|harry|
"I don't see why not, I mean you've been here for really long. Don't you think it's time to find another place?" J.C. asks from her seat across the room.
"Because I said so, I'm fine here. I haven't been caught yet, and I won't be." I shrug nonchalantly.
"Yeah, well when they notice that she," She points to Ella. "Is still missing, or rather missing again, They'll come back."
"I'll be prepared then." I seethe.
"What do you mean by that, Harry." She raises her eyebrow in doubt.
"I have a friend coming to visit." I say licking my lips.
"Mmm...god damm*t." J.C. and I quickly look over at Ella who's waking up.
"Morning princess. How was your nap?" I smile sarcastically.
"Go to hell." She rubs her head with her free hand, seeing that her other one is taped to the vent.
"We only met a couple days ago and you're already inviting me into your home? Thanks, but no thanks." I say sitting back.
She grumbles something under her breath, but I ignore it.
"As much as I want to stay, I don't. So, I'll see you later, Harry." J.C. says putting her leather jacket back on.
She's a mystery, to everyone besides Louis and I. She calls herself J.C., because Juliet Charlotte isn't as edgy as her personality. Her parents were also killed, she was orphaned most of her life. Louis found her and broke her out of the foster home when she was 16 and they ran away together. Now, they're married. Bonnie and Clyde almost, except they don't kill for fun. They do it for favors.
"How long am I supposed to stay here?" Ella asked as J.C. closed the door.
"Until I want to let you go; if I let you go." I say pulling out a book. I get up and pull the chair with me. I stop in front of her and sit down.
"Ever read this?" I say holding up The Picture of Dorian Grey. She nods.
"It's one of my favorites." She says looking around the room.
"Mine too."
"As he strolled home, smoking his cigarette, two young men in evening dress passed him.
He heard one of them whisper to the other, "That is Dorian Gray."
He remembered how pleased he used to be when he was pointed out,
or stared at, or talked about. He was tired of hearing his own name now.
Half the charm of the little village where he had been so often lately
was that no one knew who he was. He had often told the girl whom
he had lured to love him that he was poor, and she had believed him.
He had told her once that he was wicked, and she had laughed at him
and answered that wicked people were always very old and very ugly.
What a laugh she had!--just like a thrush singing. And how pretty she had
been in her cotton dresses and her large hats! She knew nothing, but she had
everything that he had lost." I read from chapter 20.
|ella|
He looks a beautiful. I mean, beautiful for a criminal. Perfectly imperfect.
"I didn't think you were the reading type."
"Well, I couldn't just sit around and play piano all day." He says closing the book.
"Let's play the question game." I suggest.
"Sure." He sighs.
"Why are you still in this area?" I ask curiously.
"Because I know the area and can escape when I need to. Plus, I have connections here. So, I get everything I need to live off of and some luxuries." He said referring to the books.
"Why did you enter this building." He says sitting up.
"It's this stupid game we do every year." I shrug. "I was dared to come in here, I would have said no, but I have sociophobia and don't want to be the laughing stock of the school."
"Hmm."
"Why are you in here?"
"I already answered that." He says, thinking about the first question I asked him.
"No, I mean how did you get in here. Why did you escape." I say seriously.
"I know you want me to tell you that I killed them. That I'm a murderer and I belonged in there. But I don't. I didn't kill them. The man I shot did." He standing up.
"He beat my mum and sister. One day he got so angry he killed them- right in front of me." He says angrily.
"Actually, I just wanted to know how you escaped..." I say quietly.
He turns to glare at me. "You have such a pretty face." He says licking his bottom lip and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'd just stop talking for a bit, if you want to keep it that way."
"Harry don't be like that. Like you said I'll be here for a while so you might as well stop fighting me. We can be friends."
"No, Ella, we can't. We have nothing in common."
"Yes, we do." I say standing in front of him. "We were both beat, we're both stubborn, and we both read."
"What does reading have to do with it?" He scoffs.
"It means we both have something we're trying to escape from by reading. Imagining we were someone else and had a different lives." I say getting up in his face. "We're almost the exact same, so stop fighting me."
He looks at me for awhile and swallows hard. He turns around and slams the door.
|harry|
I didn't know it at the time but I do now. I know why I'm keeping her around. After Gemma and Mum, I didn't think I could feel like this again.
I love her.
I have to make her love me back now..but how can you learn to love someone who kidnapped you.
"You can't." The voice says.
A/N: Sorry for not updating in a long time- had writers block but I'm back with new ideas. The song for this chapter is Stockholm Syndrome.
P.S. Happy Lauren?
YOU ARE READING
|phobia|
Fanfiction"She never looked nice: she looked like art, and art wasn't supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something." Christopher Poindexter that's exactly what she did, she made me feel something. Desire.
