the criminals // h.s. short story ((editing))

xii.

Previously in The Criminals:

"What does..." I started, but the kisses that he planted to my neck distracted me: not in the best way, to be honest. I tried to ignore the fact that he was eating my neck and proceed, "what does Louis mean when he says you own me?" his kisses stopped, he was completely taken aback by my question.

"What?" he withdrew, "what do you... how do you know?"

"I heard Louis talk about that with Zayn the other day when he was about to give me my breakfast," I said, a little bit impatient. Now it seemed like he was scared... scared of me. "tell me, Harry," I insisted, "what does Louis mean when he says you fucking own me?"

"Harry." I insist, panic taking over me: it can't be that bad... right? I bet Louis just said that making jokes about Harry's possessive behavior, but he's not serious about it... right?

Harry keeps staring at me with widen eyes, he looks in shock and I really don't know how bad the truth can be to get him this tense.

"I..." he lets go my arms and his eyes wander around the room, as if trying to find a way to escape. He sighs, looking back at me, his expression blank. "Remember the day your dad took you to that Casino in Las Vegas?"

My eyebrows came down in a frown, confused; I didn't know what he wanted to tell me. And then it hit me.

My body tensed, my heart stopping by a millisecond.

"Yes... I was 14." I whispered more to myself than to him. My head shot up, "how do you know I was there?"

"Because I was there, too." He finally said after a long pause. "You didn't see me, but I did see your father."

"What do you mean? What are you trying to say?" I became more and more frightened with every second that passed.

"Your dad and I were supposed to meet there, at the Casino," he begun, "he said we had to do things fast because he was with you. I didn't see you until he was about to go. I... I really don't know what came over me, but when I saw you I... the point is: I made a bet with your father. It was the stupidest thing ever, but he accepted anyways. We'd play in the gamble and if he won, I'd had to do some things for him. But if I won... you'd be mine. And I won, actually; I was so happy because I got you, but your dad couldn't accept it. He almost killed me that night. I remember he stabbed me at least 10 times before I fainted. And when I woke up, I was in the hospital and got told you were gone."

I shut my eyes tightly, my breath erratic; tears came to my eyes as I tried to process everything he just told me. So my dad just gave me away? So all this time, I wasn't supposed to be with him but with Harry?

"And when we kidnapped you, I didn't even realize it was you until you said your name. You looked so different, and so did I. That's why you don't remember me. And that was one of the main reasons I killed your father... because he took away from me something that was supposed to be mine since the beginning."

"NO, HARRY! I WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE YOURS. I AM NOT YOURS." I spat, the tears spilling down my eyes. "YOU'RE LYING!" I cried, "YOU'RE LYING!"

"WHY WOULD I LIE ABOUT THIS?" He answered with the same force as me. "THIS IS SERIOUS, AVERY."

I shook my head, closing my eyes. This is not real, this is not happening.

"You're lying." I sobbed, lowering my head. "You're lying." I repeated.

"I am not lying, Avery." He stated. I looked at him with pity and disgust; does he think it's easy for me to just accept the fact that my dad bet me? That I kept living with my dad just because he is a bad loser and can't accept when he's lost something... for real?

"How could you!" I spat, but most to my father. How could he do that? "Why would you do something like this?!"

"I... well; you were the one who asked for the truth. This is the truth, if you can't accept it, it's your deal." He shrugged. "Avery," he took a step closer, but I flinched.

"GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU SICK BASTARD." I yelled at the top of my lungs, my throat aching for all the effort I put into my sentence.

"SHUT UP!" He raised his hand to slap me, and this time, I didn't react to it. I didn't move, I didn't flinch. And he noticed that.

"You can beat me all you want right now, you can even kill me. I don't care anymore." I said slowly, not looking at him. I've been resisting all this abuse; I've been trying to cope with all this pain. Since the first day, since the very first day. I've been trying to escape and to be free, to be with my mother again, to live my life again. I had the faith that everything would get better and I'd see the light that will guide me home. But right now, I don't care.

I give up.

"COME ON, KILL ME!" I insisted when he didn't move. He looked taken aback by me. "DEATH'S BETTER THAN THIS."

He just stared at me and didn't say anything.

"COME ON!" I spat. His hand flew to my cheek, hitting it really hard. My head moved to the side at the harsh contact, and when I turned to face Harry, he'd already left the room.

{...}

I opened my eyes when I heard the door open, making a loud bang. Within seconds, tons of men dressed in black carrying guns where inside the same room I was in. I looked at them, terrified. What the hell was this?

"The perimeter is empty," one of the guys dressed in black said. He turned around to face me, "untie her hands." He told to the block next to him; two guys ran to the back of the chair and started undoing the ties and ropes that attached my wrists and arms to the chair. Within seconds, I was free again.

"What is happening?" I asked.

"We're taking you home, Avery." The man that stood in front of me gave me sincere smile.