Midnight Angel H.S COMPLETED

13

I delicately brush my hand down my stomach, feeling every curve of my body through the flowing dress as I focus my eyes on the mirror in front of me.

Unconsciously, my hand meanders up to my chest and I study it all. I look at my bare shoulders and the strings that help the dress from feathering to the floor. I wish I still had my suitcase so I could put a necklace on or something. Just so my neck isn't so bare. I roll my lips in, as I try to smooth out any crinkles in the black material. I feel so naked.

I turn around to see my back; how the material starts in the middle of it. The torso of my dress is translucent with wire to keep its shape as well as keeping the chest padding up. I sit down on the red seat and slip my black heels on before standing on my feet again.

I take my hand and compare it to the skin between the dress' slit. I reckon this is why I feel so self-conscious- half of the dress isn't even there. The dress from the torso starts to flow down and the slit widens meaning most of my right leg is naked. This dress is fit for someone with much higher confidence than me.

I check the time with the clock in front of me finding I have a few minutes left. I walk around the small room, my heels clicking every time I step, as I try to get used to yet another set of stilettos.

"It'll be okay." I attempt to reassure myself. I can only attempt to act as if it's all going to be fine. Harry is the only person I'm going to know tonight. The boys aren't there. Just Harry. The last time I stepped out of line, he had to check behind to see if he could kill me or not. Without the boys, Harry will kill me. I know this could be the day where my life ends. I know this because that's what Harry's like. "Hazel, stop it." I whisper to myself again as I try to cut out any underlying fear I have.

I walk out of the room and stagger back, him right in front of me.

"Harry." I say, trying to brush off the fact that I'm petrified. I can't tell if I'm hallucinating or not. He has a glow to him. It's hard to tell.

I look at him slouched in a chair, his usual smirk on his face. His defined stomach is bare, allowing me to see a butterfly? What a strange tattoo for someone like Harry. A blazer with white, vertical stripes alongside matching trousers is the only thing that covers him. I keep catching myself watching how his stomach catches the light. It makes the flush of warmth rush through my body as my cheeks turn red. I have to look away. My eyes flit back and forth, but I choose to divert my attention.

"Hazel."

*

The building, tall and exquisite, stands in front of us as I feel Harry slow me down. My eyes can't keep away from the building. I wonder how much detail was put into it. Considering I can tell how elegant it is in the darkness, in the light, it would have to be at least double the elegance. The doors are open but from afar, I can't see inside, just the glow of lights.

I'm assuming this is a formal occasion because of the fact I'm in a longer dress than I would imagine Harry would want a woman to wear- Plus, Harry is wearing a suit, he still doesn't look too formal but it's still a suit. But another thing that gives it away is that the music is subtle and almost unheard of. All I can hear is the chimes of the piano. No one is outside hooking up or smoking either.

Everything here looks clean.

My heart pauses momentarily as Harry links our arms together, making my head spin around. I flicker a small smile at him as this trembling pit arises in my stomach knowing I'm touching a murderer.

I squeeze my eyes closed to try and discard any thoughts as we walk towards the building.

In the centre of the grand building, there's a large chandelier which is also the only light the eye can see- at least on the ceiling. In the nooks and crannies, you can see orange-tinted lights glow. To the side there are many groups of people holding champagne glasses, backs straight with -I think forced- smiles on their faces. In the centre under the chandelier, there are couples dancing, every couple in synchronization. Dotted around are workers- almost sliding from place to place- with fine alcohol on their round plates, passing it to any free person in sight. There's a smaller area which is quite levitated with people dining on.