full throttle || h.s. ||

twenty-one || breaking through the unbreakable

the song for this chapter is, "I Feel Bad," by I Hate Myself Because :)

***********

I feel bad, when you just look at me
So please, don't you see?
I can't be alone
No, i feel bad when you don't look at me
So please, don't you see
I don't want to be alone

***********

Finley

      I scrambled into my clothes, hearing my heartbeat in my ears at a slow and repetitive beat that seemed to only increase with each second that passed.

    I knew Harry had killed people, I mean, for fuck's sake, I myself had held a gun to him not too long ago. But there was some sort of difference between knowing these things, and suddenly about to put blood from an unknown source in between your teeth, with possibly the cause of this blood having his face buried in between your legs. 

   I didn't know where that blood came from, but it looked to be far too much to have been from something like a shaving accident, and besides, there wasn't a single blemish on Harry's face, let alone any shaving cuts.

   The bathroom door slammed against the bedroom wall, and my eyes snapped up to see Harry walking slowly towards me, my eyes flicking down to see the bloodied cloth clutched tightly in between his ringed fingers. 

   "What's the hurry, Little Red? You look like you've seen a ghost," Harry mused, a smirk tugging at his lips as he approached me.

     And perhaps I had seen a ghost, or at least the remnants of one splattered across a washcloth.

  I had just finished zipping up my pants when he had made his way into the bedroom, my jacket draped over my arm, and Harry's t-shirt still hung over my body. Where my underwear and bra were was a mystery that I was completely unconcerned with solving. More underwear, I could buy, but time...life...I could not.

   "Stay the hell away from me, Harry," I warned, backing up towards the bedside table where my phone resided. My one chance to call for help.

    Harry was smart, as annoying as that was to admit, and I did my best not to let my eyes flick over to the door, or to make it obvious where I was going, and what I was attempting to retrieve, as I knew he was carefully studying my every move...my every breath.

   He was only a few feet away from me now, and I resisted the urge to turn and make a run for it, as I knew any sudden movement or diversion of my eyes from his was only an opportunity for him to take advantage of my temporary distraction.

  "Finley, how about you sit down, you look a little tense. As I tried to show you in the bathroom, I'd be more than happy to help you relax," he offered in a suggestive tone, the once alluring and arousing thought now causing the worst kind of goosebumps to slide up and down my skin. 

  I was forced to a standstill when the back of my thighs came in contact with the bedside table, and I could hear the lamp wobbling around from the sudden impact.

   Harry must have seen it too, because he stopped directly in front of me, barely any room to inhale and exhale between us as he reached his arm out to steady the wavering lamp behind my head. 

   I wanted to keep him distracted, at least long enough that I could manage to get my phone without him noticing. My flight or fight instincts were butting heads with each other as they debated what I was willing to do in order to survive.