concealed - h.styles // completed

Chapter Forty-Six, Part Two

Update: 02/05/2016 - I apologize to my readers who have not been able to read this part two because for some reason, it was published as a private part. I don't know exactly what I did, but again I apologize! Enjoy :)

(Happy New Year! Let's go, 2015. :D - Annie; P.S. I apologize for the extremely long update. I had writer's block and a bunch of other stuff on my plate. Sorry ^_^... Hopefully I still have readers xD)

Chapter Forty-Six: Final Chapter, Part Two

Harry's POV

I could still breathe, but it hurt like the fiery hell itself was digging at my skin with its long, jagged nails. I could feel my skin breaking and cracking (with dried blood stains) as each short, inadequate breath made its way into my bruised lungs. I was kicked and beaten, but it was all worth it to know I could protect at least one person from this lunatic.

Ever since I lost Veronica, I tried to keep everyone in the outside world away from me. Getting attached, or worse falling deep in love, was the worst case scenario. I told myself constantly to drop Alex off somewhere and drive back to the alley where my friends (most of them were dead now, fucking shits) hung out, just being carefree guys.

If I had never met Alex, none of us would've been stuck here. Liam wouldn't have been betrayed; Luke wouldn't have been injected with a shot that was used to put down animals, only the dosage was far over the legal limit; Niall wouldn't have been dragged off to oblivion because of his big mouth...

Everyone could still have been stupid, high shits that were happy being criminals and constantly being chased by the police. We could've all stayed together as The Infamous, but now it was all gone. The only friends and family that I truly had was gone. Broken up.

I hoped to whoever was listening to me at the time to hear me out for once in my life... I hoped that Alex was still somewhere alive and breathing. Just the mere thought of her dead made the cuts on my back, waist, arms and legs singe with heat from the anger built up inside of me.

Who the fuck would kill others to get one girl? I loved Alex and all, but seriously.

I bit my lip so hard that I tasted the dry, metallic blood of mine being drawn as I attempted to sit up. The barely healed wounds reopened and had the scarlet plasma oozing out, the drops with my body heat in each leaving burning trails behind.

I didn't know where I was. It was the whitest room that I had ever been in. It made me uncomfortable for some reason. It was almost like a... doctor's office. Whoa, it had been a while. There weren't any cords attached to me for some reason. I mean, I was slashed on the back with a leather whip five hundred times and lost practically gallons of blood... okay, I was exaggerating, but who would blame a poor, handsome man like me? I had gone through a lot. Some damn sympathy was the least a living thing could do for me.

I ran my hands up and down my back and felt the bumpy, almost-fully healed scars. They were deep and long and made chills run down my spine.

"I can't believe I'm still alive," I muttered to myself. I ripped the hospital gown off and threw on my bloody flannel that was lying on the love-seat in the corner of the bland room. Even the smell was medicinal and intimidating. I put on my skinny jeans, ignoring the boxers that were dirty and lying on top of my jeans, and zipped it up. I felt around the bed for anything that I could've left behind.

"Ouch! Shit," I cursed as a sharp object ran along my finger, drawing even more blood. I got a damn paper cut. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?

I grabbed at whatever that was and saw an envelope. On it was a pretty cursive that spelled out my last name, Styles. I recognized it from Alex's bedroom and her homework on her desk. Did that mean she was alive? She must be somewhere here in the hospital right now. Was she conscious? She must be to have written my name on this.