babylon » h.s.

journal entry nine

Journal Entry Nine

Today was...an interesting day. I lost myself in the elevator up to my apartment with Allison. I pushed myself onto her because I couldn't take it anymore. I lost control.

The voices didn't tell me to do it, in fact they were completely against it, but I didn't listen to them. When I was kissing Allison, it was like they never existed. Her scent, her presence, her aura, her taste all consumed my senses.

But I refused to believe that that...she-devil, that little minx didn't cast a spell on me to make me feel this way. It had to witchcraft, for me to feel and think these things. I needed my control back, my power.

And no little witch is going to prevent me from holding the power that's rightfully mine.

-H.

----

"Geez mate, you're fucking whipped." Harry's friend, Louis Tomlinson sat next to him at a bar the next day, looking at him as he took a swig of beer.

"'Whipped'?" Harry parroted, bewildered as he took a sip of his scotch. "Do you even know what whipped means? Nothing I told you indicates that I'm whipped!"

Harry tried to calm down but it seems like after yesterday, keeping his composure seemed like more of a rigorous task than usual.

"Hey, I was joking around," Louis said, patting Harry on the back, making him tense with the sudden gesture of comradeship. "But she really doesn't seem like any of the other women you've been with."

"For starters, she's black," he said blatantly, taking a sip of his scotch. "You know how I usually like my women—"

"'Wonder bread'?" His friend finished, a smirk on his face. "Face it mate, you'll never be able to branch out of your comfort zone. Unlike me, who has a whole list of exotic models to choose from."

Louis owned his managerial business for models, where he supplied models in the New York City area with managers to support their careers.

"I did a little digging on your therapist like you asked me to," he changed the subject, pulling a paper from the inside of his suit jacket. "Turns out, one of her friends is under my company, and she lives in your East Village building."

Harry nodded his head and took the paper from his hands, folding it before tucking it into his own pockets.

"Thanks, Lou," he said, lifting the corner of his lips slightly to show his gratitude. "Call me later, I have to head back to the office."

"Sure thing," Louis responded, before watching Harry walk out the door to catch a cab.

--

Harry surveyed the floor of the office, where he saw everyone hard at work, even though it was near closing time.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Styles," the receptionist Grace greeted, her smile unwavering. He sent a nod in her direction, and continued down the path to his office that was still relatively empty since the precious CEO was moved out.

But when he opened the door, he noticed a small box in the middle of his desk.

"Julia?" He called his assistant's name, who instantly scurried from her seat to his office.

"Yes sir?" She replied, nervously.

"Did someone deliver a package to my room?" He asked, going over to the table and lifting up the small box.

"Yeah, about two hours ago," she said, rubbing her sweat hands down her pencil skirt. "Why, sir?"

"Do you know who sent it?"