Found (Sequal to Hidden)

Irresistable

--- Harry's Point of View ---

"Harry, where do you think you're going?" Paul places a hand on my shoulder as soon as I step off the elevator.

"M'hungry." I mumble pointing in the direction of the hotel's restaurant.

"Why didn't you just order in? How many times do I have to tell you not to wander around? This isn't like back home or the US. I know you're well aware of the death threats against you and the rest of the boys from the drug cartel."

"Lay off. I wasn't going to leave the damn building and I know about the threats." I shrug Paul's hand off my shoulder and storm off away from him.

As I walk away I know that without turing around Paul is watching and shaking his fuckin head. It's all he seems to do when I'm around these days. In fact nearly that's all everyone does now.

Ever since Abigail died everything's changed. It seems overdramatic to say that my life's been a little duller without here. But, in truth it is. The same things that I used to love don't even make me happy anymore. The concerts have gotten old, the fans are annoying as hell, and all the media ever did anymore was spread bullshit rumors.

I look back over my shoulder to check if Paul is still watching me before turning right, away from the restaurant at the end of the hall. I pull my hood up as I exit the hotel through the back door and make the short walk down an alley. Finding a dealer in Brazil was easy enough considering a large drug cartel had control of an area just a few miles from the hotel and my usual source was grew up in the area.

"Still can't believe you're a client of Miguel's." A voice speaks accompanied by a laugh from within the shadows.

"Shut the fuck up." I spit back. I don't have time for this asshole's jokes about how one of the members of the world's biggest boy band is a druggie. Miguel already gave me enough shit for it.

I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket and dig it out while holding up my other hand to silence Miguel's friend before he can open his mouth again. I briefly glance at the caller ID that flashes brightly on the screen accompanied by a picture of Zayn and I from awhile back.

"What?" I snap. Annoyed that I would have to wait any longer before I could get more cocaine into my system to dull the ever present ache.

"Where you at, Mate? Paul said you were in the hotel restaurant, but there's nobody here. You sneak out?" Even after knowing him for four years I still have to listen carefully to pick up what Zayn's thick accent is trying to convey.

"Yeah, I needed a smoke. I'll be back in a few." I hold my mobile against my ear with my shoulder and reach back into my pocket to draw my wallet out.

"Just a smoke?" Zayn questions as I hand the boy before me a few hundreds in return for a few small baggies of white powder. "Harry, you could have just of told him that. He wouldn't mind sending a bodyguard out with you if he knew that."

"I know that." I murmur and watch as the boy sprints off into the night. "I'll be back in a few."

"Then why didn't you just tell him? Are you really out for a smoke or-"

"Zayn, just fucking drop it. I said I'll be back in a few." While the others were only slightly suspicious about my whereabouts Zayn took it to a whole other level. Out of the five of us he had always been the most observant and it hadn't surprised me when he confronted me about his suspicions a little while back.

"Alright, Mate. Just be careful okay? The threats have only gotten worse since we got here and we can't risk having to cancel half the tour just because you needed a smoke." If only he knew the same people who were sending the threats were the same ones that had just given me my escape from the real world in the form of little baggies of white powder.

"I'm already on my way back." I say curtly and end the call before Zayn can have the chance to speak further.

The first couple of times that I had met with the dealers carrying the small pouches of whatever drug I was craving felt like a guilty weight in my pocket. Now, it was comforting. With them I was numb to the world in which Abigail didn't exist. Sometimes it's better to forget she ever existed at all then to remember that I was the reason she died.

A few days ago I had gotten a call from some police department back in LA where the Oscar's had been held that they had finally found Abigail's killer. As it turns out some crazed fan had gotten of her meds and somehow snuck into the event to take 'revenge' on the girl who had apparently stolen my love from her. At first I hadn't believed that someone could possibly be so insane as to do such a thing, but after all Abigail and I had been through it didn't seem so far fetched.

About two blocks from the hotel I can see the huge mass of fans gathered around the main entrance. To say it was loud would be an understatement and they weren't even screaming yet. I can hardly imagine how tomorrow will sound. A constant flicker of bright flashes light up the night as fans take photo after photo of the hotel where the boys and I are staying. They're a bit fucking stupid to be taking pictures of the damn building. None of us have rooms on that side of the hotel.

"Harry?" I hear a squeal behind me.

Without looking back I start walking towards the back of the hotel in hopes of not being further recognized.

Amid the fast spoken language I don't know well that follows next I can only make out my name along with mentions of the other boys' names as well. In a matter of seconds screams of my name seem to have attracted nearly all of the fans from outside the hotel to my location. Without bodyguards it's nearly impossible to push through the mob. Cameras and phones are shoved in my face as fans try to take pictures with me. Over the heads of what seems like hundreds of fans I see a flash of dark brown hair and a matching pair of brown eyes watching from a street corner, away from the mob.

"Impossible." I mutter and my voice is lost among the screams.

I change directions and begin walking towards the girl at the corner of the street. As I walk closer I begin to make out her features more clearly and I can now see that it's not her. Of course it isn't. She's dead you fuctard I scold myself. Before I reach the girl I turn abruptly and push back towards the hotel. After having my ass groped and phones shoved in my face constantly I finally make it back into the hotel. Security keeps the girls from entering the building as I push the button to call the elevator down.

Zayn exits his and Liam's shared hotel room just as I step onto our floor. He's on the phone with someone, most likely Perrie, and motions for me to wait before entering my room.

"Hold on Perrie he just came back." Zayn mutes his phone and looks back to me. "Where'd you go?"

"I fucking told you. Out for a smoke." I snap.

"Harry, I know that's bullshit. Don't lie to me."

"It's none of your damn business anyways alright? I had some personal things to take care of. That's all." I slip the keycard to my room out of my pocket and slide it through the lock.

"Harry, I'm just trying to look out for you. Ever since Abby died you've been acting-"

"Zayn, just leave me the fuck alone alright?" At the mention of Abigail's name I snap.

Zayn looks a bit stunned at my outburst, but nods none the less and goes back to his call with his fiancé. Ever since Abigail's death I have been assigned my own room while the other boys split the other two rooms. The privacy is nice especially for nights like now when I needed to get high. I empty my pockets onto the coffee table and then shake out a baggie of cocaine onto the table also. I use a credit card to make thin rows of the white powder and then pull out a small cut straw from my wallet.

"The things I do for you girl." I say and then lean over the table.