Lennon.
A whole week, that’s how long it had been since Harry had made any sort of conversation with me. He would occasionally glare across the room, but that made it even more obvious that something had happened between us. Everyone knew something was off, but I was pretty sure only a select few, i.e. Louis and Paul actually knew what it was. Niall had tried to make a joke about the whole situation but it died faster than a fish out of water.
For the week, Harry slept in a different room and I was sure for one night he even went back to his own apartment. If I thought I was isolated before, I had no idea what this was. Since Harry was acting like I had just summoned the devil, everyone else felt the need to copy him. Not to the extent I was completely ignored but conversations were minimal and more or less one worded.
I felt stuck at a dead end, wondering when things were going to turn around. I couldn’t live the rest of my life here, like this, being alone. I spent almost everyday just sitting in the bedroom, doodling in my notebook. I couldn’t face writing anything at the moment, it made me sick to my stomach just thinking about Harry’s livid outburst.
I did wonder pretty much every day how the people downstairs could just go about their normal lives when there’s a girl, who they barely know sat upstairs, practically being taken hostage. I went downstairs for food and drink, but it was painfully awkward, I felt so unwelcome. I contemplated running away, or just walking out the front door on many occasions, but I preferred living in solitary rather than presenting myself on deaths door.
I had already planned in my head it was going to be another tedious day of just sitting on my butt, or hanging upside off the bed doing nothing productive. I showered, washed my hair, dried my hair, put on fresh clothes and then just sat back down. At least it killed an hour, just. I’d eaten breakfast before anyone else had even cracked an eyelid. I was starting to deliberately wake up earlier and go to bed later just so I didn’t have to see anyone.
My stomach grumbled though, it wasn’t that I wasn’t eating enough; I just wasn’t eating the right things. I would grab what I could easily get my hands on then run back upstairs – not the most practical way of doing anything. I clutched my hands around my stomach attempting to stop the unattractive noise that my gut was creating; it didn’t help. I stopped noticing it though when the door slammed open.
Harry’s hand was still palm flat on the door as it crashed against the wall. I cringed at the loud crash it made and jumped in my seat. He was breathing heavily, either he had to been running or he was angry. I bit my lip in anxiety, staring at him as I waited for an explanation to his fearful entrance. He stared back, his glass eyes looked fiercer than ever. I gulped down the lump in my throat waiting for his next move.
He didn’t say anything like I half expected, he continued to stare as he flicked his head towards the door, signalling he wanted me to leave. I got up and followed him out off the room, holding my breath as I did so. It was silent as we walked down the stairs. In fact the whole house had an eerie silence to it. It had been quiet all week but you could feel something in the air wasn’t right.
He led me to the living room. I felt sick before I even knew what was happening. Everyone in the room sat completely still as we sat down on the empty sofa. No one moved, no one looked at us. It was deathly quiet until Paul turned the TV on.
I screamed as soon as the video began playing. I was screaming incoherent words, shouting “NO!” at the TV as it continued to flash the images I never wanted to see. I was still screaming and shouting as I stood up, barely hearing what they were even saying. I thought I was going to be sick. Harry grabbed my hand, trying to pull me back down onto the sofa but I brushed his hand off with all my anger.
