Chapter Thirteen

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"Who are you?" Harry slurred loudly, keeping the gun pointed at my stomach. I held his gaze as if he'd remember me by looking into my eyes, but he waited patiently for me to answer, keeping me leveled against the wall.

"Harry," I murmured, slowly raising my hand to place it on his chest. "S-stop, you're drunk."

"I don't think so." He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, wagging his gun at my face. I flinched back and lowered my head. "You're in no position to piss me off right now, so I suggest you start talking." He lifted up his chin. "Did Louis send you?"

I shook my head quickly, keeping my eyes on the gun. My heart rate increased erratically but I tried to ignore it.

"Why haven't I seen you before?" Harry mumbled and he dropped the gun on the ground. I clamped my eyes closed but the gun didn't go off. He licked his lips and studied my face. "You look vaguely familiar," he said then lowered his eyes. "Look familiar vaguely." He furrowed his brow and stuck out his bottom lip. "Familiar vaguely look you, yeah."

"Harry, it's Evelyn," I said and nudged him cautiously. "I'm your, um, mate."

"I have a mate," he said, raising his voice slightly. Harry ran his fingers through his hair and then rubbed his face. His eyes dropped. "her name is Esme."

"No, it's Evelyn." I mentally cursed myself for allowing a drunken conversation to continue but I had a feeling that pushing him would make him mad. "Look, you need sleep."

"I'm not tired," he stated proudly and allowed room between us by moving to the counter. He sat himself on it and laid down.

I pursed my lips and pushed myself off the wall. My eyes traveled over the cabinets. I looked at him once more before rummaging through two of the cabinets and found glasses. I took one, filled it up with water and placed it by his head.

"Now," I mustered a stern voice, "you're going to drink all of that."

Harry raised his head and curled his top lip at me. "Make me," he said and smirked after a pause.

I gave up trying to help him and decided to go back to my bedroom. I rolled my eyes and walked off, turning into the hallway before I heard a thump. Harry padded after me before slumping against the wall and telling me to wait.

I sighed and turned around, annoyed that I hadn't listened to Louis and just stayed in my room. I didn't need to care for this man who took me away from my home, no matter how long I stayed with him and despite those stupid comforting feelings around him.

When I turned, Harry was standing right in front of me. I had little time to react when he grabbed my face and kissed me.

I froze in shock as his lips began to move slowly over mine. My body jolted and I carefully placed my hands against his chest before realizing what I was doing, and I shoved him off.

I didn't enjoy that, no. But my body reacted in a way I didn't think it would. The back of my neck was also tingling, where my tattoo was. I shook my head to myself and walked away before he could get ahold of me again.

"Come baaack," he called after me but didn't move from his spot. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. "Ugh, I can't see you anymore."

"Goodnight, Harry," I called, rolling my eyes once more.

"Goodnight, Athena."

I closed the door after me, glad nothing overwhelming happened--except for the kiss. I wasn't tired at the moment, leaving me a lot of time to digest what the hell just happened. How the kiss felt. Who it was from; none of it was right.

An hour passed before I heard Harry's voice again. With the slurring and moaning, I thought he was sleep talking, but he sounded alert and awake, screaming.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." His voice quietened and there was a bang on the wall.  I didn't think twice before I stepped outside my door, careful.

He was standing in the living room, the gun in his hand once more. My blood ran cold when I called out his name. I was scared he was going to do something really bad with that gun, and, strangely, I knew he wouldn't hurt me.

It was a bold--even stupid--move, but I called out to him.

"Are you alright?" I whispered.

He turned around. His eyes were bloodshot and his face was pale. His knuckles were bruised and bleeding and his eyes watered.

"I did it for a reason," he mumbled and wiped his eye with the back of the hand that held the gun. With that, he glared at the weaponry and threw it onto the couch. "It was gonna get worse. I did a good thing, I swear."

"Harry," I sighed, and he strode over to me and hugged me.

"I would do it again," he mumbled into my neck. I felt him shake his head, and his breath on my skin. "Homicide, I'd do it again if it meant ending misery."

"Not tonight, Harry," he whispered to himself, staring at the gun. "I'm better ever since you came."

And then he left.

I was very, very confused but he was drunk and I couldn't pry into his business in the morning so I chose to sleep it out.

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