The Beacon [h.s]

2

Trigger Warning: Physical abuse

Harry Styles

Fucking hell.

To think I was going to try and have a relaxing night for once. But no, Father managed to stop that from happening.

He called me as soon as the random movie I chose started playing, telling me that he needed to talk about something important. I automatically assumed it was something with the business, as it always is. He was brief and told me to come to his house. I couldn't stop my pulse from picking up at his words, my mind raced with the possibilities of what he could be calling me about.

I fucking hate his guts, but of course I have fear installed in me for him. It'll always be there no matter how much I also crave for his approval like an idiot.

But I shouldn't have any feelings installed inside me at all, is what Father says. He's the reason care is not a feeling I have. I should be thanking him for turning me into this, like he said before, caring about things only hurts you in the end or can be easily used against you. So now that I don't care about anything, it's less to worry about.

Or so I told myself that. Mum just seemed to keep sneaking into the little care I had left. She is the reason why I moved out of my parent's house at sixteen. With money never being a problem, I forced myself away from her, people couldn't know I had a soft spot for Mum, and by people, I mean my father.

I have my reasons for caring about her, and I have my reasons for hating her. But the care overtook the hate and I was stuck living with her and my father at their house. Once I knew I couldn't handle seeing Mum's pity looks everyday, I moved out.

Which led me to find this penthouse I've been living at for the past three years, it's only twenty minutes away from my parents house and ten minutes away from work.

I live alone, an entire fucking penthouse to myself. The newest technology, amazing city views, spacious rooms, all of it and all to myself. Some may say that's the best life, but I'd say it's fucking miserable.

With a tired sigh leaving my lips, I quickly hop out of bed, leaving my bedroom and locking it again. I jog down the curved staircase which leads to the main living area.

My fast steps on the hardwood floor move to my shoe closet, putting on my usual converse. As I shut the closet door, I grab my car keys and phone, opening the front door so I can make my way down to the elevators. The metal doors open and I walk in, leaning against the wall as I watch the numbers descend down from ten.

The elevator dings and opens when it reaches the lobby. I stroll out, hearing the squeaks from my shoes against the shiny black floor, only for it to be drowned out by an obnoxious voice echoing through the empty lobby.

"Harry! Hey, your car is ready and parked right outside." Samuel smiles at me from his spot behind the front desk.

Samuel is the concierge of this building who I met when I moved here. He's always over the top with his perky personality and annoys the fuck out of me. But I called him before I came down here, telling him to choose a random car of mine and leave it out front.

I simply give him a nod, which is a lot from me, knowing if I actually say something the idiot will never let me leave with his excessive talking.

Samuel just watches me while I continue to walk past him and push the glass doors to go outside. I see my black Mercedes Benz parked ahead.

I take in the crisp air which has a faint salty smell to it, the ocean is only five minutes away from where I live. The cool Los Angeles breeze chills my skin as I walk to my car. I mentally thank myself for throwing on a grey hoodie before coming downstairs.