Harry's pov-
Three days later
It was early and I was hot.
Ducki was sprawled across my chest when I woke up, her hair creating a halo around me. My arm was draped around her, keeping her body close to mind and protecting her from the nights harm. The curtains left a sliver of light from the windows sink into the dark room, reminding me to wake up and start another day of hell.
I barely slept last night. Although Ducki was here, I had terrible nightmares; probably because I didn't take my insomnia pills. I only took them when she was gone.
I probably should get used to taking them more often.
Ignoring her sleeping groans, I lightly shoved her off of me and shrugged out of bed. Something inside me shifted and I felt angry for no reason, mad at the world.
I was fucking pissed about Zayn and Liam. I thought I could take care of her, and I failed.
I had to tell her everything about my past, which I had never done before, and that still wasn't enough of an explanation. I left out key details I was glad I didn't share.
My hands rubbed over my face and I felt the stubble of a growing beard scratch my palms. I leaned against the sink counter and stared at the white sink below me, seeing my reflection repeat my motions in the mirror. My skin was red and dry; irritated like my mood. Bags were carried by my under-eyes and my hair was a mess on my head. I looked like a fucking homeless junkie.
I needed time to myself, I thought. I wish Ducki would see how bad I am for her and leave me. No I don't, I want her to stay...
Her knocks on the bathroom door I locked brought me back into the reality I had created and I took a deep breath before responding.
"I'll be out in a minute," I mumbled. My voice cracked with the raspiness of the morning and I cleared it. "Go make some coffee or something."
"Are you sure you're alright? You're kind of acting weird--"
"I'm fine, Ducki. I'm just fine." I grit my teeth and hear her sigh on the other side of the door.
When I hear her footsteps down the hall, my fist pounded into the dry wall next to me as anger flooded through my burning veins and I pictures their faces under my knuckles. Instantly my skin broke and blood raced down my hand, mixing into the water I ran it under.
I wiped the excess on my white shirt, smearing the red stain across the fabric. I stare at the window and porch leading out of the bathroom, feeling the gravity pull me to the door and my fingers opening the knob. I crawled out onto the porch and stared at the back yard grass about ten feet below me. Without looking, I hopped over and landed on the grass. I had one thing set on my mind; and that thing would probably put me in prison.
Before I could argue, I slid into my car and set on the gas, driving down the driveway and onto the road. I knew exactly where the junkies were without a second thought.
Minutes later I arrived at the club. At only eight a.m, I could smell the weed and alcohol from outside. Walking in though the back door where the black-wearing prostitutes, who wave at me with their long ass fake nails and giggle.
"Hey Harry, need a spare key?" One of the snakes hissed as I strutted past them and brushed their shoulders.
"Fuck off, where's Liam and Zayn?" I spit in their cake faces and they lick their lips with the residue on them.
