Don't Stay Where You Don't Belong (Harry Styles Fan Fiction)

Chapter 11 - If We Could Only Turn Back Time

Chapter 11 - If We Could Only Turn Back Time

Harry

My eyes were starting to see things that weren´t there from how long I´ve been on the streets looking. I´ve been driving for about seven hours straight, slowly of course to make sure I´d get a good look around. This obviously ticked people off on the busy streets of London, apparently Saturday is a popular day to go out for a drive. But I don´t care, my priority wasn´t to reach a destination, it was to search every street, every sidewalk, stop when I see anyone who resembles Grace. These acts were frowned upon by the drivers on the road, making me receive many drivers flipping me off and honking, but I don´t care. This is much more important than them. Finding Grace is much more important. She had to be somewhere, there´s only so far she can go on foot, right? I hope so. 

The night had fallen upon the big city, making the bright lights pop as they always do at night. But they seemed dull to me, everything seemed dull to me right now. My stomach was in a knot, my eyes burning from how much strain I put on them today, and my heart heavy. I pulled into the parking garage provided for those living in my apartment building. I put my head on the steering wheel, shaking my head. I don´t even know how to feel anymore. I mean, I´m just.. this is all my fault. I made her run away, I pushed Grace away because of my stupid drunken emotions that escaped me yesterday. The worst of it all is that all those things I said weren´t true, far from it. These past few weeks I remember staying up with her at night, her telling me about how she ran away from home because she didn´t feel like she belonged there. That´s horrible. That´s absolutely terrible, and I swore to her that I´d make her feel belonged. That I´m here for her, and then I go and get jealous from her just hugging someone. Thinking back it wasn´t anything, she was drunk and a little giddy, but I guess drunk Harry didn´t think it wasn´t anything all that bad. I sighed, moving my head from the steering wheel to lean it back against the leather headrest. I lost her. She´s no where to be found and I physically and literally lost her. I won´t be able to forgive myself for this one. No. For the first time, the other person wasn´t the one who hurt me. Getting close to Grace was a blessing, knowing her was amazing. Here I was afraid of opening up to her, selfishly thinking I´d be the one getting hurt. But no, I´m the reason I´m hurt. Me and me only. 

I drag myself out of my car and through the door that lead to the hallway. I stopped and looked around the small aisle, to where Grace and I had stood only about a month ago. Her back leaned up against the gold wallpaper, looking up at me with those beautiful big eyes of hers. She was so shaken up that day, and I don´t blame her. Who woudln´t be after being almost physically harassed by some random hobo? I thank God everyday that I was there to save her from him. Funny thing is that I was wishing that I´d run into her again that night, but I guess that´s why they say be careful what you wish for. That´s not exactly how I wanted to find her; on the floor, hysterical, desperately trying to escape from a disgusting older man. I remember picking her up, quickly reacting to how he cooed out at her, something along the words of ¨Come back here, little girl.¨ I get the chills just thinking of the tone he said it in. 

I´ve never been a brilliant athlete or any sort of track star, but that night my instincts stepped in. I picked her up so swiftly, she was rather light actually. Not that I was surprised, I mean she´s like a stick, so thin. Somewhere along the way I knew we had lost the old man, because I couldn´t hear him call out to us from behind, but I kept running until we got back to our, or really, to my apartment building. Grace´s eyes were wide with fear and confusion. From her disheveled look, I could tell she hadn´t had a proper nights sleep or a shower, even though I smelled some sort of perfume trying to conceal this. Right then I pieced it together, remembering the week earlier when she couldn´t ¨remember¨ the name of her hotel, but she knew where it was. No tourist in their right mind would go to the that part of London where she had been to find a type of guy like that hobo that practically raped her. It was obvious she wasn´t staying in a hotel, she wasn´t staying anywhere. She was just there, roaming the streets.