Obsessive (Sequel to Excessive)

Chapter 107.

SUPER UNEDITED AND LATE SO SO SO SOOOO SORRY!!!

*FLASHBACK*
HARRY STYLES

The small club was nearly full to the brim packing in far to many that it is intended to have. People were walking around with glasses full of thick liquor that only made me want to throw up. The sharp burn of whiskey down my throat numbs the unbearable pain running down my side and for a moment, I can still feel the knife plunging into me and running down my body.

It's been three days since I left my father's house, in Holmes Chapel. Since then I've gotten multiple rides from friends and somehow made my way down to Hastings, four hours from my father. The minute I was out the door I knew I needed to get this knife situation dealt with before I bleed to death. I ended up tying a few shirts around myself until I got to someone's house.

I don't remember the name of the girl that helped me. We had fücked a few times in the past, Ashley, Ashlyn, Alicia, something like that. Her father is a doctor and was able to sew me back up and send me on my way. I refuse to go to any hospitals regardless as to what her father said, so my only hope was finding a few rides here and there and trying to get as far away as I can from my father.

My goal is to get to at least get to Portugal, I have no idea how I plan to accomplish that but I hope I can at least get there and find a plane to America. For now, I'll stay here and find a way to earn some money. Until then, I plan on sitting here and drinking myself sick, trying to rid myself of the pain on my side. I have to change the gauze soon, but right now I'm two whiskeys in.

As the music bumped around me, I felt someone staring at me from the corner of my eye. I looked down the bar quick to see I man looking at me with squinted eyes. I turned my head back to the front hoping the guy saw that I had caught him and that he should just fücking look the other way. When I turned my head back, he was still staring at me but now, he grabbed his drink and moved closer to me so that only a single bar stool was between us.

I felt really uncomfortable and wanted nothing more then to get the fück out of here. This guy is still fücking staring at me and I am about two seconds away from clocking his face.

"Do you have a problem?" I asked rudely making him chuckle to himself.

"Just like I expected" he said with a nod making me squint my eyes. He has an American accent.

"What's that supposed to mean? Who the fück are you?" I asked turning to face him.

"Why are you here by yourself?" he asked, throwing me off a bit.

"What?" I asked.

"Why are you here by yourself? You've been downing whiskey for the last hour and not talking to a single person. What are you doing here by yourself" he said.

"Because I feel like it. Why are you even talking to me?" I asked.

"You seemed a bit lonely" he said shrugging making me cock my head back a bit.

What the fück was this guy on about? So what if I'm here by myself. So what if I choose not to talk to people. So what if I choose to drink this whole fücking bottle of whiskey on the shelf in front of me. This guy is creeping me the fück out and if he doesn't scoot his ass back down to the end of the bar, I will knock his fücking teeth out with the nearly empty glass in front of me.

"I'm straight" I said making him laugh.

"Me too, small world" he commented making me squint my eyes.