Fire (A Harry Styles Fan Fiction)

Chapter 50

“Dad, I’m back.” I shouted through the small archway connecting the stairway to the living room, closing the front door behind me. There were some fumbling noises on the other side of the house, to which I slowly approached.

“Vi?” Dad asked from the kitchen, his head popping around the corner. I smiled as I saw him, his grey hair swooping back over his head.

“Hey.” I said, placing my bag on the small white table positioned in the middle of the adjacent sofas. Seconds later, Dana stumbled out from the kitchen, a glass of white wine held delicately between her fingers. I smiled at her too, her short blonde hair just reaching her shoulders. Her lips pulled into an over enthused smile, revealing a few wrinkles on her otherwise perfect skin.

“How was your weekend?” Dad asked me placing his arm around Dana’s lower back, urging her closer to him. It reminded me of the way Harry and I acted, and I presumed this was what it was like to be on the receiving end.

“Not bad, went to Aubrey’s party, then stayed round hers for a few nights.” I had neglected to tell dad about Harry, although I was fairly certain he and my dad had already encountered each other. Dad nodded in response, Dana standing awkwardly beside him, gripping his waist and rolling the liquid around her glass. I rocked back and forward on my heels for a few seconds as the silence in the room pursued. Dana and my dad exchanged glances once, but not a word was spoken.

“I’m gonna go to my room…” I said, breaking the silence and the awkward barrier between us.

“Alright, dinner at six.” Dad said, turning round to fully look at Dana, his body much taller than hers. I cringed at seeing my dad divulge in amorous activities around women, although I was extremely happy for him to say the least.

***

It was pitch black outside; the only light visible at all in my room was the white haze of the computer screen. I sat on my chair lazily, pulling off my coat and throwing it on the bed behind me. I checked through all my social networks, no major news to report, so I got started on an essay for school, a 500 word segment on the deterioration of matter over time. This would be a night to remember…

I’d just got into my stride when I heard a familiar noise come from the computer, a message. I clicked off the Word document and opened up messenger.

“Jack Denver: Hello Violet” I looked at the message for several seconds, trying to think of the name, conjure up a memory of this boy.

“Violet Jett: Do I know you?” I replied after a few seconds of staring at the screen.

“Jack Denver: Better than you think” My mouth fell agape a little, a seed of fear growing inside me.

“Violet Jett: I think you have the wrong person”

“Jack Denver: Your little boyfriend sure is strung out without you.” My eyes grew wider, realisation setting in. Who was this person?

“Violet Jett: Who the hell are you?”

“Jack Denver: He just doesn’t know what to do with himself, pacing around his flat like a little pussycat waiting for his owner to come home…” My heart started to race, the though of Harry being watched scared me to death.

“Violet Jett: What do you want” I asked, afraid of his answer.

“Jack Denver: Be at Harrow’s car park in twenty minutes. If you’re not alone…well, you know what will happen.” My fingers began to shake against the keyboard, thoughts rushing through my head, the decision I had to make. Call this guy’s bluff. Who was he? How did he know who Harry was? How the fuck did he know where he lived? What did he want? My mouth went dry; all moisture seemed to rush to my palms. I sat in my chair, trembles silently coursing through my body, my blood boiling with rage, and of course, reignited within me, was the ultimate desire, to protect the one I loved.

***

The thin luminescence of the streetlight coated the pavement where I stood; the distant barking of domestic dogs rang through the air, breaking the silence. My breath left me in short tremors, showing up with a mist only visible in the dark air. I stood with my hands in my pockets, waiting for the mystery figure beside Harrow’s car park. I decided not to listen for footsteps, not to watch for a figure to emerge, instead, I stood waiting in utter silence, trying to listen to the wind blowing through the nearby trees, or perhaps the sound of cars speeding down the road a mile away, anything to distract myself from the terror that radiated through me. The cold got to me through the strict confines of my leather jacket, it seemed to scratch at my skin, each gust of wind raising the hairs on the back of my neck, each snap of a twig making my heart skip a beat, either in anticipation, or fear.

The wind pulled at my hair, whipping it across my face, distorting my gaze until all I could see was brown coated in the pale luminescence of the artificial light above me. I was so vulnerable, stood in the middle of a light space, where whoever this man was, he could see me and I couldn’t see him. He had me under his thumb, at his disposal. He had the pre-emptive strike.

Suddenly from beside me, a sharp thud, followed by the sound of footsteps getting increasingly closer, drawing near me. Then I heard the voice:

"Hello again, Violet."