"Think you can take me?" I arched an eyebrow.
"Are you doubting me?" She answered.
//
Natalie Perkins, born in London. The FBI is after her for the assassination of fourteen men. All of them brutally murdered one day of the week, all of them left wi...
I thought it'd be easy to run but my legs are broken All alone All we know Is haunting me Making it harder to breathe, harder to breathe
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I had been stuck in my mind for the past hour. Harry hadn't left his room since the fight, and I was afraid I really fucked up this time. I knew he was scared of me and what I could do, but actually committing the actions was a completely different thing from just coating his senses with the threat.
I didn't mean to hurt him, that's why I had been crying for over forty five minutes.
I was pretty sure I hadn't actually caused physical damage, and I was aware he knew this was my period speaking, but it all felt so wrong. And I was thinking about the possibility I had inflicted emotional pain which, seeing it with my eyes, was worst than any kind of material grief.
This had never happened to me, especially since I had never been under so much pressure while I was on my period. Letting my hormones take control of my body was inevitable, but I fucking wished none of this had ever happened. I had to apologize.
I never admitted to be sorry unless it was extremely necessary, because something about regretting my actions made me feel so fucking weak and vulnerable. The thing was, this time I knew I had to talk to Harry. After all, he was just trying to protect me.
I was still adamant on going to that event, but that didn't mean I couldn't talk to him civilly, I could convince him and that would be the end. I really wanted it to be the end, I couldn't take the pressure anymore.
But now, Harry was practically foreshadowing what would happen tonight. I was going to get us both killed for sure, the possibilities were up to at least ninety percent. But as the stupid bitch I was, I had decided to support that ten percent of happy endings left.
I was going to go to this event, because dying wasn't such a bad option after all.
I couldn't fixate off of Harry and his reaction, how pissed off he was about my decisions. I didn't want to admit he was right, because he was, but I didn't want him to be. I was too stubborn to let go, I wasn't going to skip a perfect opportunity to take down those motherfuckers just because of my period.
And so, if he didn't want to come with me, then I would go on my own. Why was he even caring anyways? From my point of view, if I died, he was going to be free of any threats and he would be able to go back to his old life, which he was craving so bad for.
Seeing it from the underside, I couldn't blame him completely. Since yesterday night, he had grown more attached to me and vice versa, so that would explain why he didn't want me to go to that fundraiser. But was what happened yesterday enough for him to be willing to get punched in order to protect me?
I wanted an explanation on his concern, because it really looked like he had some serious attachment issues. Well, maybe. I mean, I had no idea what he was like because we never had a serious conversation to know more about each other. None of us cared enough for it, so we were basically strangers.
