Little Bird

I woke up the next morning with the immediate need to projectile vomit everywhere. I sprung from the bed, from the warmth and comfort the heavy duvet provided, the harsh pounding against my skull begging me not to but the intense wave of nausea washing over me telling me I had to. My socked feet padded against the carpeted floor as I sped from the bedroom and straight into the bathroom; and I flung the toilet seat lid up, falling to my knees as my body forced itself to rid all that I consumed the previous night.

“Birdy,” a hand placed itself on my crooked back, another collecting my hair into a bundle, holding it safely back in a loose fist.

It took a few minutes of emptying my insides into the toilet bowl and Harry creating calming circles on my back with the palm of his hand, but eventually I flushed the remains of the evidence from last night and wearily stood from the cold tiles, my watery eyes latching on Harry’s.

“I don’t feel too good.” I mumbled, wiping away the water that against my will had slipped from my eyes in the midst of my unfortunate vomiting.

“Your headache can act as your punishment; I said that you weren’t drinking.” He told me, in such a patronizing manner it caused me to frown at the floor, my lips subconsciously jutting to form a slight pout as I let out a small huff of annoyance.

“You’re not the boss of me,” I mumbled quietly, biting my lip when I realized I’d spoke my thoughts aloud, my eyes widening as I awaited a dreaded reaction. So when his fingers grasped my jawbone, though much more gentle than I anticipated, I flinched backwards instinctively. His touch fell from my jaw, and internally I relinquished in a sigh of relief. My eyes timidly flicked from the floor and up to his, expression one of annoyance and confusion at my own reaction to what I thought he would do.

“Are you already forgetting what we spoke about yesterday?” He scolded, the condescending tone merging with anger; his large frame that towered over his hard, and mine stern features each contributing the profound intimidation he held over me.

“No,” I muttered in a small voice, feeling a pang of shame briefly meet me, an odd familiarity to the situation, but then I remembered that I wasn’t here of my own accord but against my will. He was my kidnapper; I should feel not even close to a trace of regret at disobeying him. He should feel guilty.

He stared at me, eyebrows raised expectedly, which caused my brow to crinkle slightly, before I soon realized what he wanted.

“Sorry.” I said timidly.

“Good girl, now go have a shower, freshen up while I make you some food and get something for your head. Okay?”

I nodded dejectedly, the resentment bubbling like acid in the pit of my stomach questioning me on why I was even listening to him at all.

~*~

Once Harry had made me some food and gave me something for my headache, he left me alone. He was still in the house but I didn’t really know where, so practically alone, I took the opportunity to explore the house feeling oddly restless. I checked the front door, finding that even once unlocking all the locks that I could, naturally a key was needed, so wearing a disappointed expression, I ventured elsewhere. The backdoor was locked, the patio door locked, any and every window I found it locked.

I dragged my feet past the couch and into the kitchen, then back through the living room and into the dining room, then disregarded the various other doors in fear I’d stumble across Harry, and I was craving some time to myself. I always preferred my own company simply because it was easier, only here I didn’t have much, if not any say in the matter, constantly under Harry’s watchful eyes, and if not, alone time wasn’t the most entertaining because I had nothing to keep my boredom at bay – no books, films, nothing.

Harry had brought a suitcase that I was planning on taking to university (I didn’t want to even think about how he managed that), but all it contained was a few necessary pieces of clothing, nothing really that had much use to me. I wondered what had happened to my other belongings I was planning on taking away with me; Harry must’ve done something with them, as far as I knew my parents believed I was where they had sent me, it would’ve looked strange and suspicious if I had taken only one suitcase.

Trudging up the stairs I wondered past ‘my’ room, which contained nothing but a few pieces of clothing and a few pieces of furniture. I found myself in the bathroom at one point, a spare room that had next to nothing in it, before finally I ended up in Harry’s bedroom. I resisted the urge to nosily root through his belongings, walking straight over to the window, where I settled on the sill, staring out of his window with my knees brought to my chest.

I had already spent too much time peering out the window in my room, there was no view left for my gaze to explore and with my boredom dangerously peeking, I moved to Harry’s. His window allowed me to see the street below, the people innocently walking by, the houses opposite and beside naïve to what was going on in their neighbour’s home, and the life that I wouldn’t be able to live. Or it did kind of; the outside world was slightly blurred due to the rainwater running in gentle rivulets down the glass, spots and streams of water clouding the image of what could be freedom.

It was typical weather for Britain, even though it was June and therefore supposed to be summer.

“Birdy?” My head turned upon hearing Harry’s abrupt, familiar husky voice. “What are you doing in here?”

I shrugged my shoulders a little, “I’m bored and the view from my window has already been explored.” I admitted quietly.

Harry walked over to the edge of his bed and sat down, eyes glued on me. “What did you normally do to stay occupied, then?”

I tucked my knees closer to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, a sheepish smile tugging at my lips. “I, uh… work, mainly. Just work.”

A small frown creased his brow, “Do you want me to buy you a maths book?”
My eyes widened dramatically, lips agape as I stared at him in horror. “No, God no. Definitely not. Please don’t buy me a maths book.” I pleaded seriously, my eyebrows pulling together as I shook my head at his composed expression. And then the corners of his lips were tugged upwards, a smile playing on his lips as his eyes spelled out humour, amusement evident on his features at my horrified reaction.

“I was joking, Little Bird.” He grinned, and I noticed a dimple perfectly prominent, a dint in his left cheek that I hadn’t seen before, any smile on his lips not big enough to reveal the dimple I wasn’t aware of. I found myself reciprocating the smile, a smaller one but a smile nonetheless; it was different witnessing Harry when his features weren’t hard and his husky voice with a constant underlining warning. A nice different though.

“Can I watch my favourite program?” I asked hopefully.

He nodded his head with a smile. “Sure, when’s it on?”

“Urm, it’s on the internet.”

Harry nodded his head again, “Okay but I’ll have to watch it with you.”

“Okay,” I grinned happily, not too bothered that I would have to have Harry sat next to me; it had been so long since I’d last watched it and I was behind on multiple series. Internet access in my house was limited unless it was used to do work or research or anything that wasn’t remotely fun, and when my mum had caught me watching it once she’d banded it, deeming it ‘absurd’ and ‘ridiculous’ – which was fair enough, because Supernatural was about two brothers hunting demons, but still, she didn’t have to ban it considering it was one of the only things keeping me sane.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute.”

~*~

“So wait, basically Sam is part demon even though him and Dean are hunting demons, and some yellow-eyed demon that killed their mum wants Sam for something?” Harry questioned, for what I counted to be at least the fourth time. I peeked up at him, eyes straying from the screen and up to his face. His brow was crinkled in meek confusion, eyes narrowed slightly at the program and lips pursed; and I couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped my lips at the confusion he felt, no matter how many times I explained it, in various different ways he still had no clue what was happening. I didn’t blame him, we had started from season 2, and I found his complete cluelessness both amusing and quite cute.

It was odd how this morning he was fulfilling what I thought a typical kidnapper would act like, or at least along those lines; intimidating and angry and dominant.

Only now, he looked young and almost innocent, a contrast that was now confusing to me. But I liked it.

I shouldn’t have felt one positive feeling towards my kidnapper, but Harry at this moment in time, while we watched my favourite TV program on his laptop, lying on his bed with our backs pressed against the headboard and snacks surrounding us that he had brought up; it didn’t feel like I was a prisoner. And that both pleased and scared me.

“So I was thinking,” he’d said to me later, “I’m going to give you one call.”

My head snapped up, eyes widening slightly at his words, and his actions as he retrieved his phone from his pocket. My mind immediately began racing, what would I say? Who would I call? Would I have the opportunity to tell them of my current messed up situation? Maybe I could sneakily phone the police, mind you I wasn’t cunning enough, and I would never have been able to get away with it.

“Tell your parents you love them or whatever, but I’ll be standing right here and I’ll hear everything you say. You mention me, or let onto that anything is even remotely wrong and I’ll make sure you regret it. Got it?”

I had never heard Harry sound and look so serious and intimidating, not even yesterday when explaining the ‘rules’, an evident warning to his cold tone that caused an uncomfortable shiver to rake throughout my body and my head to automatically nod in response. “Good. I don’t want you doing anything stupid. Think of this as a goodbye – for now at least, until I can trust you fully.”

Meekly I nodded my head again, timidly accepting the phone from Harry’s palm. He had already got the numbers up on the screen for me, so my fingers pressed gently against the touch screen, dialling the familiar numbers.

My mum picked up on the fifth ring.

“Mum?”

I heard a lot of shuffling in the background, and it took a few moments before it subsided a little bit. “Hello? Hello, who is this?” Her voice was rushed and tone distressed, nothing completely out of the ordinary, only I noticed she had abandoned her ‘telephone voice’ that I always found unnecessary.

“It’s me,” I answered quietly, cautious that Harry’s eyes were watching my every move, making me feel awkward and vulnerable under his heavy stare.

My eyes dropped to the floor.

“Who? Who is this?”

My facial features fell a little, a frown creasing my brow. I felt oddly disheartened and annoyed at myself for thinking that she would be happy to hear from me; but now she didn’t even recognize her only daughter’s voice. I shouldn’t have been disappointed, but I was.

“Mum, it’s me. Birdy.” I answered dejectedly.

“Birdy,” she repeated sharply, “Why are you calling? You should be studying, aren’t you busy?”

“I am, I am studying.” I lied in a small voice, my eyes briefly flicking to Harry, who gave me a small nod.

“Then why are you calling? Your studying can’t be very productive if you’re on the phone to me.”

“I-I just thought maybe you’d want to-”

I heard a heavy sigh through the speaker, easily picturing the roll of her eyes that conveyed perfectly her irritation towards me.

“Birdy, you don’t have time for this and nor do I. I’m really busy, I have a-”

“Why?” I cut off timidly, wondering miserably while my own mum couldn’t spare two minutes to talk to me, I wondered what was so important that meant she couldn’t have a brief conversation with me. I felt nervous in thinking that I would have to create a bundle of lies when she asked me how university was going, only now all the anxiety disappeared to be replaced with a familiar sinking in my chest that told me every time to lower my expectations. I should have known better than to expect anything more, but I didn’t.

Another sigh. “I hate to tell you this over the phone I really do, but I can’t exactly come down there and you can’t come up here, not when you’re just settling in and sorting out your studies. I’m sorry, but your grandad has passed away.”

Immediately I turned my back to Harry, mouth agape and tears prickling my eyes.

My heart squeezed painfully as her words dawned on me, every emotion I was capable of feeling degrading to nothing but a heart wrenching anguish that caused tears to sting along the rims of my eyes; within an instant filling to the brim, and without my consent spilling onto my cheeks. I gulped the lump lodged within my tightening throat.

“What? How, when?” I choked out desperately, struggling to maintain the balance in my tiny voice.

“He had a heart attack, early morning the day you left, me and your dad had to come back early from our trip. I know you were very close, Birdy, but I don’t want this bad news distracting you. I don’t think it’s such a good idea you attend the funeral, it’d be too hard on you and your studies – and you need to focus.

“I have to go; I have funeral preparations to sort out,” she trailed off almost sadly,
“Bye, Birdy.”

I was left with the desolate tone once she had hung up the newfound information messing up my mind and tears tracking my cheeks as I abandoned the phone and bolted from the room.

I had a head start on Harry; I’d slammed the door shut when I ran from the bedroom, and his evident shock on my abrupt departure bought me some time too. I sped downstairs as fast as I possibly could, and it was merely a coincidence and an odd taste of good luck that the front door swung open as I reached the bottom step.

I fled out of the house, my body speeding past a stunned Louis; I could see from the corner of my eyes briefly, his body frozen, key in midair from previously taking it from the door to unlock it.

Immediately I was greeted with a gust of wind and an abundance of heavy raindrops, the icy air blowing errant strands of my hair around my face, and the water pelting from the skies soaking my clothes.

My feet splashed in the puddles and against the wet ground as I made it out of the garden past Harry’s gate. I spun to the right, taking off in any random direction, not aware of where I was or where I was planning on going to get home.
I was lost, but all I could do was run.

Notes

GUYS I'M SO CLOSE TO 1K!!! I IS HAPPY
please let me know what you think of this chapter:)
do you think Harry will catch Birdy, and if so should he punish her?
Birdy's mum's kind of a bitch i know:|, and should she tell Harry about what her mum told her?:)
your thoughts make me happyyyyy

and on another note I'm gonna see 5SOS IN 18 DAYS (25 Aug 2015) IN TORONTO!! I'M EXCITE!!!
also i had a rugby game yesterday and now i have a bruise the size of my palm on my thigh :(((