Imprisonment | Harry Styles

Chapter 3

Harry.

My foot tapped away on the end of the bed, the springy mattress loud and obnoxious. My eyes were focused on the ceiling, the corner to be exact, a cigarette in my mouth with my arms above my head.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

It had been leaking all morning, the ceiling that is, and strange enough it was the most amusing thing I'd placed my eyes on since I got here. How it lingered on the edge until it finally fell onto the floor and exploded into many tiny and practically microscopic water molecules.

I then heard footsteps approaching my cell, loud clicks of low heels until they finally stopped. "Break time, Mr. Styles." I heard the familiar voice of Mr. Locke say.

My hand rose up quickly to yank the cigarette out of my mouth and hold it down by my side, "Don't wanna go today, Locke. I'm staying in." I murmured nonchalantly.

The sound of fumbling keys filled my ears, making me sit up immediately and drop the cigarette to the floor. I slowly dragged my foot across it and smashed it into the cement ground as if it would disappear.

"That's Mr. Locke to you, Harry. And is that another cigarette I smell?" I heard him ask, making me roll my eyes at his sarcasm and attitude. "I'm pretty sure we already had a talk about you smoking, did we not?" He added, now fully inside my cell.

I looked up at him, noticing he had another long wooden stick in his hand. He was rubbing the tip of it with his fingers, purposely teasing me.

My eyes widened, instantly sitting back on the bed until my back touched the concrete wall. "M-Mr. Locke, not again. God - I've already thrown up blood three times this morning from the last beating."

Locke only chuckled at my serious words. "Harry, if you don't want the beatings to continue," he tapped the wooden stick in his left hand, "then maybe you should learn from your lessons, yeah?"

My jaw clenched together at him, fists bawling up in anger. I tried my best not to get up and punch him in the face, it was so hard not to. "You're right Mr. Locke, I'll start behaving from now on." I said, added with a fake smile to go with it.

He eyed me before putting the stick back into his pocket, crossing his arms once it was put away. "Your sarcasm makes me want to beat you senseless with this stick, Styles. I'm sure Mrs. Conrad wouldn't mind that happening, either." He was now smirking at his own comment, while my jaw was still tightly clenched with anger.

"You're making it sound like she requests these beatings for me." I said, pure anger and frustration in my voice.

"Maybe she does," Locke said lowly, laughing a bit. "Maybe she doesn't. You deserve it anyway, Harry, you fucking killed her mother for crying out loud."

A low groan escaped my lips and I stood up, pacing back and forth in the tiny cell. "I didn't fucking kill her mom, okay?! How many times do I have to tell you people that?"

Mr. Locke was still laughing as I rambled on. "Oh my, Harry. How stupid are you to believe that we would actually think you didn't kill her mom? Your fingerprints were everywhere in that house."

"Okay, yeah I was a part of the killing, but I wasn't alone in it. I wasn't the only one who did it, damn it!" I shouted, reaching my hands up to my hair and pulling at it.

"Look, Harry, you're going to be here for a while. So you might want to start living with the facts, all right?" Mr. Locke said as he exited my cell, locking it immediately as soon as he was out. "See you later, Mr. Styles."

I jumped toward the bars and wrapped my fingers around them in a fist, squeezing tightly. The veins in my forearms popping out as I took all the strain out on the jail cell bars. "I wasn't the only one who fucking did it," I mumbled lowly to myself, only audible for my ears. At least that's what I thought.

"They'll never believe you, kid." I heard a tired voice say from across from me. My eyes shot up and searched for where the voice came from until I found a man in a cell straight across from mine. His hair was jet black, sticking straight up into a quiff. "My name's Jet, by the way."

I nodded, "Harry."

"I heard about your case," Jet laughed slightly, leaning against the bars of his cell. "That murder is all everyone here is talking about. Everyone's wonderin' how you did it alone."

"I didn't do it alone, that's the thing. In fact I hardly even participated in the murder itself. I only wanted the woman's money." I said, letting my fists loosen around the bars.

Jet laughed a little longer at my added reply. "Smart kid, aren't you? Well, they'll still never believe you, no matter how hard you try."

"What're you in here for exactly?" I asked.

"Stole some things, sold some things, you know. If you get what I'm saying." He said, a smirk on his lips as he leaned farther into the bars to support his weight.

A light chuckle left my lips as I continued listening to him. "I see, I see. Well how long have you been in here?" I changed the subject in case a guard happened to be listening.

"'Bout a month or two. Got a lot longer, though." He replied.

Once again, I nodded.

Jet and I continued our small talk for a little while longer until eventually the guards came back and took Jet away to have his break outside. I soon found myself laying on my uncomfortable bed, looking up at the corner of the ceiling and watching the water drip to the floor just like before Mr. Locke barged in on me. Although the dripping slowed down and wasn't as fast and frequent as before.

As much as I didn't want to think about it, I couldn't stop thinking about the girl I 'somewhat' met yesterday. Mr. Locke mentioned her name a few times: Riley Conrad. Even though he refers to her mainly as Mrs. Conrad.

Her face was full of sadness and screamed out depression. It was obvious she was close to her mother. And I helped take the thing she loved away from her. Honestly, it didn't bother me that much. I needed the money, although I didn't get it, and her mother was extremely wealthy.

The only thing that bothered me majorly was the fact that Riley might be requesting these beatings that I have been getting. Of course, she has a reason to do it, but it hurts like hell.

"Mr. Styles," I heard a voice behind me say quite loudly, interrupting my thoughts.

I sat up, turning around to face Mr. Locke. "Yes?" I replied, notifying him that I was actually listening this time. Well, for once I was listening to him.

"Mrs. Conrad is here. She's ready to talk to you about the murder."

a/n: two updates in a day whoaaa. thanks so much for the reviews, keep them coming I love to read them! :)