Murphy's Law ✔️

Chapter Seven.

March, 2020.

Murphy, for once in her adulthood, knew who to call.

It wasn't rare that she ended up in these situations, but she knew now that it wasn't right for this to be a common occurrence. She could barely walk, really- her ankle swollen to the point that it looked like a purple tennis ball and her knees dripping blood, yet again, onto her favorite pair of old jeans. She sat on the park bench shivering and trying her best not to move the injured leg, biting back tears as she kept her extremity elevated as to relieved pressure.

She knew she shouldn't have said no.

It's just that, well, she really didn't want to do what the man was asking her to do. It was too far- she had always agreed on terms and conditions with a client before meeting them in their home. The man seemed normal enough and she was confident that it would be a quick job and she would be on her way back to the apartment and to Zayn in no time. But alas, Murphy's luck was running short and the client's patience was running thin.

In the heat of the moment, he attempted to go a little further. She laughed a bit at him, keeping it professional, and told him sternly that she'd prefer not to. It turned into a conversation which turned into an argument which eventually led Murphy to feel unsafe and so, she got dressed and made her way to the door, even assuring him that he didn't have to pay for her time. In a rush of anger, the man shoved her from behind, leading her to tumble down the stairs and somehow land on her ankle in just the right spot to where she felt it twist painfully. The rug of the carpet snagged her already scabbed knees which in turn caused them to rip back open and leak blood onto her jeans.

She couldn't walk all the way back home- she tried, really, and made it two blocks before she couldn't stand on her ankle any longer, leading her to find a bench and sit to inspect it. It had swollen in size and already turned purple, and Murphy knew then that she was fucked.

Zayn was asleep. She'd tried ringing him three times and he didn't answer, and she was stranded. Thankfully, she had Harry's name plugged into her phone and so, without hesitation, she called the number with her eyes shut and her entire leg throbbing.

"Murph? You alright?" He didn't even say hello, he must've known something was wrong for her to call after 2am. She could hear chatter in the background and immediately felt guilty.

"Um, kinda," she sighed, licking her lips. Opening her eyes, she cleared her throat. "Honestly, no, not exactly."

Harry covered his other ear with his fingers and made his way out of the pub and away from the noise, frowning. "What's wrong? Where are you?"

Murphy turned her head and glanced at the street sign. "I'm on Willow street sitting on a bench, I can't really walk."

"I'm on my way."

"Wait, Ha-" the line went dead then and she sighed again, shaking her head. Silence filled the air as she took deep breaths, the sound of the wind blowing through the trees being her only sense of comfort as she waited.

*

"Oh, god, I'm so excited to meet her!" Niall slurred from the passenger seat of the car, grinning giddily and bouncing his knees.

Harry rolled his eyes. "You need to leave her alone, alright? I love you, mate- I really do- just... Keep your voice down and don't make me look like an idiot," he scolded.

Harry really didn't want to bring Niall along with him but the poor, drunken bastard had no means of getting home that night and had planned to crash at Harry's anyways. Harry was deemed the designated driver for the evening and Niall did everything in his power to ensure that he was absolutely obliterated, it seemed. Harry didn't have the ability to count how many drinks and tokes of spliff Niall had but his cheeks were red and he was barely speaking English, so, you know. He was fucked up.