Rupture // h.s au

9. "And try not to fall for the prisoner."

Harry

I paced the floor of the observation room, where I had found Zayn, as soon as I ran out of the interrogation room.

" It's okay, mate,"

" No, Zayn, fuck, I lost it. I let her get in my head, and I- God, she's infuriating." I ran a hand through my hair, pulling at the roots slightly, removing the bandana.

" It's okay, Harry-"

" Jesus, would you stop saying that?" I challengingly brought my eyes to his widened ones, as he lifted his hands in the air in surrender.

" Dammit, I didn't mean to lose it like that." I whispered, releasing an exhausted sigh.

" It's alright, Styles, I'll live." Zayn had a shadow of a smirk forming on his lips, as he sat himself down on a metal table.

" What do I do with her?" I turned around, watching her firm figure through the glass window. She sat there, unfazed by the chains holding her down, unafraid of all the torturing instruments surrounding her, not intimidated by us at all, which was incredibly degrading.

" You can let me handle it. My techniques might tire her down, at least." She had her lips pursed in thought, her eyebrows furrowed, so sternly, that the layers between them seemed to be unable to relax back to their natural position. She shook her head slightly, bending to the side, and spitting out what seemed to be blood.

" I'm not letting you torture her to death, Zayn." I blankly replied, my eyes remaining on her. She rested her head backwards, closing her eyes for a moment or two, her chest moving slowly with her steady breathing, her bare neck slightly sweaty, causing it to glow beneath the poorly functioning lights. I was suddenly grateful that she was unable to see me, watching her.

" Yeah, whatever." I heard Zayn's fading voice replying, but honestly, I was sinking into that captivating sight of her. She slowly tilted her head forward, before bringing her silent eyes, directing them into mine. I looked upon the glass window, certain that there was no way in hell she could see me. She just knew I was there, knew I would be watching, and that was exactly the message she was trying to deliver to me. My feet led me back into the interrogation room, closing the door behind me, before turning towards her. I noticed a heavy layer of sweat forming on her paling forehead, color slowly fading from her soft skin, her lips dry, cracked at certain places.

" You look like shit." I breathed, my eyebrows furrowed in concentration. A humorless laugh went past her lips, causing her to bend over in a dreadful coughing fit, before she spat blood again.

" Are you injured?" My eyes widened in fear.

" Oh please don't act like you give a shit."

" Are you injured?" I repeated, my eyes scanning over all the bare skin they could reach, unable to detect the reason behind her obvious illness.

" I know what you're doing, and it isn't going to work. I know what you do, and I know how you do it." My frantic hands started their aggressive search for the source of her bleeding, ignoring her ignorant statements, but noticing her weakened voice.

" Goddammit, where is it?" I hissed under my breath.

" You play that role, of someone who actually has a heart, who cares, and the person in front of you lets their guards down, and that's when you pounce. You're smart, Styles, but, not smart enough to trick someone who knows your true colors."

" You don't know shit." I nonchalantly replied, before pulling her shirt up, revealing an enormous wound, that covered the length of her entire stomach. It was barely bleeding, but it looked all wrong, like it was infected.