stockholm syndrome // h.s

fourteen.

[a.n: i would just like to say that this is definitely my favorite chapter so far and not gonna lie I may or may not have :"( ]

*Jackies* Point of View

My eyes drifted open slowly, blinking several times as my vision focused on the bare ceiling above me.

I patted the empty bed around me, confused as to how I got into the bed in the first place.

I sat up in the motel bed, slinging the bed covers away from my rested body and placing my feet on the floor beside the bed.

As soon as my feet hit the floor the motel door almost simultaneously flew open, practically making a hole in the wall as the door knob slammed against it.

Harry lingered in the door way, his shoulders squared, eyebrows tightly furrowed and gaze averted harshly on mine. His eyes were heavily glossed over, to the point where they were practically shimmering. His head was hanging low and both his hands were gripping the door panels, as if he was using them to hold his body weight from crashing down.

"Harry?" I half whispered slightly afraid but more confused as he continued standing there completely still, eyes deadlocked with mine and an almost devilish expression painted across his face and all of his features.

My immediate thought was a clear one, he was drunk, or at least that's what it looked like, but even so, for an unknown reason, every fiber of my being wanted nothing more than to run up to the poor boy and hug him tightly, all the while reassuring him that as long as he had me the terrors that haunt him as he shuts his eyes to rest will wither away as he's safely tucked in my arms, but did he even want that? Possibly, he didn't even want me to touch him at first. I guess, more importantly did I want that? Maybe more than I should.

With one quick movement Harry switched his body around, like he was going to run away, run away from me, the motel and the memories of last night.

I strained my eyes so I could try and see where he was walking off too, but all I could make out from my spot on the bed was that he was throwing objects around in the back of his van, like he was searching for something that he needed desperately.

seconds later he emerged from the exterior of his van, but he acquired something he hadn't had before, he found what he so desperately was searching for... A half empty bottle of Jack Daniels.

I continued watching as he walked back up to the the (opened) motel door, his feet were missing steps every few seconds, it almost looked as if he was dancing up to the door and as a result he almost dropped the bottle he was so preciously carrying on more than one occasion.

He eventually made it to the door entering the room not-so-effortlessly and stopped directly in front of me at the foot the bed.

His pained, glossy eyes never left my fragile, fearful ones as he raised the bottle of Jack Daniels to his lips, slowly tipping it over to satisfy his selfish thirst, not even flinching as a third of what was left in the bottle coursed through his emotionless body and entered his bloodstream.

Harry eventually chugged the entire remains of the Jack Daniels down within seconds, emitting a displeased grunt when he realized there was no more of the harsh liquid flowing into his mouth.

Harry clumsily tossed the empty glass bottle to the floor right beside him, and surprisingly it didn't shatter into a million pieces, but rather thudded on the carpet and rolled away till the wall interrupted its journey.

I gulped as I continued staring at the now motionless bottle lying up against the wall.

Bitter cold knuckles suddenly brushed my cheek, I turned to face the owner of the knuckles, holding them in place as I glanced forward, looking up from my seat on the bed directly into his eyes.

I sat there in almost a trance, still pressing Harrys frigid hand to the apple of my cheek.

Every intoxicated person I've ever been around in my life usually take on a new persona when they're drunk, which usually includes ruthlessness, anger, and just plain bitterness toward everything.

Alcohol is a depressant, which basically means if you drink to "get out of your own thoughts" or to "temporarily forget something" (such as something as traumatic as night terrors) than it's the worst thing you can do, it makes you feel so much worse about it.

I was brought out of my thought as Harry lazily let his hand fall from its place on my face.

I glanced back up at him, but this time something was different, his expression and posture was suddenly tense, and that's when it happened, his eyebrows fell, his eyes closed tightly shut and his lips formed the most sorrowful, painful expression one could imagine.

It was the face of boy who was tired of suffering, the face of a boy who stooped to a desperate low to aid his pain even just temporarily and possibly even a face of a boy who, on top of all those things, was in love.

and for another unknown reason, that same boy collapsed in my arms forcing me back down onto the bed, pulling our body's as close as they would humanly fit together, I wrapped my small arms around his muscular torso in response, ignoring the fact that his muscles were ice cold and the smell of alcohol on his breath was so strong It practically gave me a head ache, but for one last unknown reason, I didn't care, because frankly whether I liked it or not, Harrys fist were wrapped tightly around my heart, pulling it closer and closer, until it was his.

(A.N: wowowowowowwoW. Comment any questions you may have about the story so far or just any other feedback in general!! I'll make sure to answer them! What did you guys think of this chapter? Also thank you so much for 12k reads like wow how did that even happen !! As always, much love xx.

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-janah)