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Confession #3

I hate when teachers touch me. Like back dat ass up boaa. I don't know you like that. Now I gotta take another shower when I get home >_< Making me feel uncomfortable

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Your POV


I slid under the covers planning on heading to bed early. I know it’s only ten thirty and I was supposed to meet Harry, but something didn’t feel right, and I wasn’t in the mood to fight with Harry tonight. Lately that’s all we seem to do. I reached over and checked my phone to see if he had tried to call me, but there were no new messages. I slipped my phone on the charger turning on the news to settle me down for bed. 

Here I stand near the crime scene of a crime that took place earlier tonight. 

Why does that street look so familiar?

The victim 21 year old Harry Styles was shot three times to the head, and the murderer is still on the loose. Our hearts go out to the family—

“What,” I yelled cutting off the TV abruptly. There is no way that could be Harry. How dare they try and tell me he’s gone. I know he’s not gone. 

I snatched my phone off the charger rapidly dialling his number. Straight to voicemail. I tried again, but still no answer. I slipped on my coat and shoes not even bothering to change out of my pajamas.

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I pulled up in front of the yellow tape studying the cops in front of me heavy in their work. “What’s going on,” I asked stepping out my car referring to the nearest cop. “Why is there tap in front of my boyfriend’s house?”

He seemed shocked that I was asking this question. “Ma’am this is a crime scene,” he explained. “Your boyfriend has been murdered.”

A million thoughts were rushing through my head. How could he leave me without even saying goodbye? How could he leave me when there is still so much to say? He wouldn’t have left me this way. “No,” I whispered his death still sinking in. “You must have gotten it wrong.”

“I’m sorry ma’am,” he replied, but that didn’t make me feel better. I watched as he turned away from me slipping behind the yellow tape.

I let my mind slip. I was watching, but I wasn’t really seeing. I replayed our last conversation. It seems so long ago. How we fought over the stupidest thing, saying mean things to each other that if I could take back I would. Every last angry word. I would take it all back.

I had to see him. I had to make this right. I sprinted bursting through the yellow tape not caring that cops were yelling at me. Then I saw him. “No,” I whispered kneeling down next to him. I ran my fingers through his hair not caring that I was getting blood on me. 

“Ma’am you are going to have to leave,” a cop was yelling at me snatching me by the arm pulling me away from his lifeless body. Tears began streaming down my face as I glanced one last time at Harry. 

I watched helplessly as they carried his body away. “Please, please,” I sobbed grabbing onto the cop. “Don’t let them take him away.”

“I’m sorry Ma’am,” the cop replied trying to slip out of my grasp.

“But he didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

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