Collide (Impact Book 2) | h.s. | complete

2. Look What You've Done

a/n: Please don't be a ghost reader, it breaks my heart. Vote and comment! It makes me update faster :*

~Harry~

I lay on my back in my massive bed, one hand resting on my chest, the other draped lazily at my side. Despite my calm demeanor, I was anxious inside. I glanced sideways, checking the clock at my bedside. 11:43 pm. A foreign hand crept up my stomach, resting just below my own, below the two sparrows and I rolled my eyes. Kendall. I had practically forgotten she was there. I looked down and our eyes met for a moment. Her lips were around me and I watched as her head bobbed once more before I sat up and pushed her off of me, pulling myself out of her mouth.

"What's wrong?" She asked, her bottom lip pressed out in a pout. I rolled my eyes again and returned my gaze to the ceiling tugging my boxers up to cover myself, my face blank, emotionless.

"You can show yourself out." I felt the bed rustle as she got up, pulled one of my t-shirts over her head and bent to lift her bra from the ground, then stuffed it in her massive purse.

"You can't keep calling me, then sending me home when I haven't done anything wrong." She whined, standing at the end of the bed in nothing but my shirt and a pair of flip-flops.

"Would you rather me not call at all?" I asked, turning over and grabbing my phone from the bedside table. I unlocked it, checking for new messages, but my inbox was empty.

"You know that's not what I want." She said, dropping her bag and crawling back up onto the bed. "What did I do wrong?"

"You're not her." I muttered and Kendall's gaze lowered. She stood, lifting her bag again and made her way towards the door.

"I could give you everything if you'd just let me, but you're so hung up on the whore that ran off with her ex-boyfriend-"

"Get out."

"She abandoned you and broke your heart and you're still defending her-" Kendall yelled, but stopped mid sentence, crossing her arms. "Unbelievable."

"Get the fuck out." I yelled, lifting a glass of water from the bedside table and whipping it across the room. It narrowly missed the tall, thin brunette and smashed against the wall just to the left of her head. She jumped, then stared at me in digust before turning and sprinting out the door. Louis appeared seconds later, watching her run down the hall before stepping into my room.

"That's the fourth one this week, why don't we go to Target and pick up some plastic ones." He said, crouching to pick up the larger pieces of glass.

"Shut the fuck up." I said, my tone as unfriendly as possible, but that's just how I felt. Cold, unfriendly, alone...it had been a week since I had discovered that Tori was gone and my entire existence felt unnessecary. I had missed interviews, appearances and photo shoots and nobody bothered me. They didn't want me there because I was the shell of my former self; there was no substance, and no light. When the boys went to sit outside by the pool to write, they seldom invited me anymore because they knew I would decline. Not only did I not want to look any of them in the eyes and admit that I needed help, but I couldn't even begin to write how I felt on paper.

"Broken hearts write some of the best songs." Louis said, breaking me out of my thoughts as if he had read them. He left mometarily, returning with a white bound leather notebook and a pen.

"That's..."

"I know, it's hers, it's the only thing she left behind in her room here." He said, placing it on the bed beside me.

"I don't fucking want that..." I said, sitting up and physically leaning away from it as if he were dangerous. I resting my aching head in my hand.

"Flip to the last page, she started something that has a lot of potential, but I think you need to finish it..." He said as he left the room. I stared at the book for a moment before glancing at the door. I got up and closed it, returning to the bed and opening the book.

Written in Tori's neat handwriting were hundreds of song ideas and sets of lyrics, all of them incredible. I slid my finger over the black ink and watched as a tear tumbled from my cheek and stained the page smudging the ink. I flipped through, finially coming to rest on the last page. Only a few lines were placed on the page, the corner of which was tucked down, marking the page and a small star was drawn in the opposite corner.

Who's that shadow holding me hostage

I've been here for days

Who's this whisper telling me that I'm never gonna get away

I know they'll be coming to find me soon

But I fear I'm getting used to

Being held by you.

Below the writing was a bunch of singular words, scribbled across the page, then crossed out. Near the bottom, circled three times, Tori's neat handwriting spelled "Stockholm Syndrome." I looked up at myself in the mirror across the room for a moment before rushing to my bed and lifting the pen. I sat, thought for a moment, gazing aimlessly at the wall, pulling my lips between my teeth. Then I began to write and I didn't stop until the light of morning broke through my blinds.