Perish {H.S}

chapter 4

Mjs pov...

I'm worried. I havent heard from Greg all week, and mitch has been acting really weird. I've seen alot more of harry this week, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. He is so infuriatingly addictive to be around. I hate that I like it.

Although, he has also been acting weird. And for harry, that's weird. See, harry has a very conflicting personality. He can switch from flirty, to literally wanting to rip my throat out within seconds. He's been really quiet recently, and it's just not like him. I dont know him to well, but from what I have observed over the past month, he just isn't naturally quiet.

Sarah has been extra clingy lately. She comes over nearly every night and it got to the point where I had to ban her from coming over. She just got to much. With asking me how I am every two seconds, and never leaving me for a minutes peace. Ofcourse I appreciate it, and I love her to bits, but sometimes I just want to be on my own.

I just finished my second shift of the week, and after what happened last week. Mitch has taken it up on himself to drive me home every night. Its really weird, since he'd normally never be this florward in my best interests. Although I do Try and dismiss his persistent behaviour, it always ends with me huffing and puffing, while being dragged to the car by his tall frame. He's made it clear that he "isn't taking my childish bullshit." What ever that means.

I'm not childish.

I'm just independent.

This leads to me now being sat in the passenger side of mitch's black BMW, while he blows the crisp tingy smelling smoke that escapes his lips when he sucks in a breath of his blunt, out of the window. "When is this going to stop?" I ask in frustration. I really don't like all of this. I feel like their doing it for charity. I don't like pitty.

He shrugs and takes the last few puffs out of his blunt, before he throws it out the window. "We're working on it." We're? "Who's we?" I ask and he huffs. "Harry, Liam, Mason, and I." Liam and Mason? Who even are they? And harry? Since when does he care for my safety?

"Is gregor dead mitch?" I ask bluntly while we arrive on my street. "You don't have to worry about that anymore." He pats my shoulder in a patronising way. "Can you just answer the question? I'm not made of glass." I murmer. Do I even want to know?

Fuck no

But the urge to know if my ex boyfriend is still alive is currently the only thing I can think about. "I don't know." He answers simply while he pulls the car into park. "You don't know?" I speak up in a questionable tone, while unclipping my seatbelt. "I dont know MJ, and I don't really care. I dont like him. He's a Liar, he's a thief, and he was an abusive prick towards you." His voice grows slightly louder the more he vents about gregs behaviour. My eyes widen at his sudden tone. It's not normally that you ever hear mitch raise his voice.

He's normally always so calm, and chill. It kinda scares me to be honest.

"Ok, well thanks for the unnecessary lift home. You can go now." I mutter, while climbing out of the car, and taking my handbag and jacket with me. "I'll see you tomorrow, I'm dropping Sarah off to you in the morning." Oh, well that was a piece of information I could have been informed of before now.

"Fantastic." I sigh with sarcasm lased in my tone. He smirks before he murmers something inaudible to himself. He does this alot. "Bye Mitchell." I smile sweetly and he groans just as I slam the door shut. "Mary Josephine, you forgot something!" He shouts and I turn around with a dramatic stomp of my feet. I really hate when people use my full name. He knows that.

"What?" I ask, shaking my hands in the air In frustration. I just want to go home, eat ice cream and feel sorry for my little self. He holds up his hand and extends his middle finger out to me, before his engine turns on with a loud growl and within seconds, his car speeds off into the night.

"Wanker!" I shout out aloud, while I turn to walk back towards my building. I instantly regret shouting so loud, when I realise its late at night and I have neighbours with young children. With a shrug, I prossed into my building and impatiently wait for the stupid elevator to take me to my door.

I could use the stairs.

But I don't.

I don't have the patience to climb four sets of thirteen steps right now.

The elevator finally opens up, and with a prolonged two minutes or so, I'm now stood outside of my flat.

My dainty fingers struggle to fit my key into the keyhole. Why does everything have to be so complicated? The keys slip from my hands and land on the floor with an echoing racket. "Oh for god sake! Stupid fucking key!" I shout to myself while I bend down to retrieve my keys.

With a second try, I finally gain access into my home. Finally.

I throw myself into my flat, and relish in the feeling of being home. I throw my keys on the mantelpiece that sits in the hallway and drag my tired feet towards the lounge. Having a job where your on your feet all day, really takes alot out of you.

Entering the lounge, I close my curtains and throw my bag and jacket into the sofa, walking over to the back wall and turning my TV on. My stomach grumbles, and although I havent ate a substantial meal today, my body craves for some sweat cookie dough ice cream. I slide my way laizly into my kitchen and raid my freezer for a tub of ice cream to Dulge in, while I watch some vampire diaries.

Grabbing the half tub that I couldn't finish yesterday, I hunt for a spoon in the cluttered mess of utensils that sit in my dish washer, and  trot my way back into the lounge.

I throw myself on the sofa and lay down side ways, leaning my ice cream on my cupped chest, while I turn on my Netflix and plan to forget the world for the next hour or 5.

30 minutes later......

Well that was a palava. I just sat and cried my little heart out to a sex scene of many including the lead characters. Only I could cry at a sex scene.

I need to go to sleep.

I place my now empty tub of ice cream on the coffee table and drag myself into my bedroom to strip of these uncomfortable clothes. I throw om an over sized old beatles shirt, and throw my hair up into a messy birds nest disaster that I'll have to deranged tomorrow.

That's tomorrow's problem. Right now, I just need to leave my conscious mind and forget about my life right now. I jump into bed and let my head flop on the plush cloud like pillows. Man, I have good pillows.