"Annie!" I shouted, looking around frantically as I searched for my little cousin.
"Annie answer me, answer Hazza!" I shouted again, and I heard her sobbing.
"He's hurting me Hazzy! Why won't you help me?" She cried, and I began sprinting to where her voice was coming from. I hit the door and rebounded, almost knocking me over as it stayed put.
"Hazza!" She screamed, as I hit the door over and over again. Her screams cut off, and the door finally opened. I ran in, and saw-
...
I shot up, my chest heaving as sweat dripped from my forehead into my eyes. I rubbed the back of my hand over it and stood, wincing as the coldness of the floor bit into my bare feet.
I padded over to the cell door, peering out. A guard was standing outside the door, and I tapped my fingers against the bulletproof glass to get his attention. His eyes snapped over to meet mine, and I realised it was Niall. He raised an eyebrow at me, but came over. He drew his baton at the same time as his keys, motioning me to step back. I did. Barely. He entered, giving me a dirty look.
"What do you want Harry?" He said harshly, his eyes taking in my appearance. My uniform top was unbuttoned and hanging my waist. I was barefoot, and my trousers were raggedy. The uniform was a one piece, which was bloody stupid.
"Water." I said bluntly, ignoring the manners my mum had taught me when I was little. Niall rolled his eyes and left, slamming the door behind him. I sat on the edge of my bed, my fingers fiddling with the moth-eaten sheets. My hair fell over my eyes and I shoved it back impatiently. I thought longingly of my bandana, but it was lost somewhere in the warehouse and I couldn't exactly go and damn get it. I began ripping the sheets, tearing a strip off and tying it around my forehead, holding my hair off my eyes and forehead. It was nowhere near as good as my bandana, but it would have to do.
The door opened again and I turned to see Niall entering with a cup of water in his hand. I reached out and took it from it, gulping it down greedily. The water soothed my aching throat, and I held it out to the Irishman. He took it with a conflicted look, and I knew he was tempted to throw it at my head. He scowled at me and I smirked. He left the cell, slamming the door again behind him. I laid down on my bed again, stretching out and closing my eyes. I knew without opening my eyes that my butterfly tattoo was stretching over my stomach. I ran my tongue over my lips and missed the familiar feeling of my lip ring. I removed an arm from behind my head and ran a finger over my eyebrow, not used to the two rings being missing. I placed my arm back behind my head and closed my eyes again. I remembered the hassle the nurses had when they had tried to take them out.
"Hold him down!" One shouted, filling a syringe with a clear liquid.
"Fuck you!" I spat as four nurses attempted to hold me down. I thrashed on the metal table, the cold surface biting into my exposed skin as my shirt rode up my back. The nurses attempted to strap me down, and I kicked out as one tried to tie my foot. I hit him square in the nose and he yelled, backing away and clutching his face. Blood dripped down between his fingers and another nurse hit me across the face, the stinging sensation making me grunt and clench my teeth. I glared at him with loathing and fear filled his eyes briefly before he blinked, a determined look masking his face.
"Just calm down Harry!" One of the smaller nurses shouted, holding down my arm. My fingers wiggled as I tried to grab him, and he glared at me.
"You can't keep them in, it's the policy!" He tried to reason with me. I knew what the fucking rules were. I just didn't care.
"Fuck off," I spat, and his eyes hardened. The nurse managed to fill the syringe and rushed over, placing a hand on my arm as he tried to steady me for the injection.
