Teenage Waste [Harry Styles AU]

Four

Annabella.

Instead of going to bed like my dad thought, I stayed awake, searching through the assortment of unpacked boxes for anything that could help me. If I was going to keep investigating this and trying to piece things together, it'd be safer to do so at school, where there were at least a thousand other students who had access to the many computer labs. All I needed was a reliable, new USB drive. Somewhere in my room was a small tin lunchbox full of used and unused drives, the used ones labeled with the printable labels. They weren't named after the case in any way, but instead my own system of codes that I kept both on an electronic record and a handwritten record. All of my previous work had already been transferred to the NYC Police, along with a copy of the list. Although there was still tons of unformation and data on the USB sticks, they were ony accessible through the NYC department; I just kept the used drives for the memories. 

Finding my technology box, I ripped open the tape seal and pulled apart the cardboard flaps, rummaging around for the Peter Pan lunch box. It was at the very bottom of the box and the squeaky handle groaned as I lifted it out. I actually shushed the inanimate object, as if it would actually listen. My heart was racing-- my dad knew this box well, and if he came in to check on me and found the lunch paiul in my hands, I would be in massive trouble. I kept my eyes trained on the crack underneath the door, the gap between the wooden surface and the carpet giving me enough room to see dips in the flooring id someone were to walk across it. I waited a few moments before I turned back towards the lunch box and undid the latch, pulling the tin lid open. 

At least a hundred different USB drives were piled on top of one another, and it'd be impossible to find a clean one without making noise. I turned the pail over, dumping the black drives onto the carpet and searching through the white labels until I found a clean one. A small spread across my face as I twirled it around in my fingertips. I knew that I had to do this, I knew that I was going to have to figure it out on my own now. My dad wasn't going to tell me anything. I set the black USB drive aside, putting everything else back into the box and closing it up. After I had run my hands through the carpet to ensure that I hadn't missed any, I pulled out the electronic labelling system and turned it on, the quiet whirring not enough to wake my dad. I typed in the code name I was planning on using, waiting patiently for it to print. "Repayment" was quite obvious, but it was one I could play off as being my banking records. The white label fit snuggly around the USB drive and I pushed myself up, hastily making my way over to my keys on the nightstand and clipping the USB drive to them. I had a moment of doubt, however, when I held the thing in my hands. My dream was just a dream, but they had been looking for the USB drive dream-me had had in her hands. This process was more than potentially dangerous. 

I needed to do it, though. It was a potentially selfish decision, but I wanted to know, and I wasn't going to relax until I found out the truth. 

I sighed, putting my keys on the nightstand again and heading to the bathroom. I pulled off my pajamas and ran the water, tugging on the trigger for the water pipers to start flowing the water towards the shower head. I figured that since I was already up, I'd start getting ready for the day, and maybe I'd actually have time for breakfast. I stepped into the shower and shut the glass door behind me. When my mom had told me that my mind was a dangerous place, I believed her immediately, and it became extremely hard for me to give myself time to think, because I had once been terrified of my brain. Now, all I did was overthink and overprocess. I pumped a few dollops of Morrocan Shampoo into my palm and ran it through my hair, lathering it up until it was a soapy mess. The sweet smell of coconut and vanilla overwhelmed me as I turned around and started rinsing out the soap, my long hair sticking to my back. Normally, I gave myself five minutes to shower, but today I found myself spending a little over twenty minutes in the shower. I rinsed out my conditioner and rinsed off my body before I stepped out and wrapped a towel around myself. I knew I wasn't going to do anything special with my hair today, so I pulled it up into another bun and slipped on a bra and a camisole, pulling up board shorts before I walked out of my room and down to the kitchen. There was rarely any breakfast foods that I actually liked, but one of my favorite snacks was a homemade English-muffin churro, and rght now that sounded better than anything.