I sit on my bed feeling very light headed. Why would he kiss me? I mean from what I've seen so far he's got a thing for me, but I mean I didn't think he was that far into the whole thing. He just fucking kidnapped me for gods sake!
*FLASHBACK*
He kisses me and...
"Uh... I'm sorry... I'm extremely sorry." He gets up in a panic and quickly moves from the 'cell'.
"I..." He's already running down the hall when I get to the door. "I'm sorry too." I whisper to myself as I sit back on my bed.
...............
I'm guessing it's about one in the morning, because I can't hear anybody walking around upstairs, at around ten till midnight, there was people running around and shouting. I can't get to sleep, there's the whole kidnapping thing going through my head. How the fuck did they know I was going to that café today? How the fuck did they know I worked part-time at a museum?
The kiss is also a priority right now, I mean I know it's just a kiss but, why would someone kiss their victim they only kidnapped a day ago (roughly). My brain is too mushed to think right now.
*IN THE MORNING*
This bloody bed is giving me back cramps. Look at me, my second day as a kidnap victim and I'm already complaining about a lumpy mattress.
I walk over to the sink and look into the mirror, there's bags under my eyes and the white in my eyes are all blood shot. Most probably because I didn't sleep well last night. I really need some foundation to cover it up though because it really does look bad. My tummy starts to rumble and that's when I realise I haven't eaten in over ten hours.
Fuck! That's the longest I've gone without food. This is bad, really bad. I have to have food, it's essential for me to have food. I start pacing the cell. This is excruciating for me, because food is like my life. My tummy rumbles again. I need something to occupy me. I look around the room for a while just to take in how dirty and dusty it is in here. I really want to clean this now.
"It hasn't been cleaned for about a year."
"FUCK ME SIDEWAYS!" I shout literally jumping out my skin. Okay not literally, but it felt like it.
"No thanks." Harry says chuckling quietly.
"Sorry, you startled me that's all. How did you know I was thinking about the cleanliness?" I say sitting down on the lumpy bed.
"It was just the way you were looking around, you seem pretty easy to read sometimes."
"Oh okay."
"I apologise again for last night, I didn't mean to..."
"It's okay." I but in, I don't want to hear anymore apologies right now. "It's kinda my fault as well."
"How is it?" He asks tapping on the bars.
"I don't know." I sigh. "I always say things are my fault but I never know how or why they are my fault. It's strange."
"It's not strange... It's just you." He smiles slightly.
"What do you mean 'it's just you."
"Basically it's how you are, you don't want others to feel bad for what they've done, so you blame yourself. Which isn't the right way to go, if someone has done something bad let them deal with it or blame themselves for it, because then you won't feel so down and upset." He looks down, like he's embarrassed about what he's said.
"How do you do that?" He looks up confused.
"Do what?" He laughs lightly.
"Understand people."
"I don't know." He sits crossed legged on the floor. "It's strange."
"It's not strange... It's you."
"HARRY!!!" Someone shouts.
"That's Zayn." He gets up quick. "I better go... I mean, I gotta go... Um... Bye." He runs down the corridor like a frickin leopard. Does Zayn scare him?
