Heroin {harry styles}

6

I lazily open my eyes to find the source of the annoying noise. Rolling over to see the digital clock on the nightstand next to me, I fumble around with the buttons for a minute before finally figuring out how to turn the obnoxious beeping off. I didn't set that alarm, which means Harry just gave me one more reason to hate him.

Groaning, I sit up and look around. It takes my brain a minute to process where I am but I soon remember the previous day's events. It's 7:30. Aren't I supposed to do something?

Shoot. Harry said I'm supposed to make him breakfast.

I scramble out of bed and into the closet, praying there are clothes in there. I've been wearing this outfit since I put it on for school yesterday.

I can't believe that not even a whole day ago, I was sitting in class with Sophie, complaining about a test next week. Now I'm in some stranger's house, God knows where, and there's nothing I can do about it.

When I open the closet, I'm met with only a simple light grey t-shirt and a pair of black sweatpants.

I change into the comfy t-shirt, and as I'm about to change my bottoms, I realize I'm missing something. I go back to check the closet again and I'm met with emptiness. I look through the few drawers in the nightstand, but they're also empty and I'm out of places to look.

Guess we're going commando today.

I pull on the sweatpants and manage to find an empty laundry basket on the top shelf of the closer. I have to jump a few times to reach it, but eventually, I grab hold of it. Tossing yesterday's clothes in, I shove it back into the closet and close everything up.

I need to find a bathroom. Shoot, where did Harry tell me the bathroom is?

This house has a million bathrooms, I guess I just need to find one. I tiptoe into the hallway, not wanting to make any noise and possibly run into Harry, and after a few minutes of looking around, I stupidly realize that there's a bathroom right next to my bedroom.

The first thing I notice when I walk in is my hair, which looks utterly horrible. I do my best to fix it with little materials to work with, and thankfully it comes out okay. It definitely doesn't look good, but it's good enough for now.

Luckily I find a toothbrush and toothpaste, both still in the packages, so I can brush my teeth and get out of here.

On my way downstairs, I give myself a little mental pep-talk to prepare for any inevitable encounters with my kidnapper.

"It's 8:03, you're late," his raspy voice drones on the second I step foot in the kitchen. He's sitting on a barstool wearing what I'm assuming is his signature black jeans and a black t-shirt.

"Sorry, I couldn't find the bathroom," I apologized.

"It's right next to your room." He seemed to getting really frustrated.

I shrugged, "I said sorry, it won't happen again."

"Get rid of your fucking attitude," he seethes.

My attitude? Who does this guy think he is?

I put on my best fake smile, "What would you like for breakfast?"

He smirks, obviously enjoying how much I hate him. "Anything, but it better be ready in half an hour since you're already late. I'll be in my office, don't need me."

With that, he leaves and I couldn't be more thankful.

I look through his massive kitchen, trying to find something to make. But I can't cook. My parents never taught me before they died and Sophie doesn't know how either. We always just got takeout or ate what her parents made.

I decide on eggs and toast. Everyone can make eggs and toast. I put the eggs in a pan on the stove and the bread in a toaster. Not even a minute later, the eggs are smoking and they've turned black. I frantically turn off the stove before they catch fire and get the toast onto a plate before that can burn too.

While I'm looking through the refrigerator for something to put on the toast, I hear the dreaded footsteps of Harry coming into the kitchen.

He walks in waving smoke away from his face. I didn't realize it was that bad until now. "Did you burn my fucking kitchen down?"

"Nope, just your eggs," I answered sheepishly.

"Who can't make eggs?" He asks in the most condescending voice.

"Me. If you wanted a chef you should've gotten a real one. I can't cook to save my life."

I can tell he wants to yell at me for that comment, but restraints himself and changes the topic. "We need to go shopping today."

"For what?" I ask curiously. The last thing I want to do is go anywhere with him.

"You need clothes and," he pauses for a second and shudders. "girly things."

I almost crack a smile, but I don't.

Harry finishes eating his toast and I realize I didn't make myself anything, but it's fine. I never eat breakfast.

"Let's go," he says and I jump, the sound startling me.

I throw my shoes on clumsily in a rush and follow Harry out the front door. We get in his nice car and start driving. Is this what being kidnapped is like? I thought I'd be locked in a basement or something.

"What makes you so sure I won't run away if we go out?" I ask curiously.

He smirks in return. "Sweetheart I own the place we're going to. If you leave my sight it'll be locked down in seconds. There's no way for you to escape."

I slump back in my seat at his answer and dare to ask another question.

"What do you do?"

"You're going to have to be more specific than that if you're going to bore me with your dumb questions," he rolls his eyes dramatically.

"Like, your job. You said you own the place we're going to."

"Oh, I'm in a gang," he says nonchalantly.

I should've guessed that.

He's probably going to take me to some creepy drug warehouse. I don't want to go shopping anymore. Actually, I never wanted to go in the first place, but now I especially don't want to go.

After a few more nerve wracking minutes in the car, we finally pull into a parking garage.

At a huge mall.

In London.

And it looks normal.

What?

Why does a gang member own a mall?

a/n
not really happy with this chapter, bit of a filler again, sorry. but it'll get better in the next one