Vigilante | H.S.

88 | Call

August 30th.

21 days without Diana.

Harry Styles

"Wake the fuck up!"

I stared down at Louis, who was passed out asleep on the couch in the living room. His mouth wide open as he snored, drool fell from the corner of his mouth.

Three weeks. It's been three weeks since I saw my daisy, and I had never gone this long without her in a long time, and I fucking hated it, I was dying slowly without her. Most days, I was more of a zombie, somehow running on the twenty minutes of sleep I'd get a night. I couldn't remember the last time I went outside, the last time I ate a meal that wasn't practically shoved down my throat by Zayn, the last time I had managed to go more than an hour without crying or having a panic attack.

The last three weeks, every waking second has been completely devoted to finding Diana.

I was falling apart without her.

The first morning was the worst, waking up and thinking it was all a terrible nightmare. But when I'd rolled over, expecting to see my beautiful little daisy beside me, I remembered she was gone.

So the living room was now dedicated to finding her, every wall was decorated with pictures and places where I thought she could be, none of them turned out to be successful. There were map, notes, pins, everything was pinned to the wall, one big massive fucking crime board that was proving to be useless, because I still hadn't found her.

If only Zayn had been with me when she called me, he could have traced it and she would have been home by now. But no, I was locked away in our room, staring at the fucking wall, completely numb to fucking everything around me. I didn't find him in time, he wasn't even in the apartment, so he couldn't find her.

Zayn and Louis had been helping me, except they were much better at taking care of themselves compared to me. They could still function throughout the day, they ate, showered, and slept. I couldn't do that. If I made myself something to eat, I was wasting time that I could use to look for her, if I showered for more than a minute, I was wasting time. If I slept, my time was wasted. I had to spend every second looking for her, because every second counted. She was hurt, she was in so much pain and I knew it. She was alone and scared and the longer I took to find her, the longer she would have to go through whatever torture they were putting her through.

I had practically forced Louis to stay up all night with me to try and help me, but the bastared fell asleep on the couch, on top of all the fucking evidence and clues that I had. He was drooling on a picture of the fucking blue butterfly club. I hated that place, everything always went wrong when we were there. I wished we could have just stayed home that night like I wanted to, maybe none of this would have happened.

"Louis, get the fuck up," I was ready to smack him in the face if he didn't get up.

"Fuck off Harry, " Louis rolled over onto his side, looking like he was snuggling up with the couch to go back to sleep.

I hadn't slept in days, but I felt very awake because of the six energy drinks I had drunk in the past hour.

The temptation to drink alcohol instead of energy juice was getting stronger and stronger each day. I swore sometimes the bottles were actually whispering inside my head, telling me to drink them. It was the only way to numb the pain that I didn't have my girl, my daisy anymore. But I had to be stronger than that, my head had to be somewhat strong to be able to function enough to figure out where she was.

"Get up," I grabbed one of the pillows off the couch and smacked him in the face with it.

"Fuck off," Louis grabbed the pillow out of my hand and threw it across the room, crossing his arms over his face in tiredness. He protested, "I can't. Let me sleep for more than five fucking minutes."