Twisted

“He’s going to be knocked out for a few hours.” Louis explained to me briefly, getting off the side of Harry’s bed. He sighed heavily, smoothing his jacket. He looked stressed; almost genuinely worried over Harry’s sake. Does Louis actually care about Harry? The two of them did seem close, but I found myself wondering if perhaps Louis genuinely cared about Harry.
As soon as Louis found Harry, he snapped into action. Apparently Louis’s mom was a nurse, and Louis had picked up a thing or two from her. He had all kinds of medicines to treat things like this—he had cleaned Harry’s wounds thoroughly with swaths, and he had tons of painkillers for when Harry woke up. Louis didn’t exactly explain every little thing that was wrong with Harry, but judging by the worried look on his face, I figured Harry’s condition was pretty serious.
It was a bit more serious of that. By that, I mean Louis had to throw away countless of swaths that had soaked through with blood.
While Louis attended Harry, I stayed in the doorway silently. I still pictured the blood pooling around Harry. I could still see his small, careless smirk dripping with blood.
I would never forget that.
“You…you almost died.”
“Who cares?”
I flinched a little when Louis set his hand on my shoulder, finally bringing his somber blue eyes to meet mine. He stared at me heavily for a few seconds before saying quietly, “You saved him, you know.”
I said nothing as Louis looked me over. Eventually he stepped away from me and began walking out of the room.
Then I said, “I couldn’t just leave him there.”
He nodded in response. “Well, I don’t think he’ll be happy if you…left. So I’d advice you to stay here.” He didn’t sound stern or cold-hearted; he sounded nonchalant. “I’ll lock everything up, just in case.” As I heard him walk out, I heard him mumble under his breath, “We’ll find those bastards. They’re good as dead.”
And then it was just me and an unconcious Harry.
I stared at him for a few seconds, strangely unable to look away. His head was leaned back against the propped up pillow, and his hands were set in front of him, hanging limply—lifeless. His hair was messy and tousled, looking like a broken mess, and I could see his face turning discolored from the bruises. Louis had taken Harry’s shirt off earlier, revealing deep gashes in his skin most likely from scraping on the concrete floor. Louis had tried to stich a few, but he couldn’t tend to every single one of them. And there were so many.
However, along with the gashes were the monstrous bruises. They weren’t the kind of bruises you got if you tripped or ran into something—they were a deep purple-ish color, and they were large. They were so dark that they almost looked black. And there weren’t just one or two of them—they seemed to be everywhere my eyes looked. They actually reminded me of the pelt of a giraffe.
I don’t know why, but I felt almost hesitant to approach him. Louis had told me that Harry would be out for a few hours, but I still felt nervous around.
Even when he’s unconcious he has an affect on me.
As I sat on the edge of the bed I could now hear his soft, almost inaudible breathing. That was the only thing I could hear; everything else was an eerie silence. My eyes could not look away from the gruesome sight in front of me.
Harry looked bad.
No. He didn’t look bad.
He looked terrible.
I’d never seen someone look this terrible—alive that is.
My eyes traveled to his hand, seeing the bandage wrapped firmly around his wrist. Louis’s words rang in my mind.
“He cut himself.” Louis told me, “He was gripping the knife so hard that it sliced through his own skin.”
All he had was a knife to defend himself. Against four men.
Of course, Harry was actually fending for himself until that one man took out the gun. And then the game was over. There was no way he could possibly compete with a gun wieling a pocket knife. Guns were such an unfair advantage to fights.
That is, until I stepped in.
To this very moment I didn’t know why I didn’t run. I don’t know why I helped Harry. Even after all Harry did to me, I couldn’t just leave him there.
I finally tore my gaze off of him to servey the room. The lights were dimmed, but the door was open, allowing light to filter through the room.
I guess you could say I was a bit confused. Harry always told me he was the most feared guy in London. So who were those guys? Were they Vlad’s men? I remembered one of them mentioning that Harry broke his nose for trying to be part of his gang. Did they want revenge for that?
I started to cry.
I didn’t know why I started to cry, but there was some kind of pain in my chest, swelling until I couldn’t take it anymore. I sat there, sitting next to Harry, and cried silently. It wasn’t hysterical or sobs; it was a gentle, soft cry. I let the tears trickle down my cheeks, falling onto the front of my shirt as I looked back at Harry’s battered face. Even from here I could see the cut in his lip, and I saw a painful-looking slash on his cheek, ending right above his jaw.
Why am I crying?
I wiped desperately at my eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. Why should I be crying? Did I regret not running away?
No. I don’t regret this at all.
I pushed my hair out of my face, feeling the strands getting damp from my tears and finally felt like I was calming down. The tension inside of me was easing with my tears. Exhaustion was coming over me from my weeping, and as soon as I stopped, I got off the bed, wondering what else I could do.
It’s so quiet.
I walked over to the stereo Harry had played the other day and plugged it in. It took me a few moments to figure out how to work it—I wasn’t exactly up to date with technology—and soon, the gentle, soothing music was present in the room.
I let the music fill the emptiness of the room, drowning out the silence. My eyes once again fell on Harry’s broken form, and a dark, twisted part of my mind pictured him suddenly jumping out of the bed. I would see him smirking again, with blood oozing down his chin, and he would weild that knife.
Get yourself together, Claire. Harry was uncocnious—Louis said so.
I stepped out of the room, closing the door behind me. Even through the door I could hear the music. I stood there a few seconds, desperately trying to remain as calm as possible, and it was then I realized I was once again alone here.
I hate this place.
I walked down the hallway. Once like before, whenever I reached a light switch, I made sure to turn it on. I felt slightly better as soon as the light encased around me.
I eventually ventured off downstairs into the kitchen. The cookies I made the other night were in a zip-block bag, and I reached inside to retrieve one. It tasted sweet and soft in my mouth, practically melting. I ate it solemly, leaning into the counter, my thoughts drifting off once more.
Louis didn’t tell me what to do when Harry woke up. Do I just give him more of the pills he left? There were like 3 packets of pills, though. Which do I give him?
As I pondered this, I finished the cookie. I decided to have another one, after filling myself a glass of milk. I ate this second cookie, walking into the living room, and I found a window to look outside of. To my surprise, I saw that it was drizzling outside.
It was then I heard the soft patter of rain against the window. However, as I stared out into the stretching darkness inches from me, I grew nervous.
There are men out there…men who want Harry killed.
What if they came here?
I stepped away from the window, suddenly alert, and I glanced around, wide-eyed. I was all alone. If someone broke into the house, Harry wouldn’t be able to come to my rescue again.
Wait…did I just say ‘come to my rescue?’
I finished the last bit of the cookie, my stomach twisting now, and I nearly jumped a few feet in the air when a loud CRASH came from outside.
What was that?
I dove towards the floor, my entire body trembling and hid behind the sofa. I stayed completely still, praying that something had just toppled over.
And then there was nothing.
Hesitantly I raised my head, checking my surroundings. I kept my eyes peeled for any slight movement. But everything was still.
Just as I stood up, the CRASH came again. This time, it was followed by a BOOM. I let out a tiny yelp, falling to the floor again and began to breath irredularly.
I’m sick of living like this. Is this how Harry lives? Always having to fear the worst?
The house suddenly seemed a whole lot scarier to me.
The sound came again, and when I could hear the rain outside, I knew what it was.
Thunder.
Frowning at my paranoism, I stood up, my legs still trembling. I waited a few moments for the sound to repeat, and when it did, I sighed in relief.
It was only thunder.
Now you’re getting paranoid.
I felt like laughing at myself. However, my relief was short lived, for the next second passed before everything went black.
Everything.
My entire body grew completely still. Darkness was everywhere. The light’s must’ve went out. It was only a few moments that had passed before I literally felt like I was going to go under a panic attack. I immediately lurched forward, stretching my hands out and hoped to find something to lean into. My hands felt something soft—was it the sofa?—and I ventured a little further. My suspicions were correct. I slowly lowered myself into the sofa, my eyes desperately trying to adjust to the thick darkness.
Fuck.
I did not want to spend my night right here on this couch. In the dark. With thunder booming overhead.
I gathered enough courage to stand up from the couch, reaching forward like a blind person, and began walking towards the area where I thought the stairs were. Apparently I was going in the wrong direction, for my knee met something sharp and I nearly fell down.
Well, it’s not that way.
I turned another way, hoping this was the way. It was. I felt a wall meet my fingers, and I knew it was the wall where the stairs met. With newfound confidence, I raised a leg and began climbing the steps. I climbed these surprisingly easily; I knew there were no objects blocking the way. And there was only one way I could go—which was up. This reminded me a bit of the first night I came here.
The way from here was much easier.
There was a hallway to the right, and I would come to a door. Then, from this door, all I had to go was straight and Harry’s room was—I think—the 3rd room on the right. When I came to this, I was wrong. His room was the 2nd room from the right. I would’ve found his room much easier if the power had been on. The music was no longer playing from the stereo because the lack of electricity.
When I opened his door, my eyes immediately caught his motionless figure lying in the bed. And for some reason, I felt relief wash through me. I walked into the room, keeping the door open and wondered where I should sleep.
Another round of thunder boomed above, and I didn’t hesitate to crawl into the bed next to Harry. I made sure not to touch him in fear of breaking a stich or something, so I kept a safe distance between us. I carefully pulled a bit of the blanket out from under him, wrapping it snugly around me. Of course, I let Harry have most of the blanket, since he needed it the most.
But I felt a whole lot better next to him…which confused me. But I didn’t think too much on it. All I knew was that I had nothing to fear if I had Harry, right?
I was drifting in and out of sleep. The thunder kept jerking me out of dreaming, and I would lie there, wide-eyed, waiting for the next one to come. I had unconsiously moved closer to Harry throughout this time period.
Soon, I felt my arm brush against his.
And for once, I wish he was awake. I wish he was there to tell me that it was only thunder, even if he picked at my weakness for finding the dark scary. But instead I was left with this silent corpse, but it sure as hell was better than nothing.
I eventually curled into his side, being careful not to lean too much into him and fell asleep to the soft sound of his discreet breathing.
“Claire, a 75 in algebra isn’t going to do.”
“I know, Dad. I just have two missing assignments. Try to remember that this isn’t my report card; it’s a progress report. I’ll pick it up by the end of the 6 weeks.”
“How do you have two missing assignments?” My mom had joined in now.
My face flushed under their watchful gaze. “I, uh, guess I forgot.”
“You can’t forget to do your homework!” My mom exclaimed.
My dad looked disappointed in me. “Don’t you have a journal to keep up with everything?”
“Yeah, but I guess I forgot to write it in.”
“Give me your phone.”
“What?” My eyes widened. “B-but it’s not my report card! I can pick this up!”
“Claire, listen to your father. I’ll bet this phone is what’s distracting you from doing your best with your grades.”
I sighed before reluctantly handing my phone to my dad, who was still eyeing me disapprovingly.
I hated how he looked at me. Like I was letting him down.
“You have to have the highest grades possible, Claire, for you to get into college.”

I woke up to find myself staring right at Harry.
The room was still slightly dim, but I knew it was in the morning. I didn’t know the exact time, but I didn’t move from my spot.
Harry wasn’t in the same position as he was in last night. This time, his face was towardsme, looking right at me. However, he looked like he was still asleep. I saw that his hands were now grabbing a hold of the blanket, holding it to him droopily. There were a few stray, tiny curls getting in his eyes, but it didn’t matter much since they were closed.
But his face…
Shoockingly, the cuts didn’t look as bad as they looked last night. I guess I was just a little shaken from what I had witnessed, seeing Harry almost get beaten to death. But his face was still nasty—a lot of cuts and I could also see a scrape on his chin.
I couldn’t see his torso, since the blanket was covering it.
“Stop staring at me.”
My heart jumped in surprise when Harry spoke. His voice was rough—very rough, almost like he was talking through sandpaper, and he opened his emerald eyes to peer at me.
“Good morning.” I said quickly, not knowing what else to say. I scrambled into a sitting position, Harry just continuing to stare at me. “Er, how do you feel?”
“How does it look like I feel?” He replied dryly, obviously not in a very good mood.
I sighed, ignoring the hurt feeling in my chest, and rose from the bed. I decided to use the restroom. But before I could walk to the door, I felt Harry grab my wrist. I forced myself not to look at him.
“Where are you going?”
“Bathroom.”
“You’ll come back, right?” Harry’s tone had a sense of warning in it.
I nodded and he released me.
I hurried out of the room, letting out a deep breath as soon as I exited. Okay, so Harry wasnot in a good mood. As I went to release myself, I tried to remember what Louis had told me the day before:
“As soon as he wakes up, give him the pills with the white cap. But he has to eat with it, or he might get sick and experience bad side effects. And if that pill doesn’t help, use the pill with the blue cap. The pills in the blue cap will knock him out for a few hours.”
When I came back into the room, Harry was sitting up a little more on the bed, his arms crossed over his chest. His head was hung, but when I opened the door, he slowly looked up.
At first, I thought he was angry. I tried to think of a reason why he would be mad at me.
“Are you…angry with me?” I asked hesitantly, breaking the prolonged silence.
“No.” He replied raspily. “I just can’t move my face.” He pointed to his face, and it was then I remembered how messed up his face was. Of course. It must physically hurt to even move his face.
“Here, you have to take some medicine.” I told him, going over to the side table to open the bottle of pills. I pulled out a small white pill, setting it down, remembering Harry has to eat with it.
I glanced over at him, and when I did, he snapped.
“Claire, stop fucking looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m deformed.”
I winced a little. Maybe I did stare at him a little. But I couldn’t help it, could I? He literally looked like a walking corpse.
“I’m going to get you something to eat.” I told him hastily, hurrying past him. I went downstairs to find two cookies, pouring him a glass of water, and returned to find him trying to walk towards the door.
“Sit down!” I exclaimed, nearly dropping the cup. I quickly set everything down and went to help Harry sit back down.
But he waved me off, giving me a brief glare.
“Harry, you’re not supposed to walk.”
He mumbled something incoherent.
I touched his arm, trying to goad him back to the bed. “Lie down. You can’t walk; Louis said so.”
“Fuck!” Harry suddenly growled, clutching his abdomen. A painful look crossed his features, his eyes shutting tightly closed, and it was then I firmly grabbed his arm to force him back to the bed. He lied down without a complaint, sighing loudly when he leaned back into the pillow.
“I feel like,” Harry grumbled, “I got ran over my a bus five times.”
You sure look like it.
“Here, eat these.” I went to grab his cookies, along with the pill and his drink. “And swallow this pill. It’ll…take away the pain.”
What does this pill do?
Louis never did tell me. He just told me to give it to Harry.
Harry ate the two cookies in moments flat, not saying another word. I stood in front of the bed, waiting for him to finish. As soon as he did, he swigged down the pillow and handed the empty cup back to me. I set it back down on the table.
I thought he’d want to be left alone, so I turned to leave. But once again, he stopped me.
“Where are you going?”
“Downstairs.”
“I want you to stay here.” He said matter-of-factly.
“You should try to rest.” I replied softly, forcing myself to look at him.
“I don’t want to rest.” He mumbled, and I saw a strange expression fall over him. Did…did he not want to sleep?
Maybe…dreams? Did he have nightmares?
I reluctantly sat on the edge of the bed. However, I felt Harry grab my wrist, tugging me to him. At first I protested, trying to break away from him, but Harry used what little strength he had left to pull me over his lap, my legs straddling his waist. I sat straight up, afraid I may hurt him or something, but he had no indication of any harm.
His arms wrapped limply around my waist, and his eyes were staring up into mine.
Why is he looking at me like that?
“Stay right here.” He murmured, his voice sounding different. “Right…here.”
Whatever pills Louis wanted to give him, I could tell they were strong and worked fast. Already I could tell they were getting a hold of him, because his eyes grew unfocused and his words seemed to slur together.
“Am I hurting you?” I asked as he pulled me closer. I stiffened when his hands started to slowly lower.
“Claire, do you know that you’re mine?”
I sighed. “Harry—”
“—answer me.” He cut me off, and I licked nervously at my lips when his hands cupped my ass.
I decided to go along with it, just for this once.
“Yeah.” I said halfheartedly. “I’m yours.”
He seemed pleased with my answer. I started to feel his hand slowly begin to lift my shirt from the back, venturing underneath over my bare skin. I felt a shiver run down my spine from the feeling of his fingers lightly trailing across my bare skin.
“I’ll take care of you.” Harry told me, his lips barely moving.
Who’s going to protect me from you?
He looked away from me, his mind obviously going elsewhere, and his fingers stopped moving over my skin. Now, he just propped my back with his large hands. I saw him biting the inside of his cheek.
“You’re so beautiful,” He murmured, and my entire body froze.
Did he just…compliment me?!
Yeah…it was the drugs having an effect over me.
“So pure, innocent.” Harry’s voice was raspy as he withdrew one hand to cup my cheek. His eyes looked right in to mine. “So…easy to destroy.”
“Harry…?” I said uncertainly.
“Claire, I knew I had to have you when I saw you that night.” Harry told me, licking at his chapped lips. His eyes were glazed over with the effects of the drugs, and I knew he wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. “Do you remember that night? It was storming, and I saw you and you were so beautiful.”
I tried to look away from him, my cheeks blushing profoundly. I didn’t know how to respond to what he was saying—it was so unlike him.
“Do you know why I wanted you?” Harry asked.
“Why?” I asked quietly, not knowing if I really wanted to know the answer. I was expecting him to go off about my ‘innocence’ again, or talk about how he just wanted something—or someone—to have complete control over.
“When I was 17,” Harry started, sitting up a little more. His hands had retreated out from my shirt, and they were now rested firmly over my thighs, keeping me pinned down on him. “I worked really hard to get into this gang. They were the typical low-life gang, but I needed to get into something. So, I had to things for them to prove my loyalty.”
“What’d you have to do?”
“I had to do a few things. They weren’t signifigant; just things that proved my strength and loyalty to them. But my last test was what screwed me over.” Harry’s eyes had started to glisten—was he actually upset thinking about this?—and his jaw clenched together. I felt his hands tighten into fists. Such a drastic change had taken over him that I felt suddenly very nervous.
“Harry—”
“—they brought in a girl, I don’t know how old she was. Maybe my age. Apparently her dad was a member of the gang and had betrayed them. So they decided to use her as part of the test.” Harry explained. “I was in a room at the warehouse, where the main headcourters was. When they brought her in, they told me to rape her.”
Oh my god.
“And if I disobeyed them, they would kill me on the spot. That was part of the test—if you failed, they would kill you.” His lips rose a little, weakly, and he added, “It was a gruesome test. You either pass, or you die.”
“You remind me of that girl.” Harry breathed, reaching up to find a stray hair of mine, twisting it thoughtfully with his long fingers. “She had hair like yours. And she had that innocent aura about her. I knew she was a virgin. I knew she had never done anything like this.”
My face had paled signifigantly at this point of his story.
“And I couldn’t just rape her.” Harry grumbled bitterly. “I had to be rough. I had to dominate her. Those were their exact words. As a member of the gang, I had to do what I was told. I was expected to ignore all my previous morals and just do what I was fucking told. No questions asked. No complains—nothing.”
“Did you…?” I asked, my stomach clenching. No…just…no…
“So, I did what I was told. I treated her like she was the dirt on the ground.” Harry mumbled. “At first, she struggled. She even elbowed me in the chest. But I stopped all this by lashing out of self-defense, striking her right on the jaw. She started crying. She was yelling at me, calling me all kinds of names, but when I started to take off her clothes, that’s when she started to beg. She begged for her life. She begged me to stop. But I couldn’t stop.”
My throat had tightened up in a matter of seconds, and I suddenly didn’t want to be anywhere near Harry anymore. I had began to get off of him when he grabbed my wrist tightly, his eyes darkening.
“Where are you going?”
“I-I—”
“No. You’re staying right here.” He had closed his eyes for a few seconds. I had thought he must’ve fallen asleep, but he opened them moments after. His eyes had grown shockingly gentle—which I’ve never seen before—and his grip on my wrist loosened a little.
“She was the first girl I had ever raped. And she was the last one.”
I quirked a shaky eyebrow, not having to ask him out loud. He’s only raped one girl?
Harry’s damaged lips rose into a half, cheeky smirk. “It’s not rape if it’s willing. Do I look like the kind of guy that has to force people to have sex with him?”
“So,” I said slowly, carefully, ignoring his cockiness, “you’ve never raped anyone else after that?”
Harry shrugged halfheartedly, his features suddenly looking tired. His shoulders were slumped and his voice had gotten quieter. “It’s all an image.”
An image?
“I have to make people fear me.” Harry told me, his lips barely moving. “It’s like an illusion; I have people thinking I’ve raped any women in sight, and they immediately fear me. Women throw themselves at my feet, a pathetic attempt of seeing some kind of safety.”
An illusion?
I’m so confused right now.
“Harry,” I said finally, “I’m not quite following here.”
“Claire.”
“Yeah?”
He closed his eyes tightly, his eyebrows furrowing. “My head feels fucked up. It feels numb.”
“It must be the pills.”
And suddenly, he started chuckling lowly. But his laughter grew louder, and soon, his eyes were tightly closed, his lips splitting to open his mouth and laugh. I was so shocked from the strange sound. It wasn’t a mocking or bitter laughter; it was a boyish laugh, innocent and…normal.
“Hey Claire?”
This couldn’t be happening. Harry sounded like a normal guy. He had a genuine smile, and I saw something in his eyes I haven’t seen before.
“Yes?” My voice nearly broke at the end. I felt like I was seeing the face of God.
“There was a man driving down a road.” Harry told me. “And there was also a woman driving down the same road but coming from the opposite direction. They pass each other, and the woman yells out of her window, ‘Pig!’ The man yells an insult back at her, wondering why the hell she was so hostile. When the man drove past the curve, he crashes into a pig in the middle of the road.” Harry started laughing again. His lips were split too far, breaking the scab over it, and blood began running down his chin again. It didn’t seem to bother him, though.
I smiled a little at his “joke,” glad it wasn’t overly morbid.
Harry eventually stopped chuckling. When he did, his head fell back against the pillow, and his face went completely blank again. I knew he must feel really numb right now. And hoenstly, it would be best for him to have some rest. So I got off of him, and was a little shocked when he didn’t even protest. He just stared ahead, his shoulders still slumped.
“Harry,” I said, picking up his empty glass, “I’m going to give you more medicine, okay? Then you can sleep.”
He didn’t reply.
I hurried to the bathroom to fill up the cup with water. When I returned, I pulled out the pill out of the other pill bottle and handed it to Harry. He swallowed it without another word.
“Why did you help me?” Harry asked, barely audible. But I heard him. I stayed near his open door, lingering for a moment.
“I couldn’t just leave you there.” I admitted quietly.
“You should have.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. “Harry, why would you say something like that?” Harry is a confused mess right now. He’s not even the same person. Whatever Louis gave him, it was strong as hell.
He didn’t reply. He only closed his eyes, and it looked like he was succumbing to sleep. So I walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind me.
I called Louis, and he answered on the third ring.
“How’s Harry?” He was right to business.
“He’s fine. The first pill made him act very strange.”
“It’s a highly concentrated pain killer.” Louis explained. “It’ll have some side effects. Did you give him the second pill?”
“Yeah. What does that one do?” For some reason, I didn’t feel nervous talking to Louis over the phone. I sat on the sofa downstairs, overlooking the fireplace, and held the phone to my ear gingerly.
“It’ll put him to sleep.”
Put him to sleep.
Sleep.
I let out a sudden gasp when I remembered something—more like someone. Oh. My. God.
How the hell could I forget about Kim? I guess I was so caught up from what happened last night that I had forgotten about Kim.
“Louis?”
“Hm.” He sounded like he was distracted by something. “Hey, you’ll have to be quick. I’m in the middle of something.”
“Is Kim alright?”
“Who’s Kim?”
“My friend. The girl Zayn had yesterday.” My voice had gotten quieter. I felt overridden with guilt, eating away at my insides. I was such a terrible person for forgetting about her. What kind of friend was I?
“She’s fine. Niall is actually with her right now.”
Niall?
“Is she alive?” I asked, slightly dreading the response.
Louis hesitated and I swore the world had stopped turning.
“She’s, uh, unconcious right now. But don’t worry, she’ll be fine.” Louis said finally.
My breath halted in my throat. Oh, how I could visit her right now—protect her the best I could. I felt my lower lip begin to tremble, and tears began forming in my eyes. I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them tightly.
“Are you sure she’ll be fine?”
“I arranged a deal with Zayn.” Louis said quickly. “I guess you can say it’s a reward for what you did yesterday. Don’t tell anyone—especially Harry. I’m not exactly supposed to give you rewards.”
I could tell he was smiling.
And I smiled, too. Tears still slipped past my cheeks, but they were tears of relief. She was fine. Kim is fine.
And according to Louis, Zayn wasn’t going to mess with her again.
So saving Harry yesterday really did pay off.
“Thank you, Louis.” I said, wiping at my eyes shakily.
“Call me if you have any questions.” Louis replied quickly before swiftly hanging up. But I didn’t care.
Maybe Louis isn’t all that bad…

Notes

Whoo! A long chapter, even though nothing really happened! x) Sorry if this chapter wasn't as intense as the other ones. I want to thank ALL OF YOU for all the views.

Didn't upload again for a month. Ugh! I sucked!, I probably lost some readers in here. :(
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