Illicit [Harry Styles]

Chapter 7

The next day - Saturday - my dad stopped by again. It turns out it'd slipped my mind to reschedule our lunch and I felt awful about it since there aren't many people who even want to be around him anymore. I wasn't one of those people; I still cared for him despite him leaving us, so I agreed to go back with him to his flat for a takeaway and a movie.

It was a fun evening, but I felt like he always tried too hard when it came to me. He didn't behave the same way he used to when I was a kid and it usually felt just a little uncomfortable as if I was hanging out with someone I didn't know very well. It shouldn't feel like that - he's my dad, and after seventeen years it shouldn't feel like either of us have to act a certain way, it should come naturally and we should feel relaxed around each other but that's just not how it was, and I couldn't help but blame the rest of my family for alienating him like they had.

We ordered Chinese food and sat in front of the TV making idle small talk but before I knew it I was battling my heavy eyelids and sleep was dragging me under.

When I woke I hadn't even realised I'd actually fallen asleep. I couldn't remember the last thing that'd happened before I'd nodded off but the end credits of Spiderman 2 were rolling so I must've been out for at least an hour since I did remember us deciding on the film. The room was nearly pitch black, the only light coming from the titles on the television, and there was a lonely feel to the still room.

I rubbed my eyes with my fists and stood from the armchair, scanning the room drowsily with confusion. That has to be one of the worst and most puzzling feelings that I just can't put into words: falling asleep during a film and waking up to find that it's finished and you're alone. My fuzzy vision was just useful enough to spot a note on the coffee table.

"jessie

something urgent came up and I had to go out - business stuff !! make yourself at home ... or if you want to leave thats ok too but have someone pick you up if its late when you wake up

love you

dad x"

I sighed to myself as I read the note, placing it back down on the surface and massaging my temples. When he's not trying too hard, he's not trying at all. I'm the only one who'll give him the time of day and he leaves as soon as I fall asleep. I mean, come on, business stuff? It's ten at night.

I figured there was no point in being there if my dad wasn't, and despite his request of asking someone to pick me up I decided I'd just walk home. It was only a short minute walk, and besides, who would want to come out this late on a Saturday night to pick me up? I jotted down on the back of the note to let my dad know that I was leaving before grabbing my coat and lazily pulling on my boots.

The bitter September air was sharp on my skin as I began my journey home, I pulled my coat tighter around me and further up my neck to try and keep the cold out as I walked at a speedy pace to try and make it home as quickly as I could. I found myself constantly peeking over each shoulder every ten seconds and my senses were heightened, however I was calm for the first five minutes of the journey. But that was before a dark, shady figure caught my eye.

I glanced back at what looked to be a man much older than me, but the black oversized hoodie he was wearing made it impossible to see his face. Even during the day time I considered everyone a threat, but there was something off about this man that was walking too fast behind me.

I got this feeling, a feeling that kind of felt like regret. A feeling that was merged with panic and the overwhelming desire to run, but I knew that if I started running anything that could already be bad for me would only end up being worse. I knew now that it was too late - I'd made my foolish decision and there was nothing I could do other than keep walking and hope I made it home before anything could happen to me. I tried desperately to convince myself that I was overthinking this like I do most things, but the heavy thump of my heart begged to differ. I looked behind me again and worryingly the figure was catching up.