A/N Still feel like shit, but excuse me while I inform you guys on my person accounts.
Instagram: thegreattonystark or aliensxrxrad
Kik: Louist91.marvel
Anyways, I'm not very fun to talk to. But, y'know... It's whatever. *shrugs*
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Days have passed and not a word has been shared between the two boys. Harry had gotten out of the hospital the day after him and Louis' last words were said to one another. He's done nothing but sulk in his room. Crying himself to sleep each and every night. He doesn't eat much, nor does he go out like he used to. Anne's worried about him. She doesn't know why he's being like this. She's unaware of what had happened between Louis and Harry in the hospital room when he'd woken up. She's tried asking him about it, but he refuses to even speak. He hasn't said one word since he last talked to Louis. He's completely shut down.
Anne's concerned for her sons safety. She fears he's falling into a deep depression, she's right. But, there's nothing she can do about it since Harry won't even let her in his room. Harry just sits in his room, curled up in his bed. The blinds down, not allowing any light whatsoever to enter his room. It's pitch black, reeking of depression. His hair greasy and clothes dirty. He hasn't showered, he has no motivation to do anything anymore.
He's lost the one thing he loved the most in this damn world. The one thing that made him feel whole and worth something. Something more than just another serial killer. A serial killer. Harry scoffs at the thought. He is a serial killer. Serial killers never have a happy ending, so I guess loosing Louis shouldn't be a surprise. He kills innocent people just for the fun of it. He finds it thrilling, but I think we've all caught onto that.
Harry sighs quietly, sniffling lightly as he turns over in bed and looks at the clock. 4:20 a.m. He chuckles softly at that. 4:20 is the time he should be getting high. He hasn't gotten high in a while. Maybe weed could help lift his spirits. Weed and little bit of murder. Nothing too drastic. As if murder isn't even a sin. Harry's been in bed for what feels like forever, but in reality it's only been a week and a half. He thinks about leaving, going out to get pissed drunk, high as fuck, and kill some people. He believes it's a good idea. It should be fun to release some tension.
He decides to get up and stop dwelling on the past. He walks over to his closet and throws on a pair of black skinny jeans and a black hoodie. He doesn't bother with showering and just puts his long curly hair in a bun before putting on some black combat boots. He grabs his pocket knife and cellphone. Climbs out his window and lowers himself onto the ground. He breaths in the nice, cold, fresh air and sighs quietly. Closing his eyes lightly as he lets the air hit his face softly. He opens his eyes and pulls up his hood as he begins making his way down the road, letting his feet take him wherever they want to lead him.
Harry finds himself in the sketchy part of town, the part of town where everything looks beaten and broken. The streets are filthy, filled with prostitutes and drug dealers, along with trash and homeless people. The streets are light dimly with street lamps and that stars above. The sun not yet coming up. Harry walks down the sidewalk, looking around at his surroundings. Some prostitutes lick their lips and wink at him as he walks by them. He smirks lightly to himself, maybe he'll fuck one of them just for the hell of it and kill them right after. But, he's not in the mood for sex tonight. Just murder and weed is good enough for right now.
He found himself a drug dealer and bought a forty sack. "You're pretty young, aren't ya?" The dealer asks, Harry nods, "I am, why?" He says in a slow, deep, raspy voice.
"I've got a job for you if you're interested, mate."
Harry shrugs and thinks for a moment, "Sure, why the hell not. I've got nothing better to do with my life." He agrees.
"Now that's what I like to hear." The man laughs. "The names Tony. Now, what you gotta do is sell to the kids at your school. I've got a few teenage buyers and it's hard to get to them sometimes. If you help me out, you get half of whatever they give to you." He states. Harry thinks it over for a moment.
"Yeah. Sure. You've got yourself a deal." He stupidly agrees. Tony smiles and gets Harry's name and number. "Alright, dope. I'll text you when I've got the stuff. I'll give you the time and place of where to deal with the kids. Some of them might ask for your number so they can just tell you where to meet them and what not." He informs. Harry nods, "And if you get caught, you don't know me."
"I won't get caught. I'm pretty good at staying away from the cops." Harry smiles.
"I like you already kid." Tony laughs and shakes his head. "I've got shit to do, see you around." He says before he walks off. Harry watches the man, not even feeling guilty about the deal he had just made.
He stands their for a moment before he continues on his way. He walks for a few moments until finding a homeless man sleeping in a pile of trash. He smirks to himself as he grabs the man by the collar and pulls him into a nearby alley way. He stabs the man roughly and violently a couple times before snapping his neck. He wipes off his knife and slips it back into his pocket. Rolling himself a nice fat blunt before leaving the dead, bleeding, old, homeless man near a dumpster in the alley. He smokes his blunt as he makes his way back home. Not having a care in the world. He feels better than he did before. He feels numb. But, feeling numb is better than feeling depressed and like shit.
The thought of being a drug dealer bothers him not one bit. He doesn't care about anything anymore. He has no fucks to give.
Life means nothing to him.
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A/N The ending was better, but then wattpad deleted it. So now its shit. But what-fucking-ever. I don't care. I'm kinda like Harry. I have given up on life and everyone.
