• H.S •
As Molly is trying to move away from her hometown, she leaves with no money and no plan. Her parents won't help, considering they are the reason she left.
When she finds herself in L.A, she wonders around and throws herself at every store, s...
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Harry's house is really nice.
The large windows don't give room for any walls to have a spot around the place. The bedrooms are upstairs, each room is twice the size of my house back home. Home.
A small breathless laugh falls from my lips at the thought of that four letter word.
"That's all it is," I mutter understand my breath. "Just a word."
I take a couple of more steps up the ladder that leads to the roof.
Pushing the old rusted white door that is now green and brown—open, I take a step onto the roof of the penthouse sweet.
I close the door behind me gently before turning around to face the view. I walk over towards the end of the wall.
I make note of a couple of things: the roof has no railing, one step over the edge, and I'd fall to my death. There are no lights up here, the only lights that glow along my silhouette are from the street lights and the lights from the tall buildings from out in the distances. I walk over towards the wall to my right, and take a seat in front of it. Leaning my back against the cold brick wall, I take in all of the colorful lights that shine down on the night in New York.
"Can't sleep?"
I jump in my spot, bringing my hands to my chest as I let out a heavy breath. As my eyes scan around the place frantically, I see a tall figure step out from the dark.
"You scared the shit out of me, Harry!" I whisper shouted.
He walks out from his hiding spot behind the wall by the door that I came through. Instead of walking over to me, he sits down by the edge of the roof and lets his legs hang down above his future death bed.
"That's not safe, Harry-"
He whispers lowly and says, "You'll never live if you don't do things that scare you, red."
I shut my mouth and look away from him. I bring my knees up to my chest, and as I thought silence would invade us, he says, "Doing things that are scary, that are dangerous make me feel alive."
When I turn my head to look at him again, I'm still met with the back of his head and back. He places his hands on his lap and quietly clears his throat.
"You're dangerous, and you make me feel scared all..the..damn..time," the last words comes out so breathlessly stressed that I almost couldn't make out what the word was.
