, allowing the silky fabric in between to flow with every step I took. I could hear my heels clicking against the marbled floors down the hallway. With a gun strapped around the tight, secured fabric of my underwear, right at my lower back, I effortlessly leave the hotel building.

Night was supposed to be gloomy, but my nights were always the opposite. They were rapid and dangerous, but the mere fact that I couldn't handle that, is a reason I shouldn't attend this party.

Driving there, I'd tense every other second again and again. I grip the steering wheel tightly, palms sweating lightly from the anxiety. A large dose of adrenaline nearly fuses inside of me with every other emotion I'm feeling. I was going to instantaneously combust if I added another spiral of emotion on top of the many I already experienced.

Upon arrival, I parked the car a few yards away from the building. In fact, it was needed considering the many cars that aligned the streets by the sidewalks. Sam didn't know about this, and I'm glad I decided not to tell her that I was going to throw myself into a battlefield. Purposely. I chose to keep these details to myself. Yet the reality was they weren't details at all, but much more colossal.

Thinking was for the weak. Or so it felt in that moment. I stood straighter and swallowed any of my intuition to feel incredibly frightened. Realistically, and on the topic of survival, I should have ran away and forgot about this all. But, I can't. Not the way my legs took me inside the building, even past the guards who saw me and had said nothing.

I wanted them to see me. And it was obvious they had. I walked alone, without anyone by my side. I suspected almost that my father knew I would be here. That somehow, by not reminding my grandmother to speak nothing about my current placement to my father, information was passed to him that he shouldn't have.

So, I knew he was expecting me. I finally felt like I knew what was going on, which is what I felt like I needed for so long. Yet, it felt foreign and with my self-doubt reminding me that I am never the smartest person in the room, I didn't believe it.

Men glanced in my direction every so often, noticing me. Not only men, but women eyed me suspiciously. They knew who I was, but their confusion settled much more prominently when I was seen with no one guarding me. With no one holding my waist, warning me aggressively to do what I'm told. Reminds me of similar, previous events.

Everyone chatted among each other quietly, the sound of a violin gently piercing the low murmurs of the room. I was offered white wine, which I took in my hands with a polite smile, but knowing my father's lessons, I didn't take a sip.

"Miss Gates," a man with a thick, familiar Italian accent says behind me.

I turn around, careful not to spill white wine over my hand. My eyebrows raise, and I remember this face clearly. "Marco," I say, recognition masking my terror.

He gazes me up and down briefly before sighing out, "You look like you've been in paradise."

"Paradise," I murmur gently. "Not the word I would use. Now tell me, did my father send you? Hoping that he'd call me over the nicest way he can?"

Marco looks taken aback, raising his eyebrows and pursing his lips. "I...yes, he did. He wants to see you immediately."

"I figured," I mumble lightly. "He hasn't heard of me in weeks."