mercy | hes

9

updating today bc i know i won't this weekend (probably) hha:) and dont forget to vote and comment for the next chap :)

"Where's her body?" I asked, ignoring his comment about the police.

Harry didn't say anything. I glared at him, my jaw tightened. "Where's her body, Harry?"

"I can't tell you."

"Fuck that. Tell me where you put her body." I demanded, my intensity rising by the second. His wide eyes turned a greenish pale, so light that I could almost see through them.

"Where I always put the bodies I kill in the apartment." he shrugged vaguely, pulling his bottom lip between his massive fingers. I eyed his plump lip and straightened my back.

"And where would that be?"

"It's a secret," he replied smoothly.

He ran a shaky hand through his hair, sucking in a deep breath. He was getting annoyed.

I was almost shaking with rage."You're a fucking psychopath. You are so fucked up it's unbelievable."

He slammed his palm on the granite, creating a angry sound that made me jump. "You think I don't know that already? Fuck!" he shouted at me, his neck veins popping from under his skin. I bit my bottom lip; trying not to cry.

I didn't say anything, I didn't trust my voice.

He took a deep, frustrating breath. "Look, Liv, I know you're still trying to adjust, and the things that I did last night might not of been the smartest," he tried to apologize, his tone clipped. "But you still have to respect me. There still are consequences for the things you do-"

"So jumping me was a consequence for bringing up Leslie? Are you fucking serious?" I was livid. "Respect is a two way street." My voice cracked and I sounded like I was whining.

"I..." Harry took a long breath, shaking his head.

He was stunned and almost too angry to speak.

Instead of finishing his sentence, he looked into the distance. His cheeks blushed a healthy red and his eyes fluttered close. His lips were in a small frown.

I rose from the stool. "I don't have time for your fucking problems. I want to go home." If this went my way, I would leave his apartment. But knowing I didn't have that privilege, I stormed out of the kitchen and into the living room.

Harry was left in disbelief, his eyes still shut. It felt good to stand up to him. I plopped on the couch and turned on Full House, turning up the volume. I wiped away tears with the side of my hand, sniffing quietly. I tightly wrapped the purple blanket hat smelt faintly of lavender around my body.

Harry and I were two completely different people. We saw two different things, we couldn't agree. I didn't approve of pretty much anything he did, and he could care less. We were borderline incompatible.

About a silent hour later, the door burst open.

I jumped from the sudden sound and twisted my body to see a man stepping inside. He was a tan, lanky, man with dark hair that was shaven at the sides. His eyes were a honest chestnut and he had chunky tattoos littered on his arms.

"Who the hell are you?" I questioned at him, and he turned his head in surprise and looked down at me.

"Um, Zayn." he said nervously, studying me carefully.

His low, British voice was familiar to me.

"Oh," was all I said.

I remembered his voice from the other night, he was in the gang. I gave him one last stare before looking back at the TV. I nestled into the cushions.