room 426 >> h.s

7 {thepast}

Harry's pov:

Sebastian and I walked down the street, laughing our asses off. "Dude, did you see the look on her f-face." I stated, chuckling. We were running away from Mrs. Winters, our old neighbour. We just spray painted her car with the words "I'm A Boss Ass Bitch" written on the back of it.

Bash laughed lowly, but it seemed as if it was a fake laugh. "Yeah, hilarious." I shot him a confused look. What was that about? I shook my head, getting rid of that thought. "Hey, you want some?" Bash opened a beer bottle that we got from a grocery shop before we went to Mrs. Winters'. "Sure." I took the bottle from his hands, taking a long sip.

After about 30 minutes, I was shitfaced. Bash carried me up the stairs to his room. Well, not really his room, It's actually a hotel room. Room 426. It was away from all the other rooms, which is good if you want some privacy.

Bash's pov:

I looked over at Harry. He was totally drunk. The reason I gave him all the beer bottles was because I wanted to kill him. Yes, I, Sebastian Winfeilds, wanted to kill his best friend, Harry Styles. Well, not really best friend, more like a fake friend. He is the kind of friend that you can't really tell if he really likes you, or you're just a playtoy to him.

You see, ever since middle school, Harry had been picking on me. Like, the first time we actually met, which was in 7th grade, he spotted me sitting alone, so he came up to me and the first words he said were;

"Hey loner, why sitting alone?" I just stared at him in shock. "I-I'm new." I stuttered. "What's your name." He is very blunt about this! "Sebastian." I answered, feeling more confident. "Wow, a loner with a disgusting name. Perfect." He laughed. "Come on, you'll be my sidekick from now, until the day i die.

He said till the day he dies, the day has come. I looked over at harry, only to find him talking to his toes. Wow.

I went to the kitchen, taking out the knife. The knife I'm going to kill Harry Edward Styles with.

I walked back to find him now arguing with his toes. What?

"Harry, what are you doing?" I asked, fake chuckling, hiding the knife behind my back. "Well, my leg fingers are always fighting?!" He exclaimed, as if its a big deal. "Don't you mean, toes?" I asked, letting out a small laugh. "No! My toes are very nice to each other!" He held his hands up, wiggling his fingers. Okay, that boy is psychotic.

"Harry, come here." I sat down on the couch and patted the empty space next to me, signaling him to take it. He crawled over to me and then got up, sitting on the couch. "What's wrong Will Smith?" He slurred. I put my palm on my forehead, shaking my head.

"Take your shirt off." I ordered, and strangely, he obeyed, throwing his shirt on the floor. I looked at the tee shirt, making a mental note to burn it after I'm done.

I laid him down on his back and ordered him to close his eyes. After checking that they are actually closed, I take out the knife. I look over at him. "Sebastian, what are you doin'?" He asked smiling . I quickly stab him in the stomach, the action making him open his eyes wide, gasp, and hold on to my arm.

"That's what you fucking get-" I pressed the knife harder. "- for treating me like a fucking slave-" I took the knife out slowly until only the tip of it is still inside. I lent down and whispered in his ear. "-since day fucking one." I pressed the knife back in, harder this time and twisted it. I kept the knife firmly inside of him. "I, am no longer, your sidekick."

After a few moments, full of blood and tears, I take the knife out, throwing it to the ground. I hugged harry close, whispering in his ear. "Shh, It's okay. Just a few more seconds. Come on, let go. You can let go." Just like I said, After a few seconds, his eyes drooped shut, and his body went limp against mine.

Perfect.

"I like you much better like this, all pale and, dead." I smirk, throwing his body to the ground. "Now where do I hide this thing?" I ask myself. I look around the room, until I find a small, almost hidden cabinet at the end of the room.

"Come on." I groan, holding him up by his armpits, dragging him across the room. After he is hidden, I burned Harry's shirt, threw the knife away, and made sure every stain of blood is gone from the couch.

No one should enter this room, ever. Maybe they are curious enough to explore the room and they may find Harry. And the only way to keep them away from this room, is to work in this hotel. And if anyone asks, I will tell them Harry is on a teenage getaway.

Harry's pov:

I opened my eyes only to see a white light. "What?" I muttered to myself, rubbing my stomach. "Harry. I dont wanna give you a long speech, so let's get right to the point. You're dead, your best friend killed you." I heard a woman's voice say. Dead? Best friend killed me? What?

"Let me show you." She said and suddenly I was back at the hotel room. Room 426.

After seeing my whole death scene, I got angry. I want revenge. "Are you okay?" She asks, but I still can't see her. "How are you feeling?"

You would expect me to be hurt, mad, sad, broken. But I'm not. I'm just betrayed. So fucking betrayed. And I want revenge. I will give him a taste of his own fucking, bitter medicine. I won't cry, no. I won't shed a single, fucking tear. I won't give him the pleasure of my pain. I won't. I fucking won't.