Cult

13: Run Ω

Louis shakes his head and sips his wine. I eye the red liquid. The crowd is probably wondering where I went, but I don't care. I am too stunned by the information Louis has told me to do anything but stare at him.

As much as I'd love to see Harry behind bars for his crimes, I would be lying if I said I didn't feel a little sympathy for him and what he has been through. I can't even imagine what it must feel like to witness the person you love violated and murdered. It doesn't excuse the fact that he has committed very serious crimes himself, but it does help me understand him a bit better.

Louis gives me his wine. 

"I think you need this more than me," he teases. I nod because he is right. A young man walks by the fountain. Louis snaps his fingers and the brown-eyed waiter I had seen earlier, turns. But when he spots Louis, he immediately turns and hurries off into the hotel again. What?

"Terrible service," Louis huffs. Another waiter comes by and refills our glasses. I take a long sip. Louis looks at my face. "You ok? Don't over do it, honey," he shakes his head warningly. I nod. 

"I know," I say. My voice sounds so weak, so strange. I shake my head. I am definitely not drunk, but I still can't think straight, mainly because of the information Louis just told me.

"I'd better go interview your dad's friends. I need to write a review of The Ball, for Monday," he grins, raising his glass to me.  I nod, unable to speak.

"Do you want me to get your boyfriend?" Louis asks.

"Yes," I reply hesitantly, but I don't like that he's using that word.

"Which one?" he smirks. I glare at him.  Right now, I honestly don't want to talk to anyone, not my dad or mom, or Zayn, and especially not Harry, but Zayn is probably my best bet.

"I was just kidding," Louis raises his hands in surrender.

I try to laugh. The beads of sweat on my fingers moisten the neck of my glass. The glass slips and falls, cracking against the fountain like shards of glittering ice. I suck on my thumb. A piece of the glass cuts my finger and droplets of blood ooze down to my palm.

Louis looks down at my hand as though it is the most revolting thing in a mile's radius. 

"L-let me get you a plaster for that, honey," he offers quickly. He comes back with a cloth and a band-aid and fastens it around my finger very quickly.

"Sorry, I just get a little queasy when I see blood," he admits. It was just a minor cut...

"It's ok. Thank you," I smile at him, still confused by his behavior.

The side door of the hotel opens rapidly. Zayn is running like damned lightening to get me. I stare at him, still annoyed by his rude suggestion earlier. It's more that I'm afraid to give myself to him, that I feel like I'm breaking my promise with Christ. Zayn is obviously beautiful and I have feelings for him, but I just don't know if he wants me for sex or if he sincerely cares about me. I shake my head. Isn't that what every girl wonders? College won't be any different. If anything, it'll be worse. 

Zayn rushes to me, his eyes stuck on mine as though his breath depends on it. He takes my hands in his and pulls me to his chest. Louis walks off, giving us a minute. He waves at me and leaves.  

I struggle to breath. Zayn is holding me so closely, I can feel his heart beat rising against my chest. His eyes are wide with worry and his hair is even slightly disheveled. Did he really go around looking for me?

“Kat, why did you run off like that?!” Zayn asks hurriedly.

“Because my parents are idiots," I tell him plainly.