19!

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TRIGGER WARNING: brief mentions and descriptions of blood, wounds, and needles ahead.

brief mentions of hate-crimes, racial injustices, and white privilege ahead!

a/n (11/26/21): before you comment insensitive shit, no one is forcing you to read! i'm writing about gangs centered in LA, i apologize for not tiptoeing around it. i do not apologize, however, for including real-life situations that have personally affected me or others like me. also, do not assume my background!! i stay private for a reason. i don't write this triggering topic for praise. i write what i write as an ESCAPE as the way you might read for the exact same purpose. if this topic scares you, then find something else to read!!!!! respectfully, stfu in the comments!! muah x
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Chapter 19

Chapter 19

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When Harry had left, I collapsed onto the bed in a complete fluster over what had happened. I was left to imagine the things he could've done to me—the things I wanted him to do to me. Groaning into my hands had been the only form of relief I could give myself.

Time just isn't on my side, I think.

I'm becoming desperate, hoping Harry would march back into this bedroom and finish what he started. When he doesn't, I sit back up.

I could use this unwanted given time to do something productive, such as my coursework, or I could let my curiosity lead me to wander.

I bring my bare feet down onto the cold floors as I decide on the second option.

He keeps his bedroom surprisingly clean, I observe. There isn't any clutter besides a pack of cigarettes and the trinket dish of his rings on the side table near his bed. I would never ask Harry to see his rings up and close so I take this opportunity to look at them.

With a quick hair tuck behind my ear, I stop by the side table and reach for one ring in particular. The gold band with a pearl. It catches my eye. I hadn't noticed the pearl ring before, probably because I don't let myself stare at his hands.

The man ceases to keep surprising me. At first glance, I never would have thought Harry would be one to rewrite the rules of masculinity. For somebody so dark, involved in criminal activity, and refers to women as dolls, it's a shock to think he appreciates a bit of femininity. Is there a reason for it? Has he always been so secured with himself?

I scoff when I think back to when Matthew grew offended after asking if I could paint his nails. He was so quick to say no, believing a simple manicure would make him less of a man.

Pussy.

I slide Harry's pearl ring onto my ring finger, to try it on, but it's too big. I press my lips together as I shift the ring onto my other fingers for a better fit. It fits on my thumb, but barely. Though, it's pretty to look at. I smile as I hold my thumb up to appreciate it on me for a bit longer.

𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐃 // 𝐇.𝐒.Where stories live. Discover now