The quiet was overwhelming, sickening. I stared at the bookshelf, though my eyes saw nothing but a constant replay of Harry with a gun held to my throat, Harry with his lips harshly pressed against mine. My mind refused to stop repeating the last twenty-four hour's events, and I knew it was wearing on me as I leaned rigidly back into the couch.
It had been an hour since I'd left that room. The boys hadn't moved until I did. They didn't speak and they didn't look at me. Even when I deliberately stared at them for a good minute they refused to so much as shift in their seats. I had given up, opting for ridding myself of the horrible, almost palpable, tension that had settled over the room.
The living room just to the right of the main entrance of the mansion proved to not be much better. Books were still strewn everywhere from when Harry had retrieved his pistol from the shelves. The thought made me shudder, especially when I considered what other kinds of weapons might be hidden carelessly about.
I didn't leave though. I didn't know anything about this place, and the vastness of it scared me. With my luck, I'd stumble right into the wrong area, just like I always seemed to.
I wasn't alone in the room for much longer though as Louis strode confidently in and sat across from me. My gaze didn't shift to him until he noisily cleared his threat, demanding my attention. I waited, my face portraying nothing but a blank expression while Louis looked absolutely angry.
"I'm sorry," he finally forced out. I raised an eyebrow, surprised by his unnecessary apology. "For Harry, I mean," he elaborated, a shaky breath falling from his parted lips as he leaned back into the seat he occupied. "It's just, I don't think you realize--"
"I believe this is my conversation to have with her." Louis and I both looked up as Harry's voice resounded around the room. He was leaning against the doorway, arms folded tightly over his chest. I noticed that he had changed clothing. Instead of wearing all dark clothes, a thin white v-neck stretched across his chest followed by sweatpants that didn't quite match his dark, angry demeanor.
"You really think that'd be wise?" Louis' voice sounded pained.
"I think if you don't get the fuck out I'm going to have to--"
"Harry," I chided, cutting off his threat as I stared at him in disbelief. "It's one thing to threaten me. You're mad at me, I get it. I'm mad at you too. But Louis did nothing wrong here. If anything, he doesn't even belong in this situation, so you need to lay off of him."
Harry ignored me, instead glaring heavily at Louis. Slowly he sighed and stood up, glancing back down at me with an almost sympathetic expression. Harry cleared his throat, obviously not pleased with the fact that Louis was still in the room. He left immediately, leaving the space to just Harry and I.
I returned my attention to the bookshelf, uninterested in watching Harry simply stare at me. Out of the corner of my eye I watched as he moved to position himself where Louis had previously sat.
"Look at me," he said, his voice flat.
I didn't listen, my gaze refusing to shift.
"I said to look at me Alice," he growled angrily. "Do you want me to--"
Finally, I turned my head and he cut off mid-sentence. "Does every word out of your mouth have to be in the form of a threat?" I snapped bitterly. I almost instantly regretted my rude statement when Harry's eyes darkened and he leaned forward, his elbows resting against the tops of his knees as his face neared mine. I stood my ground, not backing away even when his face was inches from mine.
"I'll say whatever the fuck I want," he whispered. His hot, minty breath hit my face and I shuddered involuntarily, taking the chance to lean back. He smirked at my reaction and returned to his former position.
