Ignition [h.s]

07

ELISE ROSEWOOD

"Harry, I'm serious! Where the hell are we going?"

It's been a while since we lost the mob of cars chasing us away from New York, mostly because Harry began careening down narrow valleys and roads to lose them, which four to five cars couldn't have fit down.

His jaw is locked tightly, he's clearly unwilling to speak to me for whatever reason. It's beginning to irritate me because I should be the one annoyed at him. Why is he giving me the silent treatment? Plus, the longer he doesn't speak, the more I'm starting to feel like his plan was genuinely to kidnap me.

The only way I think of prompting a response from him is by trying to turn on the radio. I had done that earlier this morning, and he got annoyed by it, claiming he doesn't listen to music like a stroppy teenager. I lean forwards and press the power button to an unrecognisable but pleasant bassline. For a few seconds, Harry stays unresponsive and I think he might just let us listen to this song. Then he bends forward and turns it off as quickly as I had turned it on.

"Why don't you like listening to music?" I huff, crossing my arms. He's so abnormal considering almost every guy his age loves music so much they like to brag about underground artists nobody's ever heard of before (we have heard of them before).

"Can you shut up for a second, and understand the severity of the situation?" He shouts, making my limbs tense with his outburst. He still won't look at me, but now his jaw is ticking sporadically like he's refraining from saying something else bitter. He's scary when he yells despite the small acts of kindness he has shown me. He's so close to being a decent person, and then his mood drastically flips on its ass and he's the meanest man alive again. Like how can you split a blueberry muffin with me and then scream at me like that didn't happen?

I don't bother disputing him on the situation which I know nothing about, because I know arguing with him will get me nowhere closer to New York. He seems dead set on wherever he's manically driving us towards, and I'm too tired to fight him on it. He doesn't listen to much of what I have to say anyway.

It's nearing lunch time; we've been driving for some hours now. I curl my arms protectively around my body and rest my head against the passenger door, letting my eyelids drift shut and bleed red from the light of the overhead sun.

This all feels like one gigantic nightmare I can't wake up from. The museum robbery. The gang of other criminal looking men at Harry's hotel room including Zayn, being smashed into a mirror and the car chase this morning. It's so much to take in over such a short period of time. My life has always been so boringly basic, nothing like this has ever happened to me before. It feels like skipping through pages to read only the action scenes in your favourite book, except instead of excitement fuelled adrenaline, it's just a constant state of real-life paralysis and fear.

My phone vibrates between my legs, there's lots of missed calls from Jess and from my school provision. I'm far too afraid to answer any of them now, partly because I'm sure Harry would snap my phone in half if I tried and partly because I know how angry everyone is going to be at me for disappearing like this. Especially with a random older man. This does not look good for me in the eyes of my school board.

Tears well up in my eyes again but only a singular one drops down my cheek with sorrow—I've probably lost my place at my dream school which I worked so hard for. My dad never had thought I would make it successfully at Julliard. Maybe he was right.

"We're going to Indiana." Harry's voice comes lowly after my eyes have dried. It's a little scratchy because he hasn't spoken properly in hours. I open my eyes to look at him, he's looking back at me finally with an emotion I can't decipher. There's a bit of guilt in his green eyes and the tug of his bottom lip between his teeth.