Malignant [h.s]

Twenty Seven

Harry Styles

Two days later

I open the cold metal door to where Amelia has been locked up in for the past two days.

The light shines into the empty cell, revealing Amelia sitting with her knees to her chest in the corner. She turns and looks into the light piercing from the hallway but instantly covers them again, but with her hand.

"Lets go." I echo through the cold concrete room.

She hesitantly stands to her feet, in the same clothes I left her in forty two hours ago. She stand to her feet, removing her hand from her eyes but still squinting immensely. The light must be incredibly hard for her to adjust to.

Her eyes portray very dark circles underneath them, her hair looks a lot dirtier and matted from when I left her. Her lips are chapped and her once perfectly fitted white t-shirt is stretched out so it hanged off her one shoulder, exposing her black bra strap.

She looks lost and distorted. She seems incredibly worn out and tired.

She walks towards me and out of the cell. Immediately she stops in her tracks and holds her head in the intense light adjustments. Her feet stumble and I grab her from falling over. She can't even stand straight in this lighting after seeing nothing but the pitch black for the last two days.

"Can you walk?" I ask.

She doesn't answer me and instead tries to keep walking forward down the hallway but once again looses her balance, causing me to run and and catch her so she crashes back into my chest instead of the ground.

I huff and pick her up in my arms. She doesn't fight me, she just quietly places her head into my chest and shuts her eyes. I keep my one arm under her knees and the other under her back for support.

Wow she must be tired if she's letting me carry her, or even touch her at all. Once she gets back to the apartment and cleans her self up she'll be back to her old self in no time, it's just this adjustment that's hard on her right now.

We get into the elevator and the silence fills the room, with the only thing breaking it be the sounds of her light breathing. Her face is so pale and her body looks so weak, I imagine she hasn't eaten a thing for the past two days because I know her, she barely eats to begin with so anything they slipped under her door was probably stuff she didn't touch.

Two days in the pitch black where you see or hear nothing but your thoughts can be very hard on some people. She look liked she took it hard because she seems like a different person. From the second I opened that door again I expected for her to be yelling at me and calling me a psycho or some shit.

But that didn't happen at all. She quietly tried to stand to her feet and walk out. Then crashed into me when realizing she couldn't do it, no matter how strong she is.

Her hands stay balled up in fists as they rest against my chest, still seeming like they have some fight left. Her neglected brown hair hangs down while her face stays nuzzled into my body.

She's broken.

I broke her.

Her body stays perched in my grasp the entire way back up to the apartment. Once we get to the front door, I grab her wrist and pull it down to scan the bar code which unlocks the door. I could have enter the code and unlocked it myself but my hands we obviously too full for that.