Stockholm Syndrome {h.s}

Four

I wake up to the sound of a crash, like glass connecting to a wall. I sit up instantly from the old mattress but the handcuffs make that difficult, my wrists aching from the pain the they are causing. I look over to my right to the small alarm clock, the red lights read 4:16am.

"Oh c'mon, Horan! Another round." an unfamiliar voice spoke with humor and excitement in their deep british voice, on the other side of the wooden door. I squint my eyes in the dark to the door, light illuminating under the door. Why would Harry have someone, or some people over now? At this hour?

"I hope you fuckers know you're cleaning all this shit up." someone slurs, clearly drunk; I now recognize the voice, Harry. I try to make no noise as I move closer to the closed door, getting a better hearing of the conversation or conversations in the other room. Laughter fills my ears from the room on the other side of this door, then a sound like someone falling to the floor, like a thud then more laughter from more than three people.

"I think Zayn here has had a little to many drinks." another unfamiliar voice spoke with a mixture of laughter. Sounds like Harry has decided to have a party while I try to sleep. I'm quite irritated and feel disrespected that he would just invite people over at four in the damn morning, when I'm sleeping. Not that I haven't gotten enough, its just that we 'have a big day today' as Harry said just hours ago, never know if I'll need more. It's not like I expect him to respect me considering he has already ruined my life, but at least he could get sleep too, but hey, I don't have a say in what he does because I know for a fact he doesn't care for me or my opinion.

"Yeah," another voice speaks but his accent is different from the others who have spoken, this unfamiliar voice has an irish accent. "Maybe he can go settle down in that room with the girl. She'll be good company." he speaks again. My eyes widen at his intense words, knowing they're talking about me. She'll be good company. I play over the boys words in my head, hoping it won't give the boy so called Zayn any ideas. I suddenly hate Harry's company. I don't even want to imagine what any of his friends would do to me if they are anything like Harry himself.

"Don't, Niall." Harry growled at the boy. Niall? My heart flutters at Harry's quick defence toward me; but why? Why did he get... jealous and why did I feel so good about it?

Niall laughs. "I was only fuckin' around with yeah. He already has a girl for Tuesday anyway." Niall defends himself. I forgot about Tuesday. Harry mentioned it once and I meant to ask him about it last night but I screwed that chance up and I haven't really thought about it. What did he mean? What's the event for Tuesday? I'm not sure I want to know the answer honestly.

"Ask me if I give a fuck. That does't mean this dirty fuck won't try anything with my girl." Harry raises his voice. His girl. My heart picks up and I smile at the name Harry has given me just seconds ago. Someone clears their throat, possibly Harry. "Um, for Tuesday, of course." he corrects himself and lowers his voice, my self confidence slipping slightly, my smile also.

"True." I barley catch someone say under their breath. They must be standing close to the door that enters my room. I definitely don't like this conversation, especially because they are talking about me when they think I'm asleep. Harry must have caught it too.

"Shut the fuck up, Zayn." Harry scowls at the person who made the comment making me feel even more uncomfortable named Zayn. 

"Mate, chill." Niall's accent sounds again with a chuckle, clearly amused that they're getting a reaction from Harry. A couple glass bottles cling together and water bubbles from a bong it sounds like. These people disgust me but there is nothing I can do about it. What disgusts me most is the smell from all the drugs and alcohol coming from under the door filling my nostrils.