RED ROOM [H.S]

49.

1 month later

"Who would of thought I would be helping you out, aye Stripper? How times have changed."

I didn't bother looking over at the cheeky smirk Niall was wearing, instead, my eyes were scanning over my suitcase and small duffel bag, trying to remember if I packed everything. Not that there was a lot for me to take anyway, but I didn't want to leave any traces of myself in Las Vegas, I didn't want to leave anything that could be used to find me.

Business people and tourists floated around us, brushing past us on their own little journeys. If only they knew about the terror that was hidden deep within my eyes, the now permanent anxiety in my bones about being found.

The game of hide and seek between Harry and I was now alive and brewing. Every second longer I sat in this airport, was another second closer to Harry finding me, and it made the ever growing anxiety bubble in my stomach, making me cast a worried glance over my shoulder every second I got.

I didn't want to be found. Not now, not ever. Though my heart ached with the thoughts of what could happen to Harry, I knew it was best that my departure was quiet and abrupt, going as far as I could and putting as many miles as I could between us.

Harry had been quiet since I had left the hospital, and despite his word of leaving me until I was healed, I hadn't heard a single word from him. It was strange, and if it was any other circumstance, I would assume he was dead - but Niall had assured me the curly headed man was still alive, maybe not well, but he was definitely alive.

Niall had snuck into my hospital room the same night Harry had visited, though he wasn't as quiet. He was loud and crazed as he stumbled through the room. His eyes had been blown, high of whatever he had snorted that night, though there was no hiding the panic in his voice as he stared at my bruised body.

Lord knows when he decided to grow a heart and start worrying about my safety, but I still thank my lucky stars for that moment. Niall had decided in that moment, with or without my consent, he was shipping me off as far as he could.

It was safe to say, even though he would forever deny it, that Niall was worried for both my safety and for Harry's mental state after what had happened after Bill. He had said something about an ongoing investigation being conducted, and he knew if we weren't careful, too many fingers were going to be pointed in our direction.

The News had carried multiple versions of the story of what happened that night, stating that Bill's body had yet to be discovered, but there was more than enough evidence that something brutal had happened to the officer. I hadn't asked any questions to Niall, because the mere thought of blood of Harry's hands was enough to keep me up at night, making me think of all the things that man was capable of. It sent a shutter down my spine and a nauseous feeling to erupt in my stomach.

Maybe I wasn't cut out for this world, despite how badly everyone wanted me to be. They had all been wrong. I wasn't like them, I didn't have that crazed look in my eye like Harry - I wasn't suppose to be like them.

It saddened me, knowing that the soft Harry I grew to care about, wasn't actually there. I felt like it was a figment of my imagination, and for that, it felt as if my heart was bruised. I wanted to love him, I wanted to remind him that things were going to be okay and the voices would disappear but in actual fact, I wasn't his savour.

I couldn't be.

I couldn't allow that responsibility to be on my shoulders, not after everything I had gone through. I wasn't someone that should have that responsibility of making sure another persons mental state stayed in tact. It was something Harry had to do on his own. Something Harry had to be the keeper of, not me.