Heroin {harry styles}

28

"H-how much of that did you hear?" I ask nervously, with Harry's intimidating emerald eyes boring into mine.

Even glazed over with something I can't quite put my finger on, not all the way present, his intense eyes still manage to have an effect on me.

"Enough to know how you really feel about me," Harry scoffs, slurring his words and swaying back and forth a little in the doorway.

I'm about to get even more upset but Niall speaks up before I can say or think anything else about it.

"Mate, whose blood is that?"

"I don't really remember her name," he shrugs and starts to giggle maniacally before thinking to himself. "Some hooker. Maybe like Candice? Candy? Could've been Angel? Or even Diamond?"

Niall shoots Harry a glare and he quickly shakes his head and stops playing the guessing game, getting back on topic. "Anyways. We had fun for a few minutes but she wanted to cuddle afterwards. I was done with her. I told her I don't do that shit but she didn't want to listen."

My face pales, I can't believe him.
I didn't think Harry would go so low as to pay someone to have sex with him.

Just when I think I couldn't get any more disgusted with him, he looks right at me. "Layla, make sure I didn't drip any blood on the floors and clean it up if I did."

He.

Did.

Not.

Just ask me to clean up hooker blood that he tracked in the house.

Harry smirks coldly at Niall as we both just stand there in shock. "Be upstairs in two minutes. We need to talk business," Harry says to him before staggering out of the kitchen, leaving a bloody handprint on the white wall.

I look at Niall and close my mouth, realizing it must have fell open in shock.

"Case in point," Niall says to me. "Don't expect one or two nice things to mean that Harry's changed. For God's sake, the man got drunk, probably high too, fucked a prostitute, and then killed said prostitute."

He gives me a sad smile before leaving the kitchen to follow Harry.

I guess Niall was right.

Even as Niall was telling me that Harry could never be a good guy, I still held out some hope that maybe I could prove him wrong.

But Harry ended up proving me wrong first.

I state in horror at the handprint on the wall for a minute, debating if I'm going to clean it or not. I decide rather quickly that I'd rather take whatever punishment Harry throws my way than try to clean that thing. It probably won't come off the white paint anyways.

Reluctantly, I walk out to the front door to see if Harry tracked any more blood in. Much to my dismay, there are a few drops on the floor and the couch.

If there's anything I can't deal with, it's blood.

Quickly running out to the kitchen, I grab almost an entire roll of paper towels, balling up huge amounts and tossing them on top of any drops of blood I see.

That's good enough.

With nothing else to do, I start heading upstairs to see if I can take a nap or something.

The boredom that comes with being stuck in Harry's house might even be worse than his mood swings sometimes.

I'm almost at the top of the stairs when I pass Niall.

"Bye Layla," he says quickly, looking down at the ground to hide his face.

But I don't catch the black eye and the trickle of blood flowing steadily out of his left nostril.

When I reach my room, my hopes of a small nap are crushed because Harry's standing outside of my door with his arms crossed.

He must have changed clothes and cleaned up a bit, because he's no longer coated in blood. But he's still wearing the same black t-shirt and black skinny jeans as always.

I look into his eyes and he definitely looks sobered up now too. Maybe hitting Niall a few times really did the trick.

"Don't ever speak about be behind my back again. Ever." He demands harshly.

"I-I won't."

"Oh you won't?" He laughs humorlessly. "You won't?"

"I won't," I repeat, my voice wavering.

"You said you wouldn't disobey me anymore either. You said it a hundred fucking times. And you still did. I even locked you in a basement for an entire goddamned day! And you still fucking did!" He yells furiously, sucking in a breath of air. "You know what Layla Summers? Since you've continued to lie to me, time and time again, I don't believe you this time."

I don't know what to say. What am I supposed to say?

For some reason, I'm hurt that he doesn't believe me.

It felt like we were sort of getting somewhere for a little bit. Until this whole thing today, at least.

I wasn't happy, but I wasn't as miserable as when I first got here.

Before I could even think of a response, I felt my lip quivering. A lump started rising in my throat and then the floodgates opened out of nowhere.

I was crying hysterically and my very first instinct was to wrap my arms around Harry.

For a second, he did nothing. He just left me standing there with my arms around him.

But only for a second. He takes a deep breath before speaking more calmly.

"Not this time, Layla. I don't do this."

Harry peels my arms off of his waist and walks away without a glance at me.

How could this happen?

I back up until I hit the wall before sliding down it so I'm sitting. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I hug them and cry to myself with my head down.

Not even twelve hours ago I was sitting in this exact spot.

In this exact position.

With Harry by my side.

Holding my hand.

But it all came crashing down just like that.