Social Suicide (Texting Harry Styles)

8

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 23 2018

The dream that I always had blurred away as a wet sensation on my cheek caught my attention.

“Gross, Jacob!” I wiped my face. I opened my eyes to see my German Shepherd’s blue orbs directly in my view. “What is it?”

He whined loudly.

Harry stirred next to me when Jake started to bark.

It was a warning.

I instantly felt sick. It’s the same sound he woke me up with almost five years ago, on the worst day of my life.

“You have a dog?” Harry asked in a sleepy voice, shocked and amused.

Binx jumped on the bed after Jacob put his paws up next to me. She climbed on my chest and meowed angrily into my face.

I cringed but moved to sit up. Binx jumped down and ran off.

“And a cat?”

Jake barked again then started to back out of the room. He wanted me to follow him.

“Jacob?” I called in a weak voice.

I forced my jelly legs to carry me out. I couldn’t deny how terrified I was. The last time he did this, he led me to my mother’s dead body.

Harry stopped behind me, leaning against my doorframe.

The fridge door was open. Did Molly forget to shut it?

Binx was on the counter, staring at me. Jake was standing at the edge of the kitchen, staring a few feet in front of him at the floor.

“Jacob.” He acted like he didn’t hear me.

I walked over to see what had his attention.

My heart dropped to my stomach and I involuntarily let out a blood curdling scream.

“Molly!”

I fell to my knees in the pool of blood, lifting Molly by her shoulders.

“Molls, can you hear me?” I pressed two fingers to her throat. “Harry, I can barely feel a pulse!”

He ran back to my bedroom to find his phone. I heard him dial while I gave her CPR.

“What the hell happened?! Where’s all the blood coming from?”

The front door wasn’t open. I tried looking for a wound, but nothing was visible.

That’s when it came to me. I lifted up her dress to confirm.

“Oh, no. No, no, no...”

“What is it?”

I kept repeating the same word over and over to myself. I couldn’t listen to Harry’s voice trying to comforting me. All I could focus on was pumping Molly’s heart for her.

“Please, please, please... Please. Please,” I begged her. The tears wouldn’t stop flowing. The strain on my chest was painful and my head was pounding.

Harry told the emergency operator what was going on, and it felt like hours before EMTs pounded on the door.

“What’s her name and age? How long has she been unconscious?” one of the paramedics asked. I took a deep breath.

“Molly Usinov. She’s twenty. At least a half hour. She was already out when I found her.”

“Is this her blood? How was she injured?“ The uniformed man and woman got Molly on the gurney.