Yours truly, Harry

Chapter 3

When I finally slip back into consciousness, there are no sounds of birds like you would imagine, of. Purse there never are in New York. The morning is filled with sounds of engines starting and car horns blaring. But something is different today. The sounds are fainter, like someone was having a party in the house over and you could hear the music faintly. Although the sounds were more faint than usual, it was oddly comforting.

My eyes open immediately when I realize there is absolutely nothing comfortable about Dylan's apartment. I must be somewhere else.

The first thing I see when my eyes open is a plain navy blue wall, as I am laying on my side like always. As I look around a little bit without moving I also notice a wooden bedside table and a wooden dresser.

I sit up slowly and continue to look around. The room is clean and pretty plain, unlike the bedroom at the apartment. The duvet layed over me is plain white and cozy.

Slowly I start to remember the events last night and I shudder, biting my lip. Yes, whoever had taken me away from them had stopped them from doing anything unspeakable to me, but not from them touching me. As tears fill my eyes, I push away the thoughts, not wanting to start crying in this mystery place. Slowly I pull the duvet off me and start to stand up.

Pain immediately hits me everywhere. My side and head ache as I stand, and I nearly cry out from the pain in my wrist that is sure to be broken after Dylan.

I walk over to a large mirror on the wall slowly, pain hitting me with each step. I cringe at my appearance when I arrive in front of the mirror. My sweatshirt has been put back on me and my jeans were still on me. I feel a but embarrassed as I realize whoever saved me also saw me half naked.

My blonde hair is messy and knotted and and my eyes have circles under them. There are some blotches of makeup under my eyes, but not many, indicating someone must have wiped it from under my eyes. I lift up my sweatshirt, revealing a series of black and blue bruises along my side , on my stomach, anywhere you could imagine. I pull up the sleeve of my sweater and stare down at my wrist. It is swollen and when I touch it I immediately pull away from pain.

As I stare at my reflection, I become aware of the clinking sounds of plates and silverware on the other side of the walls. I furrow my eyebrows and walk to the door, opening it slightly and looking out of the room.

A hall is right in front of me with a door on the end. The walls are identical to the walls of the bedroom and lights hang from the ceiling in a chandelier-like way.

I walk down the hall to the door and open it. The smell of pastries hit me, and I am immediately reminded if the cozy bakery and how much I wish I was there right now.

The room in front if me seems to be a living room, as a leather couch, two chairs, a television, and a large coffee table. I expected the walls to be the same color as the hall and bedroom, but they were a yellow color instead. This makes me raise my eyebrows in surprise. Pretty odd if you ask me. There's blankets and a pillow on the leather couch, and I sigh put of relief when I realize who ever'a house this is must be crashing on the couch and not next to me.

To the right of the living room is the a white door, which I assume leads to the kitchen. I open the white door and walk in.

Familiar curly brown hair is the first thing is see. My mouth drops slightly as I watch him setting pastries and eggs on a plate.

"Harry?" I say softly, and he immediately turns around, a fork he was about to set down still in his hand. He is wearing black jeans and a plain white shirt, not forgetting the beanie he was wearing yesterday, or however many days ago I saw him last. He looks at me for a moment, almost as if he forgot he had brought me here. He blinks his eyes then cracks a such a small smile I'm not sure if he was even trying to smile.