favorite crime [h.s]

eleven

I run down the busy street in order to be on time for work because I'm already running late. I've come to notice that no one would even realise if I were late, how would they know? Track me? I press the button to the elevator with an unsuspecting mind. I never know what the day brings me because each day is individually weird.

I stumble into my office, too caught up by the emptiness of this building to care about anything. I'm so motivated to work today, maybe because Niall was being kind of nice to me yesterday and this energy is somehow still keeping me up.

I walk over to my desk, noticing the new piece of paper which is placed there every day. I slouch back in my chair and read the paper.

The paper slips from my hands in shock.

I stare at the mugshot of Harry, not actually wanting to believe my eyes that it's really him. At first I thought that maybe it's a person that looks a lot like him, but his name literally written beneath the picture.

I feel my throat growing tight the longer I stare at it. I don't want to believe that I see Harry on the same paper which says a murder was committed. It makes a sick feeling erupt in my stomach and I feel like I'm going to throw up. But it's just a feeling and it takes over my mind, making me unable of thinking straight.

Harry murdered someone. He's a murderer.

My hand moves up to cover my mouth as I pinch my eyes shut. I part my lips in a silent scream, I want to cry but no tears are able to leave my eyes. I know Harry is dangerous but that's a completely different level. The things he's capable of don't even list themselves in my brain, I can't imagine how many things he's done that are just like this.

Is this their job? Murdering other people? Committing crimes as a living? If that's true then all the crimes that I've read about over the past week...were all committed by the boys. I feel an uncomfortable twitch in my stomach and not even deep inhalations help to breathe normally. My mind is completely blank and I'm not sure how I should feel about this.

Before I know it, I'm out of my room, rushing down the hallway where the restrooms are. Bursting through the door, I search for the next empty stall, one hand covering my mouth in an instant. I crouch down on the floor in front of the toilet and I empty my stomach.

The realisation is not yet hitting me. Just because Harry was caught doesn't mean that he was alone guilty of the crime. There's a possibility that the other boys where there too but managed to escape. Does that mean Harry is in jail now? That would mean he has years of prison sentence.

I'm now sitting on the floor, my back leaned against the stall when I start to feel better again. My mood is still completely down and I feel myself at the verge of crying. What have I gotten myself into?

I reach for my phone and dial Niall's number, because that's the only number I have from any of the boys. I realise that he quickly put it in there when he asked for my phone yesterday. My foot is nervously tapping against the floor as I wait for him to pick up. I find myself wondering why I even decided to call him, not thinking once what I'm even suppose to say. But I don't have anyone else to tell about this since I don't know who is supposed to know.

"Hello?"

"Niall. It's Alison," I sniffle.

"Alison, my darling, what owes me the pleasure of you calling m-"

"Where are you?" I cut him off, my voice lightly trembling. My heart is still racing in my chest, pounding against my ear in a violent manner.

"At the bar on the tenth floor," He answers with much confusion.