The Resident // Harry Styles H.S.

32

HARRY'S POV:

I had given up on the police for the day. I'd try again later. I'd surely be able to talk some sense into Janel today at some point. There were just too many people at the police station, and too little police taking reports and stuff. And I was just too nervous to be seen there. My jacket seemed to be working, but I did get some strange looks, so I gave up. I'd waited a half an hour. I just wanted to get back to Janel. She's all I wanted to see right now. I HAD to fix this mess. I swear to God, if I found out who was trying to tear us up, I'd fvcking kill them with my bare fvcking hands. I always said that I'd make mamma bears look tame, if someone hurt my Janel. Well, they were hurting her NOW.

I noticed in the building entrance that Janel hadn't gotten the mail yet. Good. Maybe I'd just find the pics, and toss them so she'd never see them.

But then again....I couldn't hide anything. I'd have to tell her about the other texts and pics and calls today, too. So she could see that someone was deliberately fvcking with us. I had them all on my phone still, just in case things got out of hand. I should have gone to the police when it first started. I just thought it would stop. I kept thinking this person would give up when they weren't getting any response from me! WHY hadn't that worked this time? I didn't get it.

I took the mail upstairs, and as I walked up, I saw another yellow packing envelope. Great. There's the pics. I didn't even want to see them. If it was something real, sure. But there was NOTHING real it could possibly be. So I didn't even care.

I opened the door, and I could see straight into the kitchen. Janel was down on the floor, leaning on the cabinets. She was breathing heavy and looked like HELL. Looked like she'd been crying for days. I took a few steps in, and her head started to bob and her arms started to jerk and she started falling over sideways. She was fainting I think.

I yelled her name, dropped the mail, left the door open, and ran to her. I wanted to catch her before she hit her head on the floor. But I couldn't get to her in time. DAMMIT!!!!! I cursed myself for not being there for her.

I got there right as her head hit, and I lifted her head in my hands and knealt over her.

My God, she looked terrible. Her face was puffy and soaked with tears. Her eyes were red and swollen, even being shut, they were red on the outside and all around them. She was in her tank top and undies only. Her heart was beating a million miles a minute as she lay lifeless in my hands.

I looked around. I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to call an ambulance. I was pretty sure she'd only fainted. But why? I put her head down gently on the floor, and looked on the counter. No medicine or anything there. I looked on the kitchen table. A glass of orange juice. What was that for?

Maybe she DID take something? Maybe she was trying to kill herself? Sh.it. Sh.it.......SH.IT! What do I do?

Then I noticed my phone on the floor below the table where the orange juice was.

I knealt over and picked it up and opened it. What was she doing with it? Calling 911 maybe?

As soon as I opened it, the first thing staring up at me, was a naked pic of a woman's parts. The picture texts. Those.

She saw it. She saw them all. She saw all the texts. Maybe the call list.

And I hadn't told her about them to protect her from being stressed. And now......

I jumped up and went to the bathroom cabinet. I looked in it. We didn't usually have any medicine. We didn't need any. Just some over the counter pain relief stuff. One small bottle. And it was always here, in the medicine cabinet.