lust // h.s.

Part 2|Wrong

Harry's POV:

"Charlotte?" I called through the doorframe. She turned around, her blue eyes bright in the slight glint from the windows on either side of the hall. "Yeah?", Don't leave. That's all I needed to say, Don't leave. "I'll like up when I leave and put the keys under your mat,"

A smile appears across her weary lips, but she had to know by now that I saw right through those kind of smiles. After a few moments she spoke up, her voice quiet, "Okay. Thanks," as she spoke, her voice cracked slightly, and it just killed me inside.

Her back turned on me, and she hurried down the hall. "And Charlotte," but this time she didn't stop. "I love you,"

As she continued at a steady pace; I couldn't really tell if she heard me or not. At least by her actions which in she just kept walking, but it was Charlotte; she knew how to contain her feelings. And I knew she'd heard me.

As she disappeared down the stairs, I closed the door backing myself into her apartment. Leaning my head on the wooden door, I can't help it as profane words tumble out of my mouth. If I just could've kept my fucking mouth shut!

But why couldn't I keep it shut?

I knew exactly why.

And the reason haunted me day and night, hours and minutes; I couldn't
control myself. I couldn't control my anger. Especially around her, she made me crazy inside. I could physically want her. Just want to be near to her, to feel her skin against mine, kiss her lips. And the next, I could want to hurt her; badly. But it wasn't her fault. It was mine.

I moved from the door into the living room, and sat down on the couch. Sinking in as the seconds passed,

I was bipolar.

I was mental.

I was crazy.

I was insane.

I was abusive.

I was ill.

As labels danced around in my mind vividly, I sunk deeper into the couch and leaned back my head against the soft material and lost myself in the darkness called my 'head'.


Charlotte's POV:

Tears fell as quickly as I was walking.

The cold air stung the tears that were plastered against my cheeks.

As my feet hit the pavement at a steady pace, I felt myself begin to wonder; where was I going? My feet knew where they wanted to take me but something in my head told me not to.

I wanted to go talk to Jake about everything. After all, he's one of the two people that had been completely truthful with me. With everything.

My thoughts switched from Jake to Austin; and I got the same feeling that I did with Jake. I shook it off quickly, and went with my feet's decision.
_



I made my way to the 4 seasons, and once I got into the lobby- I knew something was wrong. The normally polished, classy, problem free hotel was the complete opposite; darkness engulfed the room besides the dim light shining in from the doors behind me. A few pieces of furniture were flipped onto their sides, vases were broken, their sharp pieces splayed among the normally glossy, now footprint-filled wooden flooring. Pamphlets were thrown carelessly around the desk area, and pictures were broken.

As I stepped forward, a crunch came from beneath my worn-in Vans. I lifted my foot to see room keys scattered in every direction. I bent down and picked through the small objects quickly before my eyes darted upward to the sound of banging above me.

Standing up, I started for the stairs knowing it was quicker than the elevator.

Once I reached the 13th floor, Jake's, I was out of breath but hurried down the hall. Searching for a door that seemed familiar enough to be Jake's, although I'd only been here once before and they all looked exactly the same, I managed to find his suite.

It was at the end of the hallway, and I was facing directly towards it. I approached it carefully, knowing that something- or someone was in there- but I kept walking.

My phone buzzed through my back pocket making me piss my pants,

"Hello?" I asked, feeling my hands tense up from the scare. "Charlotte you need to get out of there," Harry pleaded as my eyebrows drew together in confusion. "What?" I continued, "How do you know where I am?"

"Just get out of there now," by the pace of his breath I could tell that he was running, but why? "Why?" I asked silently, looking towards the door facing me. "Fuck, just hide Charlotte!" he yelled through the phone, in a mixture if desperateness and panic.

The door swung open widely revealing faces that were both familiar and unfamiliar but either way, unfriendly as hell. I was turned around a running at that point, my phone still pressed to my ear as Harry's panicked words filled them.

I pressed end and slid the phone into my back pocket quickly, running down the seemingly endless hall.

Gunshots came in every direction, hitting the walls around me. I grasped the edge of the wall because I was going to fast to make the sharp turn of the hallway meeting the stairs and as I did, a bullet came in contact with my skin, nicking a spot off my index finger.

I cursed loudly and skipped down the stairs to speed up my pace, as the stairs ended I was lost within a world of doors. Sprinting down the hall, I slid into a door and pressed the lock in.

Making my way back, my hands pressed against sturdy wall- of all the fucking doors I chose a damn closet? I discarded the failed attempt from my thoughts, and dropped to the ground moving my hands around the cool floor. The darkness was overwhelming but I'd managed to find boxes and pushed them against the door.

I scooted backward, pressing myself against the wall. Fingering around my pocket I came to the realisation that I'd dropped my phone. Probably while turning that fucking corner. Dammit.

I crawled around the back of the closet, trying to find a vent like Austin had the first time we'd met. It was so clever, yet it made me wonder what had caused him to know there was a vent there in the first place.

My fingers ran across a metal surface, and my shaky hands began to search for screws. I could stick a bobby pin and twist, then be gone. Panic set in as found one, and withdrew a bobby pin from my hair. Footsteps.
They sounded from the hallway; boots hitting the wooden floor rapidly, whoever it was, was running.

I hurried my fingers along, blood streaming down my left hand and a stinging sensation filling it as I did. They drew closer, and I could feel the tears welling in my eyes. "Shit, shit, shit," I whispered on breath.

And the footsteps stopped.