loathed [Harry Styles]

chapter six

"Don't you dare fucking touch her."

Standing broad on one side of the room was Harry, his fists bawled with rage.

Then, there was my father. He looked no different to what he was 10 years ago, the scar that disturbed me still spread evenly from the tip of his chin to the corner of his sharp right cheekbone. In his hand he held a pistol, it was loaded and he was aiming it directly at me, as if he was against me in some way.

"Don't." Harry hissed again, edging closer to my heel.

"Then why didn't you give it to me, then?" My father barked. "Why didn't you give it to her, you useless piece of shit! I knew I shouldn't have trusted you with my daughter's virginity and I surely, son of a bitch I knew for sure," he inched slightly away from me, his hand tight on the pistol, and aimed the barrel towards Harry, “I couldn't trust you with the ring. Now guess where it is? Fucking guess!"

"It's with them! It's with them I fucking admit it, they were too smart for me, god damnit! But having to risk both my life and your daughter's because I did her and I gave away the ring? How bad of a father of you?"

"Fight me then, you bastard." My father let the barrel down, smirking deviously. "I want to see you try."

Harry didn't resist, he went head first towards my dad and clasped his hands around my father's bony neck, beginning to choke him.

"Nice try, fucker," my father said again, "but you'll never me trusted for the sake of the gang again." He raised his barrel, putting it to Harry's neck as Harry clasped harder, but he only laughed at his attempt.

"Goodbye, Harold Edward Styles, rapist, thief and traitor, see how your girlfriend would like it with Andrew."

The quick pull of the trigger aimed straight towards his chest left Harry penalized, letting go of my father's neck as he stepped back, choking. My father aimed at him a few more times, shooting violently. Harry staggered slowly into a fall, barely breathing.

"Connor, you...tell..." he inaudibly choked. His face fell to the side and blood pooled from his chest and rib cage.

"Oh, Florence," my father caressed, "you'll see."

Drenched in a cold sweat, I jolted up from my bed, the sun light peeking through the corners of my eyes. Where the hell was I, and to be more frank, what the hell just happened? Was that a mere vision or rather a nightmare? It seemed as if that very event could happen in the near future; my father and Harry, a duel against one, Harry fucking up, and the mention of Andrew...what was the meaning of that dream however?

I had realized that it was not another day, but in fact, I fell asleep in my booth at the little Starbucks I came across this morning. My laptop was overheating, and once I managed to turn it on once more, an error message popped up on the screen explaining how all of my work was saved. I opened up the file, and instead of a few sentences typed, it had 20 pages full of simply "vvvvvvvvvvvvv".

Wow.

The time was 12:14, so I was knocked out for at least a good 3 hours. Zayn--or was it Louis? No, it was Zayn, he was here with me before I fell asleep. He was telling me about some meeting the cult is hosting tonight.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" One of the workers was approaching me.

"Huh?" I gurgled.

"You somehow fell asleep after that man left. You've been here for 4 hours now, and it is against store policy that anyone resign here for over 3. I'm sorry, but we are going to have to ask you to leave."