Hired by Styles (Harry Styles)

Chapter 23

Yuh, I know this chapter isnt great but I was hurrying to give it to you guys. So here.

Sorry if there is any typos I was hurrying to yuh here.

Enjoy ily,

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T a y l o r

A week has passed sine Max’s weird outburst, Cheyenne’s murder, and Harry leaving me and not coming back. I couldn’t blame Harry, I was acting funny around him, even I was acting funny to myself not knowing If I was drunk or high, or both.

But if I were drunk or high, I would be high off of my stubbornness and drunk from my negativity towards others. Ever since Max threatened me and changed his ways around me I started to become like him.

Instead of picking the gorgeous white flowers delicately from their places in the soil, I ripped their beautiful buds viciously from the green stems and threw them onto the ground and stomped on them with the peep of my toes. Instead of writing in my regular light cursive with girly ‘Y’s’ and ‘G’s, I wrote in dark printed words and made sure my ‘G’s’ and ‘Y’s’ looked like blood was dripping from their stems, only the lowercase ones of course.

And instead of calling Harry from when he left to make sure he was okay, or to hear his deep and husky voice that I fell in love with, I ended up baking brownies and enjoying the world while my boyfriend, or so I thought he was, was somewhere I didn’t know.

But honestly, I could care less. But I didn’t know how long it was going to be until I gave up this ‘tough gal’ act. To be extra honest, I was getting tired of pressing hard onto the pencil because it was hurting the space between my index finger and my thumb, where I usually hold the pencil, someone advised me to use a grip but yet again, I was drowning myself in my own stubbornness and negativity I shooed their helpful advice away. Also, for someone who loves girly things like flowers, cookies and princesses I wasn’t very happy with myself as I ripped the poor heads off of those beautiful flowers I could’ve used to make something unique like a picture frame made out of flower buds or earrings. But instead I was too busy stomping on the damn things like they were ants.

But I don’t think my actions were caused by Cheyenne’s death or Max’s outburst, but by Harry abducting me and taking me from the real world and sticking me into a place my father has once been in. A place that I didn’t know was so bad until I saw it in person, a place that I wish to be in at this moment.

I’ve changed since I’ve been abducted two months ago, besides running and growing a bit slimmer (and more known in the world), I’ve started to lose my mind and feel like I needed to be put in a straight jacked in a padded-walled asylum with soft blocks on my feet to control myself from kicking my face with my legs or doing self-mutilation. But in a way I feel like Harry also saved me, for if I was left on my own, the people who killed Cheyenne and her mother would come find me and also end my life, probably how the ended my family’s life.

But wait.

If the demons were coming after me they possibly knew about my family, or even took place in murdering my family. For my dad was a mob member and got him into a lot of trouble.

“Oh my god!” I whisper-yelled to myself, piecing the thoughts together and capturing the puzzle that I’ve longed to piece. “If only Harry were here to help me…” I pouted, hanging my head down and letting the tears prickle through my eyes. This ‘tough Taylor’ act was coming to an end as Cheyenne’s death and Harry’s exit was getting to my head.

I was surprised that I kept a week sane to myself, not even missing Harry’s kisses, or his perverted actions towards me or even his cock. Which I truly did miss but had to push my own dirty thoughts to the back of my head.