Larry - Gone

Chapter 3 - Beaten

Dedicated to xRockMe bc she has been waiting for an update for forever so..thanks for waiting, writing up the next one now!;D

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    I wanna stay up all night and dance around until we see the sun! I wanna stay up all night and find a girl and tell her she's th-

    I groaned blindly feeling around until I turned off my radio alarm. Being woken up to one of your own songs is just embarrassing. I rolled onto my back rubbing my eyes. I’d barely gotten an hour of sleep – I’d being trying to convince myself all of this was a nightmare, trying to wake up, but it was all real – and now I was shattered.

    Finally getting out of bed, and I had a shower and went to make breakfast, pulling out two bowls because Harry was always up later than me so I had to make his brea- wait, shut up Louis, Harry’s gone. Gone.

-o-

    Bring bring! Bring bring!

    I dived for the phone before I missed the call, ‘Hello?’

    ‘Get to the station now Tomlinson, we have a video message from him, from Peters’ and they hung up.

    I grabbed my bag and phone and dashed to the station, running, since I no longer had my car.

-o-

    ‘Play it! Play it now!’ I shouted as I entered the station, making sure they could hear me. There was a rustle and a clicking sound as they started the video.

    I joined them in the small office room, standing behind a table, resting my hands on it as I fixed my eyes on the video, but I hadn’t braced myself for what was coming. I didn’t exactly what to expect, maybe him threatening to hurt Harry and demanding ransom money? But whatever I had suspected to happen was completely wrong.

    It was a small room, but you couldn’t make anything out, other than the window in the background, the stars lighting the room, so the video was obviously from last night. Someone turned the light on, and they was Harry, strapped to a wooden chair on the floor, his head bowed, his chest slowly rising and falling, he looked asleep, although I could only see the top of his mop of curls, so there was no way of really knowing. There was a loud bang and his head shot up, his eyes landing on the camera, then they drifted to something to the right of it.

    ‘W-what are you doing… what are you holding?’ he stuttered, his face going pale.

    No answer. He looked around franticly, then he face fell, he realised what was about to happen, I hadn’t yet, ‘Please no…’ he whispered.

    ‘What’s going on?’ I asked the officer next to me, but he just ignored me, his face grim, jaw clenched.

    Floorboards creaked as a man walked forwards – Peters by the looks of it – holding a long, wooden baton shaped object. Two other men walked in and they faced the camera, then lifted Harry’s chair up, and unstrapped him. They pushed him forwards so he fell onto the floor, where he pulled himself up, backing away from them, but his back hit the wall.

     Then I realised, and I didn’t think I’d be able to watch it. But before I could turn my head away, it happened.

    ‘No escape, Styles’ they hissed.

    ‘Oh my God’ were the words drawn from Harry’s mouth before a wooden stick was smashed down onto his head.

    He yelped and fell back down against the wall as the three men beat him repeatedly. They punched, kicked and hit him with various objects from around the room until they were completely tired out.