Murphy's Law ✔️

Chapter Nine.

Her body, adorned in white crystals and lace, was glimmering under the pink lights backstage. A body shimmer was graciously gifted to her from Kitty, which she generously applied to her arms, legs and chest. Her large, brown eyes were framed with a mixture of black and grey eye shadow- and the look was put together with a bold, bright red lipstick. Looking in the mirror, she was aghast.

Murphy was beautiful, but Angel was otherworldly. She held her shoulders back, her gaze burning into anyone who dare meet it, and her lips pursed with an attractive sort of arrogance. She shook her head and grinned at her reflection.

Trapped.

It was the only term Murphy could use to describe her situation. She felt tied down, held back, caught up in a fucked up world of drugs, non-consensual sex and the biting fear that one day, someone may take it a step to far and finally end her for good. She was never the best at handling authority or rules or being told what to do. She was a rebel at heart, really- always getting in trouble for doing the wrong things at the wrong time and after receiving scoldings, the younger version of herself would shrug, grin and skip off and do exactly the opposite of what she was told. It was who she was, in her heart of hearts.

Murphy was brought back to those memories the night prior, when Zayn had set out takeaway pizza and decided to discuss her options. They were slim, of course, and none of them would come without a price, but it was a risk that they both felt was worth the prize. They spoke openly with each other- Zayn letting her in further on what he felt for her with Murphy listening intently, to which she'd respond with her honest feelings.

She admitted to detesting him at some points- to which he chuckled- and she admitted to feeling as though she'd wasted some of the best years of her life. He, of course, frowned at that, but after putting her feelings into perspective, he couldn't help but agree. He realized he had watched her shrink herself over time. When he met her back when she was only a teenager, he saw a spark in her- and that's what made him so enraptured with her spirit. She was mischievous, free-spirited, unstoppable. He looked at her the night prior and saw the bags under her eyes, the thin figure covered by large clothing (his clothing), and he couldn't help but feel incredibly guilty.

He told her he'd work it out, he'd do everything in his power to relieve her from her current life and set her off into the world, but for the time being, she should do everything she could in order to ensure she had money to support herself. And instead of sending her on the street, he encouraged her to go to the club.

"Where's the Murphy I know and love? Get yourself a sick bodysuit, have Kitty do your make up and go kill it on stage. You know what I mean, babe," he'd told her, handing her cash with a grin. She smiled with tears in her eyes. She wished she was honest with him a long time ago- maybe things would've turned out differently for them.

And then there she was, standing backstage with her hands clenched into fists, taking deep breaths. It'd been a while since she performed on stage, solo, and so the nerves were running rampantly through her body. She could see the lights shut off on the stage, heard the announcement over the speakers, and then finally, she was making her way onto the stage.

*

Harry was piss drunk by 8:30 that night.

To be fair, it'd been a while since he allowed himself to really get wasted, and so, Liam, Niall and himself decided to pregame with tequila shots back at his place and then call a cab to the club. By the time he was under the dark lights and sat in a plush booth in front of the stage, he had forgotten the journey to the club (Niall would remind him another day about how he grabbed Liam's junk, resulting in a swift slap in the face followed by drunken giggles).