Broken Glass [h.s.]

nineteen

Harry

"What the hell are you doing here?" I hiss at him, and he shakes his head, a little smile on his face.

"He's clearly shocked. How about a nice warm bath? Niall!" He says, turning his head in the direction of the stairs.

An unknown blondie comes trotting down. "Oh dear" he says as if he knows me, "You really look like shit right now, mate. Definitely a warm bath, Louis" he takes me by the arm, gently freeing me from Aaron's grasp and pulls me up the stairs with him.

I turn around, looking at the guard by the door. "Hang on! Dove! You have to go get her! You have to!" I tell him, but he shakes his head.

"I'm sorry Mr Styles, but that's a risk I'm not going to take."

"You can't let her die! You can't let someone innocent die!" I shout at him.

Louis's icy eyes stop on me for a second, a glimpse of something I can't quite understand in them. "As I said, he's shocked."

My will to fight against the boy pulling me up the stairs dissipates at the cold words. "Out of all people, I thought you would understand" I growl at him.

"Out of all people, I thought you would know this is a hard world. We can do all we can to save someone, but we must stop when it's too late. And now, Harry, is too late" Louis says, "I'm sorry for your loss. But I also know you're no stranger to loss, you'll cope just fine."

I feel my eyes get wet at the mention of my mother and sister, but I refuse to cry in front of him. Or of everyone else, anyway. The blondie takes advantage of my fragile moment to pull me up the stairs harder, forcing me to follow him. He brings me into a room, there's a bathtub with warm water inside.

"Strip naked and get in here" he says, looking at me from the middle of the room.

"Don't I get some privacy?" I hiss at him.

"Sorry, mate" he says sympathetically, "I have to make sure you won't run away."

I glare at him from over my shoulder, making him cower away against the wall. "Just lock the fucking door and leave me alone" I say lowly, and he's fast to oblige.

When I'm alone I strip down my clothes and leave them on the floor. I move some slow steps on the hardwood floor towards the bathtub, my knees touching the smooth and cold surface as I look at my reflection in the water. I sigh and look away, to the window, searching the horizon for the entrance of the tunnel, just to realise that it's too far away. I don't even remember walking that long.

I slide in, goosebumps on my skin because of the fast change of temperature, leaning my head back against the cold surface, looking at the ceiling.

I feel nothing. Much to my surprise, I don't feel the happiness of having finally got to my destination, and I don't feel the sadness of having seen someone I care for die right before my eyes, once again. I don't feel anything.

I don't think of anything. No real thoughts swim inside my head. I can just focus on the ceiling, just barely, wondering what kind of wood it's made of. How long did it take for it to be built. How would it feel against my fingertips.

I sit up, and start scrubbing the dirt off my naked body. The bathtub is too small, forcing me to bend my long legs to fit in. I bet Dove would fit in just nicely. I shake the thought away, looking down. My body is clean, but the water has a slight pink tint now. Noticing a bucket full of clean water, I take it, and rinse the soap off my body - and off my hair - before stepping out, wrapping my arms around my middle, freezing cold and wet in the middle of an almost empty room. For the first time in years, I feel defenceless.

I find clean clothes and a fluffy towel. I dry my body and get dressed again, before trying the door. To my surprise, it's open. Blondie is waiting outside.

"Come on, mate" he says, way more cheerfully than it should be, "let me show you your room."

He walks me down the corridor to a big oak door. Aaron is standing next to it, a serious look on his face.

"You need to go get her" I tell him, but he opens the door, and doesn't reply.

"Get some sleep, Mr Styles" he murmurs, as I walk in, closing the door behind myself.

The room is huge. On one side there's a fireplace, the crackling flames inside warming up the entire room, on the other side there's a huge king sized bed, the mattress looking comfortable and inviting. On the same side of the bed there's also a desk with a chair, against the wall. In front of the fireplace there's a dark reddish armchair. From where I'm standing, the fabric looks expensive. Knowing my father, it probably is. In the middle of the room there's a carpet, of the same colour of the armchair, but of a darker shade. On the wall opposite to the door there's a huge window, the windowsill large enough for me to sit on comfortably. I take a few steps closer, and I notice that there's a pillow on it. It's on purpose. Outside, the sky is slowly starting to get a bluish tint, since it's too early for the sun to rise.

I walk to the bed, lying down on it, staring at the ceiling.

It's a bit darker than the one in the bathroom.

I close my eyes, even though I know I won't be able to drift off to sleep.