Masked Insanity (Harry Styles)

Chapter 11: The Hall of Glass

I tapped my feet impatiently on the padded carpet of the classroom. I glanced around the room for something to distract me from my own thoughts, but I had no such luck. I craned my head to look at the clock in the back of the room.

"Two more minutes," I told myself, "only two more minutes."

This level of restlessness was quite unusual for me, but I desperately needed to get out of this dull classroom. The quieter it got, the faster the unwanted thoughts crept up on me.

All throughout the day, my brief yet intense conversation with Harry replayed in my head. He had been adamantly accusing me of cheating on some boyfriend I didn't even know I had. In any other circumstance, I would have laughed it off and simply denied everything, but it hurt to know that Harry had such a low opinion of me. That, and the way, he was speaking to me, with his emerald eyes blazing, his nose flaring, and his face flushed with anger. It was honestly terrifying, and it faintly reminded me of Ms. Beilhart.

I had no idea where that woman got her qualifications to direct an orphanage anyway. I vividly recall her coming home at midnight every single weekday, drunk off her ass and entangled with a new man. She made no attempt to keep quiet, despite the dozens of toddlers sleeping throughout the building. Unfortunately, I had the only bedroom on the first floor, which meant I heard everything. Their heavy moans and grunts ricocheted off my walls, sickening me to the point of insomnia.

And believe it or not, those were the better days. The days where she remained at home were the worst. For some reason, I was the chosen subject of all her abuse and torment. I always did the most chores, I was always the one that helped her with her wicked hangovers, and I was always the one who she took her misery out on when she discovered the men she brought home had left her.

But I was still never enough. Everything I did was wrong in her eyes, and it seemed like she despised me more each day. Most of my life was spent dreaming of the day I'd escape that hell-hole, and I eventually did.

I guess that was the reason why I reacted so violently to Harry's screaming. I didn't take well to any kind of abuse, verbal included.

"Maybe you were wrong, he isn't in our class," I heard a girl say to her friend from two seats away. My ears perked up, and I began attentively eavesdropping. I really needed a distraction.

"No, I'm positive he is. I peeked at the class roster, and I swear I saw "Harry Styles" right after my name," the friend protested. My stomach dropped.

"I guess he just didn't show," the girl replied sadly, "not that I'm surprised. He can get away with anything. This school won't dare kick him out, what with his had dad paying to keep it running." I couldn't help but feel the need to defend Harry. It was evident that he took pride in his independency, yet everyone at this school was quick to judge him because his father was rich. I pushed down the insult bubbling up my throat and swiftly stood up. Seconds later, to my relief, the teacher dismissed class. I gathered my books and power-walked out of the room before the exit was jammed with students.

I left the small building and walked out onto the soft expanse of greenery that covered most of the campus. I glanced down at my map and made my way to the main administration building. From there, I followed John's directions and found the pathway to the left. It was a narrow, cobblestone path leading down a small hill around the administration building.

The closer I got to my destination, the more nervous I got. I pulled my hair out of the ponytail it had been in all day and hastily combed my fingers through it. I clutched my book tighter to my body in anxiety. I was never the kind of girl who went to the parties or had a lot of friends. The thought of joining a sorority wouldn't even cross Scarlet Griffin's mind, but she was gone for the time being. Right now, I was Hazel Morgan.