(DISCONTINUED)

○ 4.1 :: When Will This Stop Man Idk ○

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Dedicated to whollyyharryy because her comments kill me and her stories are the bomb diggity.

*

"The number you have dialled has not been recognised. If you think you are reaching this message in error, please check the number and try again."

I hung up once again and stared down at the screen of my phone, baffled. The number glared back at me, the digits swimming when my eyes watered from not blinking for so long, but never changing. I blinked away the tears and recited the numbers in my head for the countless time, staring and staring until the screen blurred and my head began to ache. It hadn't changed; I knew that for sure, because I'd had it memorized for a long time. Taking a deep breath, I tapped the call button and pressed the phone back to my ear.

There was a click, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Harry-"

"The number you have dialled has not been recognised-"

A sob crept up my throat, the phone being thrown to the other end of the bed in a fit of anger, frustration and overwhelming sadness. The number in my phone hadn't changed since I got it from Niall, which could only mean one thing:

Harry had changed his number.

But how? He was here just a few mere hours ago. Had he already changed his number then? Did he already know what he was going to do? Why did he sit there and let me talk about the trip to America in January and promise to send my father his details if he knew he was going to leave? Why would he let me give myself to him and happily watch me at my most vulnerable, only to leave just a few hours later? Was this why he begged me to tell him to stop?

Another sob echoed into the empty room. Was that all he'd wanted? To get into my pants in some way? To corrupt me and then leave me hanging? I'd destroyed my relationship with my mother because of him. Maybe if he hadn't shown up, I wouldn't have gained such an attitude with her, and she wouldn't have slapped me.

Or was Harry just the catalyst in our downward spiral? Thinking about it now, Theresa probably would've hit me sooner or later, and I probably would have grown some balls and stood up for myself in the very distant future. So, yeah, maybe Harry showing up wasn't all bad, but he had made me care about him, made me catch feelings, then left without so much as a warning or an explanation.

And now I was alone.

The screen of my phone flickered off, taking away the only source of light and plunging the room into darkness. For a few moments all I could see was pitch black, but slowly my eyes adjusted and the vague silhouettes of the furniture came into view. I was all on my own in the dark, and without Harry there the images from my nightmares returned, leaving me feeling more vulnerable than ever. The only thing I was capable of thinking of was Des and his psychotic smile, a bloodied knife in his hand. What if Des and Dylan were there right then and I didn't even know about it? What if they were watching me, waiting for the right time to kill me? What if Des had found out we hadn't been heeding his warning for the past five days and came to finish off the job?

I whimpered and hugged my knees to my chest, tugging the comforter closer to me. I was scared and alone, and now I had nobody to call.

With fresh tears in my eyes, I darted forward and grabbed my phone before diving underneath the quilt and pulling it over my head as if it would ward Des away. My trembling fingers fumbled as I opened up my contacts and called the first number I knew I could talk to.