Trust [h.s.]

XVII

"Ellie," Harry's bright eyes were wide, filled to the brim with trepidation and urgency. "You need to hide."

He grabbed my hand, tugging me from my bed, and onto my feet. Though my brain was on overdrive, my body remained motionless; paralyzed with fear and absolute chaos. My knees knocked together as my legs trembled, my breaths becoming shallow and uneven as I squeezed tightly on Harry's fingers.

"Harry," I squeaked. "What do I do? He knows I'm here. Oh, God." I shook my head, hoping to clear my brain of the never ending stream of anxiety-ridden thoughts that flowed like a coursing river across the valleys of my mind.

"I need you to listen to me," Harry spoke calmly, evenly. His eyes glistened with uncertainty, but his voice remained neutral and in control. "I will not let anything happen to you, okay? I just need you to do as I say. Now, I need you to go up to the attic. Do you remember where you hid last time?" I nodded. "Right, well, go there. Just stay calm, alright love? I'll take care of you." Then, unexpectedly, Harry's index finger found my chin, tilting my head up slightly so that I stared straight into his eyes. He planted a soft kiss to my lips, the action so light and so delicate, it felt almost as though it was no more than a gentle breath brushing across the flesh.

I did not have time to react to his sweet gesture, for without another word, I left him, sprinting up the stairs, and into the dark attic. The unlit abyss encompassed my line of vision, leaving me momentarily blind as my eyes adjusted to the space. I reached my arms out, feeling the shapes and outlines of the objects in front of me as I made my way deeper into the room.

I was about to settle into a corner behind a large box, when I heard the front door close from the first floor. The muffled sound of deep voices put me on edge, hoping that my still frame would help to keep me hidden. It wasn't until I sat down on the cold wooden floor did I realize how restless I felt. I was filled with anticipation and curiosity, and with each passing moment, I felt as if I were to explode if I couldn't hear what Harry and his boss were discussing.

I knew it was dangerous, I knew it was wrong, I knew it was a bad idea, but after a mere minute of sitting in the dark, I stood up. The logical side of my brain pounded the alarm, sending it into utter tumoil, but I trudged on, grabbing the handle of the door, and opening it slowly. I stood at the base of the attic staircase, remaining perfectly still as I waited for the door to Harry's office close as the two went in. Once the lock clicked in place, I slipped down the steps of the second floor, tiptoeing into the living room, and slipping my body under the coach. I lay on my back, my body fitting underneath the sofa perfectly as I stared straight ahead at the bottom of the fabric-covered furniture.

"Now, Styles," A man's voice rumbled from beyond the door to Harry's office. I froze. "There's something we need to discuss."

"Yes sir." Harry replied obediently.

"Do you remember that time, all those weeks ago, when that little rat caught us in the alleyway downtown?" The man, Volkov, asked.

Harry was silent.

"Oh, don't say you've forgotten." I could hear the sneer in Volkov's tone. "You know, that girl. The young, pretty thing."

"I can't say I recall, sir." Harry replied indifferently.

"Oh, you can't, eh?" Volkov chuckled darkly. "You can't remember Ellie Walker, Mr. Styles? Now, I find that hard to believe."

My heart stopped. My eyes widened. I took a shaky breath.

"Oh." Harry, too, sounded shaky. "Yes, of course. I remember."

"Do you remember what I asked you to do with her?" Volkov asked patronizingly.

"You asked me to dispose of her." Harry said, almost nonchalantly.

I shuddered.

"Yes, that's correct. And did you?"

"Did I what, sir?" Harry asked.

"Don't play games with me, Styles!" Volkov shouted. "Did you or did you not dispose of that girl's body?"

 "Yes, sir." Harry spoke with clarity. "Yes, I disposed of her body. You needn't worry about her."

"Good." Volkov huffed. "Then you won't mind if I take a look around."

Harry paused, the kind of silence that would go undetected by anyone else, but not to me. I knew this silence was in hesitation. I knew Harry was scared. I could practically hear the pounding of his heart from within the confinements of his rib cage.

 "No, not at all. Go right ahead." Harry stammered. It wasn't long after that the door to his office swung open, the two men strolling outside and into the hall. Their proximity to me was alarming, and I held my breath, praying silently that they would neither see nor hear me.

"How's the old attic, my boy? Mind if I see it myself?" I could hear the smugness of Volkov's tone, the knowing voice he used to place the question that hung heavily in the air. He knew I was in the house. He thought I was in the attic.

"Um, not that good." Harry attempted to divert his attention. "The, uh, heating broke, so it's quite chilly up there. Not very comfortable."

"Oh I don't mind." Volkov sneered.

"No really, it's freezing up there." Harry reasoned. "Why don't I show you the basement, instead? The new shipment's just come in, and things are looking good-"

"The attic." Volkov interrupted. "I want to see the attic."

Harry huffed, evidently discomforted by the request. Silently, he made his way up the steps, Volkov following closely behind. I listened as they made their way to the top of the stairs, opening the door to the attic, then shutting the door behind them. I was then engulfed in a long and agonizing silence, and I could not tell which was worse: having them near me where I could hear their terrifying conversation, or having them far away to freely speak about me.

No more than ten minutes later, they returned to the first floor. Volkov sounded skeptical in his parting words, bidding Harry a quick goodbye as he exited his home. Harry remained noiseless until, from outside, Volkov's car motor revved, indicating his leaving.

"Shit." Harry cursed, sounding frantic in his speech. I heard his fumbled movements scamper around the first floor, his long, gangling limbs sashaying throughout his home in a haphazard manner. "Where the fuck is she?"

I realized then that Harry's source of frustration was my whereabouts and how they were unknown to him. I almost giggled to myself at the thought of Harry frantically searching for me in his home, overturning furniture and flipping pillows. I eventually decided to put the poor boy out of his misery, and slid my body out from beneath the couch. I strolled into the kitchen where Harry stood, opening the oven door in an attempt to find me.

"I don't think I could fit in there." I said flatly.

"Ellie, not now, I'm looking for-" Harry stopped, realization striking him. "Wha-? Where were you?"

"Under the coach." I replied, hopping onto the counter top, and grabbing an apple from the fruit basket. I took a hard bite, a drop of the juice dribbling down my chin, before I swatted it away.

"You scared me." Harry said, handing me a napkin.

"How so?"

"I thought...I don't know. I just couldn't find you and I thought something bad happened."

My stomach flipped.

"Are you saying you care about me, Harry Styles?" I fake-gasped. He grinned.

"I suppose I am, Ellie Walker."

I hadn't realized how close our proximity had become until our eyes locked, and my breath was nearly snatched from my throat. Harry stood between my legs as they dangled from the counter top, his hands resting softly on my thighs. Our chest rose and fell at a similar place, the areas extremely close, but not yet touching. I could smell Harry's cologne radiating from his body, floating through the air, then filling my every sense with the overwhelming musky scent. It was all too much. He was all too much.

"Harry," His name came easily to my lips, a familiar sound, a feeling of home to speak it. "Kiss me."

He didn't hesitate to dive into me and crash his lips onto mine.