They Don't Know About Us (Harry Styles fanfic)

Chapter Sixteen: Vans, Warehouses & Betrayal

ALEX

I felt as if my feet were rooted to the spot. I couldn't move, chills running down my back as I stayed crouched over Harry. My hand holding my hoodie was still pressed to his wound, body unmoving. I felt my chest tighten as I gazed at the silhouetted figure standing above me. The only feature I could make out was his piercing blue eyes.

It was the same man that cornered me in the alleyway. A lump formed in my throat, teeth starting to chatter due to the cold night air. My bloodied hoodie was clutched so tightly in my left hand it caused my fingers to throb.

"W-what do you want?" I stammered, nerves getting the better of me.

"You never did call that number, did you?" He pressed, hard voice sounding deeper than I remembered.

"I-I'm sorry, but we need to call an ambulance." My eyes cast downward to Harry, who was still. Unconscious.

"Why is that?"

"He's loosing blood... It's a serious injury... He might have cracked his skull -"

"Is that anything I should care about?"

"P-Please." I whimpered, sliding my phone from my pocket.

"The doctors would like to know how he got hurt."

"I, um, could say he... Fell."

A dry chuckle rang through the air, rough fingers brushing my hair to the side. I flinched under his morbid touch, eyes squeezing closed.

Murmurs from below me beat the man to what he was going to say. Harry was starting to stir, eyelids fluttering as I fidgeted, removing my hoodie from his cut to observe the nasty gash. Blood seeped out, the wound not even close to healing. I winced, feeling his pain.

"He can't die." The man above me whispered, talking to himself more than me.

"We need an ambulance." I cried, tears starting to make their way down my cheeks as images of Harry cold; unmoving lying on a hospital bed entered my mind. I banished the thoughts, sucking in a shuddering breath.

"Come with me. I'll sort him out."

I didn't have a choice. It was obvious the man wouldn't leave me alone. It was either go with him and help Harry, or stay here and let him die. I couldn't do that.

I watched intently as the man picked Harry up, careful not to hurt his head more than he had already done. He turned without looking at me, long strides meaning I had to walk fast to keep up with him. He led me to a black van, paint scratched off here and there, tires dirty with mud.

A door was opened; I was forcefully pushed inside. Almost tripping over my own feet, I entered the vehicle. Strapping myself in, I held my arms out at the man effortlessly set Harry on my lap. I was careful not to bump his head as I pressed the soaked hoodie back on the cut.

I lost track of how long we were driving, tinted windows stripping people of the advantage to peer inside the car. My eyes remained tightly closed, praying to God for Harry to get better. The increasingly long drive wasn't helping him in any way.

Lolling my head back in my seat, my lips parted, voicing my thoughts at last. "Why did you hurt him?"

There was a long, awful silence. I couldn't tell if he was contemplating or ignoring me. Either way, I wouldn't back down.

"He didn't deserve that." I harshly stated, venom lacing my tone. "You could have done whatever you wanted to me, but he shouldn't have been touched."

"He would have gotten in the way." His voice said flatly, in a bored tone. My anger rose, fury bubbling inside me. Irritation creeped up, hands balling into fists. My voice raised as I spoke again.