Limbo [h.s]

6

Michael Jackson - The way you make me feel 

"I like the groove of your walk,
Your talk, your dress
I feel your fever
From miles around
I'll pick you up in my car
And we'll paint the town"

Chapter6 – Harry's POV

"What the fuck happened to your face" Luka says as he brings his drink down from his lips while also adjusting himself against the black leather booth seats. 

"I told you this club was dangerous" I shake my head as I move around the table to take my place across from him.

Her blue eyes are what's dangerous.

The electric glow of her eyes, there the most enchanting thing I have ever seen. The way they light up even under the red LEDs. I couldn't take my eyes off of her.

And her body.

God her body.

I almost roll my eyes over the thought.

The thing I didn't quite understand was the bruise under her eye. I've had enough of those in my life time to understand that it would be hurt like a bitch. But when I asked her about it she completely shut down. I could sense that she didn't want to talk about it, so I changed the subject and left it at that. But that doesn't mean that I could forget about it though.

How did she get it? who gave it to her? Was she used to it? It looked like she had some sort of experience with bruises because if it weren't for the alcohol and her needing to clean it off then I wouldn't have noticed anything out of the ordinary.

God was that why she was in such a rush to get to the bathrooms? She didn't want the makeup to get ruined. How many bruises did she have?

The intense feeling of needing to be close to her again is infatuating. The way her aura calms everything inside of me just from her presence is convicting. Ever since she left me in the bathroom my body ached for her to touch me again.

It was like everything about her was too perfect to be real. I needed to have that reassurance that she was actually real.

Omg.

What if I've completely lost it?

I knew it. I didn't make it out of my father's office alive, I'm dead, this is my hell. I'll be searching for Isabel until the end of my days, only to never realise that Isabel was a figure of my imagination this entire time.

She doesn't exist.

I contort my face at the thought only to grunt at the sharp pain in my nose. "Am I alive?" I lean over the table and whisper to Luka like it was some secret.

"WHAT?" he shouts back over the loud music.

"AM I ALIVE?"

"OMG. HOW HARD DID YOU GET HIT MAN? YES YOU'RE ALIVE YOU DICKFACE"