psy·cho·path [harry styles fanfiction]

Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8 ;

"Where have you been Harry!" A loud squeaky voice rung out. As soon as I stepped in through Harrys door my eyes landed on a tall looking red head. I closed the door slowly behind me and stepped further in until her pale blue eyes narrowed in on me.

"And who is this! Harry have you been cheating on me again." Her voice sounded like nails scraping on a chalk board. My eyes snapped to Harry at the mention of cheating. I raised my eyebrows at his standing form - his eyes were glaring at candy - the stripper.

"This is hazel, Candice, and no I'm not cheating on you." Harrys voiced sounded exhausted. I looked back toward the bony girl - her long arms crossed over her chest.

"Oh -" Candice stated, tilting her head to the side. "You look kinda familiar."

"I'm in a lot of commercials," I repeated what I had told Harry the first time I met him. The only difference is she actually believed it.

"What! Really? Could you hook me up, I think i could defiantly be an actress or something." She stepped closer to me and plastered on the most fake smile I had ever seen. From the corner of my eye I could see Harry rubbing his forehead into his palm.

"Yeah -" I paused, looked toward Harry and then back to the stripper - "I'll work on that."

She squealed and then excused herself saying she was going to tell her 'girlfriends' about it. I almost laughed in her face but Harrys burning gaze in the side of my face stopped me.

"Im sorry about that," Harry sighed - stepping farther into his home to pull off his shoes. I shrugged, "It's all good."

I followed on as Harry walked to the living room and plopped on the couch - throwing his legs up on the coffee-table in the process.

My eyes scanned the living room while Harry shut his eyes. It looked like any other normal living room - and that's what made my heart ache a little bit. Its been a long time since I've actually been in someone's home - I've just stayed at motels - I've basically always been on the run.

You walked into Harrys apartment and could smell the scent of home - it felt warm and cozy. It made my body feel empty - made my heart feel like it is in the pit of my stomach.

I took my home for granted growing up. Sure my parents weren't the nicest and sometimes it was a bit dirty. But it was somewhere where you know you could go after a long day - it was somewhat structured. Your day could have gone terribly but at the end of the day you went home. To your own bed - to your family.

And I didn't realize how much home met to me until it was taken away.

"You alright? Your spacing again." Harrys voice drew my out of my thoughts. The dull ache in my heart remaining.

"I'm good - just thinking." I shrugged and walked over to the coffee table to sit down - Harrys sitting form in front of me.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Harry asked - reaching into his sweatshirt pocket to pull out a penny. He held his hand out to me - a penny in his palm. I hesitantly took it.

My fingers played with the penny. "Is this your home Harry?"

"I Uhm -" he paused, "I suppose."

I shook my head, "I miss my home. I never thought it was home though until it was taken away from me."

We both sat in silence for a while. Harry stared up at the ceiling - brow furrowed. I twirled the penny in my hands trying to ignore the increasing ache that took over my body.

"Hey hazel?" Harry asked - breaking the silence. I moved my gaze toward him - his eyes now on me.

"Yeah?"

"What does it feel like being on the run?"

I almost laughed - "It sucks." My tongue ran over my bottom lip, "I've been on the run a long time - it's not something I'd wish on anybody. You always have yourself wondering if the cute boy staring at you across the street wants you or knows your wanted."

I've never really been able to trust anyone - but now being wanted - I couldn't trust anyone.

Im alone in this, and I've always known how to rely on myself but somedays I'm just so done I don't even try. It would help to have a friend or something to motivate me to keep running - but without anyone a small part of me just want to walk outside and turn myself in.

Spending the rest of my life in prison sounded a bit better than being alone for the rest of my life.

And in a sick way I kind of wished that night years back i turned the gun on myself and ended it all.

Flashback

My ears rang as I stumbled down the hallway splattered in blood. I could hear faint screams coming from downstairs - with blurry sight I stumbled down the stairs.

I turned toward the couch where men - I recognized - held my mother down - all of them laughing as she screamed for my father to help.

He was tied in the corner - men holding him back. He pulled at the restraints - shouting at the men to stop touching my mom. I'd never seen my father like this - he was livid - he actually cared about my mothers well being and it lit a spark in my heart.

Strong arms gripped me tight, pulling me away from the stairs and closer to my mom.

I had never been weak - always strong - I could take a bullet. But in this moment I shut my eyes in weakness - my mothers naked form and the greasy men's fingers prodding her in inappropriate places.

With blood seeping through my white tank top - the man pushed me to the ground. My knees colliding hard with the hardwood floor - my body felt paper light.

This was all my fault - my breathing was heavy - my eyes watering as I stared at the wall in front of me. Not daring to look toward my mothers crying eyes.

And in that moment I was weak and frightful - I had caused the damage being done. There was no one else to blame but myself. I couldn't even look towards my mother as she called out my name in plea, begging me to help her. The one moment they needed me to be strong, I broke.

"Aren't you going to help her hazel? Hmm."

Marcus crouched in front of me, smiling like a cheshire cat. "Shes begging you to help her hazel."

I shook my head, repeating 'no' over and over again. Everything was crumbling so fast - everything was going wrong. My mother was in my reach but I couldn't help her and that made me feel weak.

"Your next sweetheart," Marcus whispered in my ear. I cringed as he said - "You've gotten to weak darling."

Helplessness was one of the worst feelings in the world.

Flashback over

"Hey Harry?" I said - my my racing with images of that night.

"Yeah?" He questioned - now laying down on the couch, his hands splayed out on his stomach.

"I lied earlier. I've felt weak before, just one night. It was the worst feeling in the world."

"Did it make you stronger?" He asked, leaning up on his elbows to look at me.

I shook my head, "Its made me feel empty. It didn't make me stronger at all - in a way it made me less alive."

And it was true sometimes I had to check my pulse or put my hand to my heart just to make sure I was still alive because somedays it feels like the worlds the ocean and I'm stuck in the middle - drowning.

[a/n; Hiiii. New update - hope you enjoy. Please check out my new story 'Crossfire' I'm excited for it. Please please comment it inspires me to update sooner. So please

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