Lover of Mine | h.s. |

24

Cordelia Wilson

My heart beats so fast I feel like it's going to burst.

Walking down the halls, my mind goes a thousand miles a minute, too many things happening to keep up with them.

He knows.

My father knows about me and Harry.

I always knew from the beginning that what we were doing was a dangerous game to play but I always thought there would be some type of solution to make my father change his mind.

My mother saw the love that Harry and I shared.

So did Oliver.

If they could accept that I loved Harry and not Niall then what was the big deal with my father?

Why couldn't he open his damn eyes for once and see what was happening!?

See that I was truly happy for once in my life, that I didn't feel trapped or forced into such extreme procedures?

I try to take a deep breath to cause the familiar feeling of anxiety fighting to take over my body.

I couldn't let it win, I wouldn't.

Later, not now.

Not when I needed to keep my best composure to try and convince my father that he was in the wrong. 

Thinking back to the past twenty-four hours, I replayed everything that had happened.

Harry and I hung out at the house.

We cuddled, we had sex, we danced in the kitchen, we embraced each other's presence...

And then I insisted that I leave, that my parents would suspect something.

So I left.

I left and came back to this dungeon of a castle where no one really understood how I felt.

And now I was pacing towards my father's office, my blood boiling with rage, sadness, and the feeling that I had been betrayed.

Not by Zayn or my mother or my brother.

But my father.

The one person who couldn't deal with the fact that his daughter was happy.

She was finally happy and he ripped away the one thing that caused her to feel alive.

And he hid him from her, not giving any indication to where he was.

What if he killed him.

I feel tears brim at my eyes but I take a deep breath, trying to keep those thoughts out of my head.

I couldn't think like that. That would just make things worse.

Turning the corner, my father's office doors come into view.

The two guards at either side see me, their hands reaching for the handles to pull them open.

But I get there first.

I yank the doors open before walking into the room, using all my force to slam the heavy pieces of wood behind me.

Everyone's heads turn to me.

My father, my mother, Oliver.

I take a deep breath before walking over to where they are, stopping a few feet away from the desk where my father sat.

I look at my mother first, her eyes telling me that she was grieving as much as I would.

She hid this relationship from my father as much as I did.