Chapter 17

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Chapter 17

I woke up abruptly to the sweet sound of traffic; it reminded me of mornings when Preston drove me to school amidst the terrible London traffic.

Preston...

My eyelids slowly rose to see a bare-backed boy sleeping beside me: Harry.

I stared for a while, watched as his stretched back muscles slowly moved up and down; the sight was serenely accompanied by his soft breaths.

My eyebrows furrowed. The pang of anger throbbed inside once more.

How could he sleep, free from care, with the knowledge that he has killed people? I don't think I could ever come to an understanding with that... No matter how hard I would try.

Sighing, I rose from the bed but a hand suddenly gripped my wrist.

"Where are you going?" The rasp of Harry's voice sent chills down my spine.

"Bathroom." I said truthfully, freeing my wrist from his blood-stopping grip.

"Okay."

I cautiously walked to the bathroom and locked the door behind me.

I couldn't help but be absolutely livid with him. I thought we were getting along but he just snaps back to this psycho who's no different to the same man who killed Preston and Ashley and god knows who.  

I solely wanted to befriend him in hopes that he'll tell me more; I deserve to at least know who wants me dead. But the last few days, I'm not sure that it's the only purpose of befriending him. An unfamiliar part of me, whom I fail to understand, believes - hopes for something more. Much, much more.

I heavily sighed to restart my state of mind before starting my daily routine, which took longer than usual as my thoughts were loudly scrambled and practically dedicated to the boy just behind the door.

* * *

I came out to see Harry, fully dressed and sitting on the bed anxiously. When he caught sight of me, he immediately stood up wearing an obscure look on his face.

"Chelsea..." He breathed as he hurriedly walked towards me and, to my surprise, he ever so gently caught my hand in his and lifted it in the air, as if he was searching for something. And after examining it thoroughly, he let go of it.

"W-what's wrong Harry?" I asked, feeling puzzled as to what had just happened.

"Nothing," he shook his head. "I'm just sorry for grabbing you like that earlier... I shouldn't have."

I frowned. "Then, why did you?"

"I was afraid."

You and me both, Harry.

"Afraid of what? I wasn't going to kill you in your sleep, you know."

"I was afraid that you were leaving me."

My heart accelerated like I was running a marathon. Would he have missed my presence if I had left?

"You're still my payload," he pointed out hurriedly so I wouldn't get the wrong idea but it was much too late for that.

"Oh,"  I said simply, "Right."

"I'll go down and see if breakfast is ready. I'll come and get you if it is." 

I merely nodded, not wishing for him to hear the hurt in my tone.

With that answer, he left in swift motion, leaving the room's emptiness to embrace my being. I fell back onto the bed to lie in my frustrated emotions.

A buzz which shook the side table caught my full attention. I snapped my heard to see the source.

Harry's phone.

No. It's none of your business Chelsea. Let it be.

BUZZ.

It won't stop ringing.

Maybe it is my business; it could be about me.

Oh, fudge it!

My hand grabbed the device and my thumb swiped the screen to connect me to the caller who had an unknown caller id.

"Harry. Nice job with Jones."

I recognised that it was the same mysterious voice that Harry was talking to the other day; he's the man who notifies Harry about his upcoming missions.

"You asked about the girl yesterday so I contacted the client. He said to keep her alive until the 23rd then he wishes to arrange a place to meet and have his last words with her and I quote 'see her squirm in pain'. Harry, I'm telling you this guy is sick to the bone and it doesn't help that he's a drunk. Too bad he's filthy rich and all - like the rest of 'em."

I didn't realise how much I had been shaking until the phone slipped from my hands onto the bed. The screen lit up and my eyes scanned today's date.

"Harry? You there, mate?"

1st of the month...

"Ah mate, I think they disconnected us. I'm gonna call you later. Fucking shit signal-" 

The line went dead.

Twenty three days until I'm dead.


A/N: Okay. I'm back. Hopefully there will be more updates during this month of August. I just really lack motivation sometimes but your comments and messages keep me going - they really do.

Thank you so much for bearing with me.

So, who do you think the client is?

I mean who would want the innocent Chelsea dead? :(

Let's see who calls it.

Anyway, what would you guys want to see happening before the 23rd day comes around? 

Hit me with all your suggestions - even weird ones - you never know what might make it in the story.

Much love x

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