Devotion [h.s]

217

Injustice
(in•jus•tice)
Violation of the right of others; unjust or unfair action of treatment

Amelia Adams

His words made a mix of fear and nausea cast over me. He looked at me with silence in his forest eyes. Immediately I turned around and ran.

"Amelia!" He said as I ran towards the stairs with tears dwelling my eyes.

No, he couldn't of. He wouldn't kill Mariah, he couldn't. I ran up the stairs as I heard him follow me and calling my name but I couldn't listen. I got to the top of the stairs with him a few step from behind me, racing to Mariah's door with my vision becoming blurry.

I grabbed the cold handle and few it open, not knowing what I was going to see at the other end but knew it could've been scarring.

The door opened wide and I was surprised to see that Mariah was asleep in her bed. She was half under the covers, facing my way and passed out. Her two hands were flat between her cheek in the pillow and her lips were lightly parted as she breathed.

She wasn't dead.

I turned around, looking at Harry standing not even a step behind me in his black apparel. He stares down at me in slight shock, looking quite intimidating in a black hoodie and blood stained into his skin.

"What are you doing?" He whispered while reaching next to me to shut her bedroom door without her waking up. I stared up at him in confusion, not understand what he did because I thought that blood was Mariah's.

As I stayed silent, he widened his eyes.

"Did you think I killed her?" He points at her closed bedroom door in shock. Acting like I was insane for thinking such things.

"You have blood stains on your hands and told me you couldn't let her go back there! Don't act like I'm crazy here!" I whisper shout, still at a loss of what's going on.

He grabs my arm and pulls me to our room, shutting the door behind us.

"I would not kill Mariah. I thought you had more faith in me then that." He says in offence.

"You're standing in the kitchen at nearly three in the morning with blood on your hands! What the hell is going on!" I shout as she shushed me immediately.

"I- I went out." He says, giving me a half asked answer.

"Harry. Who's blood is that?" I cross my arms as I was astounded I ever had to ask him this question. He paused for a moment, sighing under his breath. He avoided meeting my eyes, looking like a child who got in trouble at school.

"Gene's" He answers, making my stomach twist.

Harry Styles

12:16am

I sat in the corner of the dark room in a rocking chair, staring, analyzing, planning my next actions on the woman laying in the bed across from me.

The room was dark, but the moonlight made me able to see her laying in bed. I sat in the chair, rocking ever so slightly with my fingers intertwined and my elbows propped on the arm rests. My black hood was up while my black boots stayed glued to the old floorboards.

I was watching Gene sleep.

She was laid on her back, blankets tucked up to her chest and her mouth open. She had to have been in her mid fifties now. She had wrinkles all over her face and her once orange hair was now grey at the roots.