Ally’s POV
I can feel someone staring at me. I don’t move at first; maybe if I don’t move, they’ll leave. It doesn’t work. I know I’m in Harry’s room, but where is he? I open my eyes and sit up. I see Doc standing there. My mind flashes back:
I wake up lying in the bed with a man sitting next to me, picking at my naked side. I wince in pain as I try to move my head. I can’t remember anything that happened the day before, but that’s probably due to the throbbing in my head. As he moves his hands down my side a bit more, I cry out.
“AHHH! What’s going on?” A pain unlike any I’d ever felt had enveloped my side. The man chortles.
“You were shot then flung against a wall. I’m a doctor,” he says in an Australian accent.
“Please help me! This guy kidnapped me and I can’t escape. You have to help me,” I plead with him. He chortles again.
“How do you think I’m getting paid?” He asks while he swings his body on top of mine. I’m used to men getting on top of me and doing whatever they want. Sometimes they have knives or punches for me. Sometimes it’s only sex they want. I think of a beach. I explore the water while the doctor rapes me. I don’t even feel it anymore.
“You can call me doc.”
Harry rushes into the room startling me from the flash back. I realize I’m cowering against the backboard of the bed when he puts his arms around me. He coos in my ear and let’s me know it’s okay. He informs me that he’s Louis from the band.
“L-Louis?” I whisper. That’s not the name he had told me to call him.
“That’d be me,” He says in a British accent similar to Curly’s. I breathe a sigh of relief. Doc is Australian. That’s when I start to realize the differences between the two of them. Louis’s hair is shorter and wavier. His eyes are also a different color and he’s shorter than Doc was.
“Ana?” Louis gasps. “What the hell is going on here?” He demands. He’s looking at Harry.
“Come on mate. It’s not what it looks like,” Harry says defensively without letting go of me.
“I’ll explain,” I look at Harry, extricating myself from his hold. I walk into the living room and sit on the couch. Louis and Harry follow me and Louis takes a seat across from us. He looks wary of me, which makes no sense. What am I going to do to him?
“I was kidnapped four months ago. I escaped. We can’t go to the police because Kyle, the guy who kidnapped me, runs the place,” I say as quickly as possible. Louis looks between Harry and I confusedly.
“Then why are you here?” He asks innocently. He’s trying to be sensitive and it would be cute if he didn’t look so much like Doc.
“I ran into Harry on a street and he offered to let me stay here until I can do something else,” I sum up. Louis reaches a hand over to me and rests it on my arm. I pull back as a searing pain racks my body. He had touched my freshest cut. I had 9 stitches in my arm that were put sloppily in. I grip my arm as a low moan of pain escapes my pain.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he apologizes earnestly. I nod my head and smile through my pain.
“It’s okay, Louis.” Harry grabs my hand and gently pulls my arm over to him where he examines the cut. One of the stitches had pulled out. He guides me over to the sink where he pulls out gauze and gently wraps my arm without saying anything. He is so understanding. He obviously knows that I can’t go to a doctor and I don’t need him asking me how I got it. Or any of the other injuries for that matter.
I didn’t even realize Louis was next to me when he helps Harry tape off the end.
“If you ever get bored of Hazza here you’re always welcome at my place,” Louis winks at me. I feel the warmth spread to my face and I giggle.
“Hazza? I figured him to be more of a Curly,” I joke. Louis and Harry both break out into laughter.
“I think I’m gonna like this girl,” Louis laughs as he lightly punches Harry in the shoulder.
“Oh it’s on.” Harry tackles Louis as I step back and watch the writhing ball of testosterone try to pin the other to the ground. Harry stands up and raises his hands victoriously.
“I am the best fighter in the world!” He announces triumphantly.
“I kinda doubt that,” I whisper in his ear from behind as I easily drop him to his stomach and pin one of his arms between his shoulder blades. “I’m a third degree black belt.” I had been in martial arts since I was four. I stopped when I moved to London.
“Like I said,” Louis says as he stands up and brushes his pants off. “I’m gonna like this girl.”