♡ chapter 17 - Harry ♡

            Where the fuck is he?"

            I hadn't intended for those to be the first words leaving my lips, but seeing Rose so torn pissed me off to the fullest. Seething would be an understatement to describe my utter anger coursing my veins at the moment, my nails leaving indentions in my palms from squeezing my fists so tight. I wasn't sure how to describe this irate ordeal, but it was making my entire body tremble the more I thought about him laying a single hand on her. If he was going to die before, he's going to be six feet under now.

            Her bottom lip was split down the middle, a bruise lining her jaw with a slight purple-ish tint to portray it was just created. Stray twigs sprouted from her hair, looking as if she had escaped and ran through the woods like a wild woman trying to reach safety. Various cuts slashed across both arms and legs, only conjuring a bloodier mess than when she first tumbled through the door.

            Finally gathering the little senses I contained with all this aggression, I walked over to her. For a moment I hesitated on touching her, until I remembered she stupidly took off her bracelet just to make out with me. That's not to say I didn't enjoy it, but it's the whole reason she got snatched from me in the first place. I'd rather stick with the pain of never holding her instead of the pain of her never being with me at all.

            "Are you all right, Rose? What happened?" I asked as I gently grabbed her upper arm, helping her to her feet. My eyes darted to the boys dumbly standing around, wide-eyed and clueless. "Don't just fucking stand there, get her some water or something," I snapped angrily, and they each scurried off to do a random task.

            Rose leaned into me as we hobbled to the couch, her touch oddly numb instead of the fiery feeling I had felt when she first made physical contact with me. But I tried not to relish on that pointless thought at the moment, especially since my beauty was half dead in my arms.

            "What happened?" I asked her again, much softer this time as she sat on the couch, slumping back against the arm.

            Her eyes closed, her breaths still coming out in ragged pants as she held one hand to her chest, the other to her forehead. "H-he got me," she breathed out hoarsely, her voice sounding increasingly scratchy.

            My eyebrows pinched together. "I understand that, Rose. But what the hell did he do to make you look like this?"

            Rose didn't reply.

            My shaking hands from my enraged state heaved in frustration through my hair, my heart pounding fiercely against my ribcage, my imagination getting the best of me as I pictured all the sickening things he could've done to her. Beating her would be one thing, but taking advantage of her would be an extreme scenario I don't want to think about or else I'll go ape shit on this entire household.

            Jessie came back into the room, a wet rag and cup of water in his hands. "Here you go, Rose. Drink it slow."

            Rose weakly sat up, her dried bloody lips taking small sips as she let out a relieved sigh, placing the rag on her forehead. I watched her carefully, my eyebrows pulled together as I tried to depict why she was hardly speaking. Perhaps it's just the shock of everything that had occurred to her, or maybe she truly is just flat out exhausted. But to see her so silent was strange, not to mention worrying me even more. It's highly unlike her to shut that beautiful mouth.

            Jessie looked to me, his brows raised expectantly as if he were waiting for me to prompt her. I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, standing to my feet as I motioned for him to follow me into the kitchen. He did so, almost hesitantly, but he followed me nonetheless into the confined area Rose couldn't eavesdrop.

            "What's going on?" he asked as he leaned against the counter.

            I placed my hands on my hips, my tongue swiping over my lips as I looked up at him. "I'm not quite sure yet."

            Jessie rose an eyebrow.

            Sighing, I raked my fingers through my hair. "She's acting weird, Jessie. I don't know if she's still just shocked, or if Marcus did something to her or... I just don't know, but she's not acting like herself."

            Jessie pursed his lips, folding his arms across his chest. "Harry, I think you're just being paranoid. I mean, she just came through the door a bloody mess. You gotta cut her a little slack for not speaking, right? My bet is she's still a bit shaken up, that's all."

            Considering if I told Jessie it was different when she touched me would sound extremely weird, all I could do was nod. I had to believe that Rose was still Rose, and Marcus was still Marcus. He probably brainwashed her, or even forced her to say certain things just to confuse us or get inside of our minds. I had to remember that he was the evil in this world, and it was about time I started trying to be the good.

            Not sure how well it'll work out, but a boy can dream, right?

            "I guess you're right," I muttered under my breath, not believing I was actually telling Jessie he was right about something.

            Jessie's lips curled into a satisfied smile. "I'm sorry, Harry. What was that? I couldn't quite hear you over how right I am."

            I rolled my eyes. "Shut the fuck up, brown eyes."

            Jessie laughed, following me out of the kitchen and back into the living room. Rose was sitting up on the couch now, her hands clasped in her lap as she glanced around at everything. She almost looked as if she'd never seen this place before, her bright brown eyes filled with utter curiosity as she scanned the place. She looked to us as she heard us enter, her eyes lingering on mine for a moment before she looked away, fiddling with her fingers.

            I frowned. "Are you feeling any better?"

            Rose shrugged.

            Biting my lip in frustration, I noticed everyone was gathered in this room again. Whether Rose was the same or not, I needed to know an answer to a question that sounds so pathetic, but has been bugging me ever since it happened. Not to mention she really needed to change her clothes.

            "Come on, Rose. Let's get you some fresh clothes," I told her and she slowly nodded, standing to her feet and following me like a lost puppy. The boys began to whisper, and I was sure they thought her behavior was eerie just as I did.

            I couldn't help but to also take note in how nervous she seemed to be. Her eyes kept darting over to me at the slightest movement I made, almost as if she were scared I was going to do something to her. She surely should know by now that I'd never lay a single violent hand on her. But she kept giving me wide eyes, trying to avoid eye contact as she kept a generous distance. That only multiplied my worry.

            "Here," I said softly, trying not to scare her any more than she looked to be, "you can change into this."

            Rose sheepishly nodded, keeping her eyes averted from mine as she looked around for the bathroom. My eyebrows pulled together at how utterly lost she looked, my defenses rising as I stepped closer to her, but she took a step away from me, her back colliding with the wall.

            "Rose, what is wrong with you?" I asked quietly. "Why are you looking at me like I'm some sort of monster?"

            It hurt, honestly, knowing that the girl I love (God, it still sounds fucking pathetic) was now petrified of me only after hours of being gone. Had Marcus really messed with her mind that much? Did he tell her a shitload of negative things about me? Was he lying to her?

            "I-I'm not," she murmured, tucking a strand of hair frantically behind her ear. "C-can you please tell me where the bathroom is?"

            Frowning, I jabbed my finger in the direction opposite of us, and Rose silently nodded before quickly scurrying away from me.

            Plopping down onto the side of the bed to wait for her, my mind swirled around the many different possibilities that could be true. Either Marcus really did toy with her mind into conjuring up some implausible thought of me being dangerous to her, or she's still shaken up about the whole ordeal in general. I just can't find it believable that Rose is scared of me after all we've been through, all I've saved her from. Does my jackass attitude make her think differently of me? Surely not, or else she would've never kissed me in the first place.

            Fuck, you're so pathetic, Harry.

            Rose came out moments later, a t-shirt adorning her torso and some pajama pants hanging from her hips. Her hair was pulled over to one shoulder, her thumbs still fuddling with each other as if she had no idea of what else to do with herself. I tried to give her an assuring smile, but it must've came out more of a bewildered glance because she instantly looked away from me.

            "I'm not going to hurt you, Rose," I finally told her in a quiet tone, rubbing my face vigorously as she cautiously sat on the opposite side of the bed. "I'd never hurt you, and you should know that."

            Rose didn't say anything.

            I turned to face her, my emeralds scanning her brown eyes incredulously, trying to find an answer in that beautiful head of hers. She had washed the blood off of her face and arms while she was in the bathroom, much to my great relief because I couldn't stand seeing her like that. But now I couldn't stand seeing her period, simply because of the terrified look etched across her features.

            "Do you remember what I told you before you took off your bracelet?" I asked quietly, still feeling pathetic but needing an answer nonetheless.

            Rose looked to her lap, nodding slowly.

            "What did I say?"

            Rose was quiet.

            "Rose." My tone was sharp, the type of voice I used to the Council every time they tried to intimidate me. Of course I would always win that fight of intimidation, but Rose flinched with my harsh tone, making my heart clench.

            "That... that you love me," she said quietly, but sounded very unsure of herself as she continued to avoid eye contact.

            "Do you love me, Rose?"

             The fact that I knew that small question made me extremely vulnerable only made this situation one hundred times worse. But I needed to know her answer, because it's been killing me ever since that heavenly kiss we shared in the backyard. The passion that I had felt between us was greater than any other emotion I had ever felt, but she hadn't said if she loved me back or not. And perhaps she doesn't, but I need to know this for closure. Of course I'm praying she does, or even just a sliver of feelings she may have for me would be nice, but I need to hear it from her.

            "Rose, please answer me."

            My eyes scanned her face frantically, trying to depict what she was thinking, but I got nothing. That was also abnormal, considering I used to always be able to detect her fear, her admiration, or her hatred. There had been times when she would smile at me, and that would be all the assurance I needed that she didn't fully hate me. But then there were times when she would shout, the creases on her forehead quite evident when she found out I had first been using her. For a good cause, might I add, but now that cause doesn't even seem relevant anymore.

            All I want—all I need—is Rose.

            Rose looked up to meet my gaze for a minimal time since she got back, her brown eyes flooded with confusion and fear as she stared back at me. A small pang of hope had been jammed into my heart, the hope that maybe she would love me back and we could be together for a short time period before the Council came looking for us. That's when I would demand for Rose to leave, to find coverage so she wouldn't be found with me. I wouldn't be able to risk her life like that just so we could be together.

            Somehow, her answer had been already imprinted in my mind as I should've seen it coming. All it took were those five words; five words to tear me apart like no other sentence had ever done before. Five stupid, idiotic words that seemed to break me into tiny pieces on the floor.

            And I hated myself for ever thinking differently.

"No," she finally whispered, her eyes falling back to her lap. "I don't love you." 

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A/N: Comment why you think Rose is acting weird! Love you all (: xx

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