Criminal

Chapter Twelve

There was an obnoxious ringing, and I felt like I was in a time warp because every single time I came to, it was there again. 

I was pleasantly warm and comfortable, except for my legs, which felt like they'd had their circulation cut off. I tried to move them a little just to get comfortable, but there was a heavy weight holding them down. When I went to move them forward, there was a grunt of protest behind me. 

That woke me up even more than the shrill ring of what I could just make out to be a phone. I went to sit up, only to discover that there was an arm anchoring me into the bed. A tattooed arm. 

"Turn it off," A deep voice mumbled into the back of my neck, and I almost stopped breathing. Harry was cuddling me in bed, and he wasn't letting me get up. 

"Let me go, Harry," I whispered, but he just let out a deep breath before falling back asleep. The ringing ended just then, and I allowed myself to relax for another time into Harry. As I moved my neck to try and escape his breaths tickling my ear, I found that I was sore and achey from sleeping for a long time. 

I tried to ignore it and fall back into sleep, because Harry seemed to have no problem at all snoring behind me. But then I was starting to get too hot because he was a furnace under the sheets, and I couldn't stand it any longer. 

I wiggled out of his grasp as softly as I could, hoping that I wouldn't wake him. I successfully pulled away from Harry's warm body and sat up in bed, my head swimming as I pushed my hair out of my face. 

I checked the clock to see that it was only twelve in the afternoon, and Harry was still sound asleep. I knew he was tired so I decided to let him sleep in, becuase I had never been around when he'd slept more than five hours, and after last night, he seemed like he needed it. 

When I looked back at him, his arms were stretched out where I'd been before and he was curled on his side, the white sheets drawn up to his chest. HIs pink lips were parted as he snored into the pillow, dark curls fanned out above him, stark against the ivory pillowcase. 

He looked a lot less angry when he was asleep. When he wasn't concentrated on anything or under any stress. He looked young. He was cute. Besides the blooming purple and green bruises littered over his face. 

I pushed myself up off the bed and quietly tip-toed to the dresser, pulling out a pair of sweatpants. I'd neglected to grab any of mine from the apartment--and some of them had been destroyed--so I had to settle for a pair of Harry's that were eight miles too long. 

I tied the strings as tight as I could so they wouldn't fall off my waist, and then I grabbed a hairbow to tie my rats nest of hair up. I decided that I was hungry so I made my way quietly out of the bedroom and shut the door softly, Harry still sleeping on the bed. 

I made myself a cup of tea and some lunch and sat on the couch with the television on low, reflecting over the night. I knew that at this point there was no going back, and I thought of Eleanor's words, and how it applied to everything and everyone. 

I had to accept everything for the sake of myself. If I fought against it, I would make myself and everyone around me miserable. I was starting to grow closer to Eleanor and Sophia and Louis, and I knew that if I refused to accept Harry and his...occupation, I'd lose the life I'd finally gained some control over. 

I sipped from my cup and tucked my legs underneath me on the sofa, looking out over the city. It was busy as it ever was on a Tuesday, with people milling around on the streets below and in the offices of the skyscrapers. I breifly wondered what that was like, but then my phone was ringing beside me on the cushion.

I didn't check the screen before I answered, which was probably a bad idea. I wanted to throw it across the room as soon as her voice rang through the speaker.