I don't think this is that disturbing but if you're sensitive about that kinda stuff then just skip this chapter I guess

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Clara stepped out onto the driveway and her gaze went up to the sky. The clouds seemed to visibly darken with each second that passed, and the sun was no where to be seen now; she could tell it was going to rain soon. Her skin felt chilled as she hugged her arms around her quivering body and followed Liam to the door of his house, where he was already fishing for his keys. She had forcefully tucked away Harry's words in a distant space of her mind during the drive, because she knew that if she replayed them anymore, the sharp headache that seemed to cut through her skull would only intensify.

"Good thing we left before we got caught in the rain," Liam commented when he grasped his keys and opened the front door. He gave her a small smile, but worry filled his eyes as he noticed the way Clara was staring at the ground. He brushed his fingertips against her hand.

"Come inside," he whispered. "Are you hungry?"

Clara lifted her eyes to his and nodded her head. She didn't know if she was actually hungry or not, but food always took her mind off of things. She padded inside his house and blew out a quiet sigh. She had slept so nicely the night before, but now her exhaust had returned, perhaps due to the weight of everything which also seemed to force her lips to etch down into a frown.

She glanced back at her friend whose eyes had lit up. "I know," Liam grinned at her, hoping to bring a smile back to her beautiful face. "How about I go get food from your favorite restaurant? The one by your parents' house."

Clara was able to force a smile, admiring his constant effort to be there for her, even when he didn't have to. "That sounds good," she nodded and rubbed her stomach. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, it's fine. You can take a nap in my room or something. I won't be too long. It's not that far away from here." He gave her hand a squeeze and Clara swelled with gratitude. She suddenly lurched into his chest and wound her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly.

"Thank you so much," she mumbled, twisting the fabric of his coat between her fingers as she nuzzled her face against his warm, minty smelling chest. "For everything. You're so good to me, Liam."

His face became soft with affection and he hugged her back. "Of course. I do it because I love you."

"I love you, too," Clara whispered after a moment before pulling away from the emotional embrace. She wasn't just thanking him for the food, but for everything he had done for her over the years, especially what he had done in the past twenty-four hours. After Harry, he was the best thing that had ever happened to her. Clara watched him as he went back out to his car and drove away, leaving her in the big house all by herself.

Her footsteps seemed to echo as she plodded up the staircase, her heels against the polished wood flooring. Her feet ached and each step she took seemed to worsen the blisters that she could feel forming on her ankles from wearing heels for two days in a row. Clara had the desire to ask Liam if they could stop by her apartment later, perhaps, so she could pick up a clean pair of clothes and more comfortable shoes. He had done so much for her already, though. The last thing Clara wanted to do was become a burden.

The first thing she did when she entered his bedroom, after flickering on the lights to illuminate the walls with the dull glow from the lamp by his bed, was slip off the loathsome black heels from her feet. She set them by the door and then dropped her purse and phone onto his bed. Slithering a hand through her natural waves of hair, Clara sunk her teeth into her lip, looking around the room. She had been there so many times, for sleepovers when they were younger, for birthday parties, for late night studying when she had failed to prepare for school. Liam was probably the main reason she even graduated on time.

School felt like a lifetime ago, but when her eyes landed on the yearbook that was laying on the desk against the center of the wall, Clara was reminded that it was only two years ago. So much had happened since she was a teenager, but yet she still felt foolish and incapable of dealing with real life, her current situation being an example of her naivety. How stupid was she for getting mad at Harry, and leaving him when the only place she wanted to be was right by his side?

Exhaling and trying not to think about Harry, she ambled over to the desk, boredom quickly seeping in. Clara lowered herself onto the cushioned chair that swiveled under her weight, and reached for the yearbook with a nostalgic smile.

As she scanned over the pages, the occasional giggle escaping when she saw an old picture of herself in that next-to-nothing tennis uniform, Clara became distracted just like she wanted. She saw the faces of people she used to see everyday, and stared at them with wondering eyes. How were they all doing? Were any of them married yet? Did they have security in their lives, like she wished she could have? Clara seemed to be in life's grasp- it had the ability to change how she felt day by day. Only two days ago, she thought everything was finally falling in place after her wonderful night with Harry, but her life seemed to find humor in turning everything around with a snap of its malicious fingers. She wondered if it played those games with everyone, or only her.

She found Liam's photo and shook her head in disbelief at how different he looked back then, not even that long ago. His hair was longer, and his face was rounder, and his smile was less confident. His eyes were the same round, brown eyes that she found so much comfort in, though. Liam had done some changing just as she had, but for the most part, he was the only constant in her life. Even in high school, he gave more to her than she could ever return. He was the one thing her life had yet to twist around.

When Clara flipped to a page in the back with all of the teachers' photos, a folded paper fluttered out and fell to her feet. It had been stuck in between the pages. Clara frowned and set the book down before reaching for it from the floor.

It was a small notebook paper that had been torn out. It was blank, but when she picked it up and was about to set it down on the desk, Clara noticed that on one side, there was inked writing scribbled down. Her curious nature caused her to squint her eyes to read it.

3033 Pine Ave

It was an address, she realized.

She stared at it a moment, wondering why it seemed so familiar, when suddenly her blood was replaced with ice.

It was Harry's address.

Clara's face twisted in confusion and she quickly tossed the paper onto the surface of the desk, as if repulsed by it. What on earth would Liam be doing with his address? Harry's accusations uninvitedly seeped into her thoughts, but Clara shook her head in denial. There could be so many explanations as to why he had it, she wasn't just going to assume the worst.

But what if...

Clara inhaled a sharp breath. If that piece of paper held any meaning at all, then she would be able to find other things, too, right? And if she didn't, then Harry had been wrong all along and her worry could be put to rest. Gnawing at the interior of her cheek for a lingering moment, her disarranged mind went to war with itself over something that seemed completely absurd. After a minute, Clara finally swerved the chair back a bit so she could observe the entirety of the desk.

Her gaze swept over to the neatly stacked papers on the side and she noticed the scribbled notes and red ink- those were his school papers, probably tests and graded essays. She felt a bit of relief course through her, but then she looked at the drawers. It would be so utterly rude and invasive if she looked through them, but Clara was a curious kind of girl and her racing heart and the sliver of doubt that had infiltrated her mind after seeing the paper with Harry's address on it, caused her to reach for the top drawer and pull it open.

More papers. She rummaged her hand through them before her eyes landed on a leather journal. On the cover, the letters CB were inked into the material. Her breath hitched in her throat. Those were her initials.

"What the hell?" she whispered to herself, voice laced with a subtle shake. She hunched in the chair while placing the book on her lap, her long hair draping over her. It was thick, and clearly worn, as if it was used often and for a long time. Clara rubbed her aching forehead before flipping open to a random page.

It was filled with Liam's handwriting.

March 3rd

She went to the doctor for birth control today. I guess Brian isn't just a friend.

Her eyes became round. Brian was her boyfriend right before prom, who she only saw for a month. She continued reading.

May 17th

Clara went to the tennis banquet with her mother. Her white dress looked stunning. I need to ask her what her size is next time I see her so I can buy that dress for her that I saw the other day. I NEED to see her in it.

Clara's breathing became ragged and she shut her eyes, not wanting to read anymore. These were harmless, right? He's had a crush on her the past few years, she was already aware of that, but they were strictly just friends now. She had made that very clear to him.

Her eyes fluttered back open and she debated for a moment whether to read more. She felt like she had seen enough, the nausea settling in her stomach being an indicator of that- but what if...

Clara took a deep breath before flipping to the next page. There was more writing, more dates, more notes about her. These were all things from years ago, back when they were in school and her mother had forced her to play tennis. She was finally seeing the extensiveness of Liam's little crush, which she was realizing hadn't been so little. He had written things about her almost everyday, things that she hadn't even suspected he had known. She read over a note that was written at the end of the school year when she had started to see this guy who Clara had become quite invested in- the one that she could remember sharing about with Harry once.

I like this one more than the last. I think he treats her well.

That was the first thing she had read in the book that would have made her smile if it weren't for the growing pit in her gut. Clara flipped through more of the pages until her heart plummeted to the bare soles of her feet. Pictures.

The first picture was taped down to the page, and a bit torn from age, but she could still make it out. It was her. It was a younger version of herself, from when she was only ten years old, and as Clara stared at it for a lingering moment, she recognized it to be a photo that once was in her room, in a frame, by her bed. But now it was here. In this book that Liam had stashed away in his desk.

The next picture was one of Clara in her tennis uniform, so she had to have been a teenager. She was talking with some girl who she didn't recognize and they were standing right in front of what Clara remembered to be the girls locker room.

Clara swallowed down the acidic taste in her throat before turning to the next page. So far, she could still feel her mind come up with excuses for it all- these pictures aren't so bad; they're from years ago; he was a young boy and he loved me; sure he had been stalking me, but didn't I do something similar to Mark Berg when I had a crush on him?

All of her reasonable doubt was washed away, however, when she flipped to the pages towards the end of the diary.

These pictures were more recent.

There were ones of her kissing her last boyfriend in his car.

There was one of her at her parents' house, sleeping in her old bed.

There were ones of Clara in only her bra and panties as she seemed to be getting dressed. Liam must have taken them from outside of her bedroom window.

Fearful tears welled in her eyes and she became frantic, flipping through the pages and letting her eyes scan over picture after picture after picture, some with scribbled notes beside them. She got to the pictures that were not so innocent or old. There was one of Clara as she had just gotten out of the shower and had only a towel around her naked body. There were more of her getting dressed in her room, some when she was in nothing at all.

She broke out into sobs when she reached the second to last page of the book.

Harry.

There were pictures of her and Harry, in his house, on his bed.

They were naked.

He was on top of her.

She screwed her eyes shut and clamped a trembling hand over her mouth. Clara's entire body was quivering in disgust and shock, and every fiber in her urged her to shut the book and thrash it against the wall, but she opened her eyes. She needed to see everything.

She turned to the very last page and saw the most recent thing she had seen yet. It was obviously taken through the window. It was of her, her body laying on the table as Harry's head was nuzzled between her bare thighs, her hand buried in his long hair. That was from his birthday. That was from the night that...

"Fuck," Clara whimpered, her voice not sounding like her own as it came out shaky and small. The very last picture, underneath the intimate one of her and Harry, was just of her. Clara was sitting in the bath tub with her hair sprawled against the water, and her eyes closed as she relaxed her head against the edge. That one was from this morning.

"Clara?"

The gentle voice from the door caused her to let out a short scream and then clamp the diary shut, her eyes wide. She swiveled around in the chair and clutched the leather book against her chest as she stared at the boy standing in the door frame, a bag of the food he had gotten in his hands. His eyes flickered from her tear-stained face to the book in her hands, panic beginning to swirl amid the hues of brown. Clara was breathing rapidly, her chest so tight she felt like she was going to faint.

"Clara," he repeated her name and she sat there, frozen except for the trembling of her limbs. "Please let me explain," Liam cooed softly, stepping away from the door and padding towards where she was at the desk. A loud clasp of thunder suddenly boomed outside the window, heavy rain beginning to fall from the dark clouds.

"What is there to explain?" she practically choked, keeping the book locked in her arms as she stood up, her body stiff and her spine soaking in her shuddering. The smell of his cologne flooded her nostrils when he came closer to her, and for the first time, Clara wished to be far, far away from her friend with the soft brown eyes.

"So much, angel," he murmured, eyes studying her face to gauge how she was feeling. Clara failed to look back at him, her gaze fixed on the wall as the spurs in her mind were already turning. She could see from the corner of her vision that Liam was setting the bag of food down on the desk, and then his hand reached for her arm. She flinched instinctively.

"Clara," Liam's voice was soft and would have been comforting if she hadn't just seen his extensive hobby. "You know I love you."

She scoffed through her tears and began to shake her head. "This isn't love, Liam. This is a goddamned obsession that you have. You need help."

"Clara," he urged. "Can you blame me? You are the most beautiful and amazing girl in the whole world. You-"

"Stop."

"-mean everything to me. I care about you so much."

Clara felt rage bubble in her stomach and she finally glared at him through her stinging vision. "Care about me? You have been stalking me! For years! I thought you were my friend a-and you have been doing this behind my back the entire time."

"We are friends," Liam looked at her with a pained expression. "Clara, you are my best friend."

"Shut up," she growled and stepped away from him, moving towards the bed where she had laid her phone down. She tucked the book under her arm and gulped before facing Liam again, her hand hanging behind her back so she could reach for her phone discreetly.

"You took pictures of me and Harry," Clara seethed. "How did you even know where he lived?"

Liam bit at his lip, eyes full of shame from the harsh tone of her voice. "I followed you," he admitted quietly.

Clara's hand latched around the device. Her eyes briefly glanced to her side where she held the phone out for a short second, and swiped her thumb over the screen. Even in her shocked and frightened state, Clara could think clearly about what she needed to do.

"You followed me?" she sputtered, looking back at him as though she hadn't done anything, her voice cracking from her anger. "How much did you see Liam?"

He stared at his feet and fumbled with his fingers while Clara looked down behind her back at her phone once more. "Well... the window to his room wasn't hard to find. I saw what I wanted to see."

"Why would you want to see that? If you want me so bad, then why did you want to see me be with someone else?"

Liam looked back up at her and cracked a faint, playful smile. "I have needs, Clara."

She made a disgusted grunt and tried to rid the images that were flooding her mind. Clara felt the need to throw up everything she had eaten for the past two days- this was a worse feeling than when Harry's neighbor had told her of his injury. His injury.

"Tell me everything," Clara demanded, trying to keep the waver out of her voice. "I swear to God, Liam-"

"Okay, okay," he agreed, nodding his head and moving closer to her. "Just please listen. I have never done anything to hurt you, you know that. Everything I do is for you."

She wanted to scream at him that he was hurting her right now. She wanted to ask how everything he did was for her, when it had all obviously been to feed his own colossal obsession. But she didn't. She needed to be quiet and let him speak. In the short moments that his gaze hadn't been on her, Clara had had enough time to press record.

When Clara remained silent except for the heavy breaths that were a result of her holding back the potential sobs, Liam continued with that soft, innocent voice of his.

"I didn't even know you were seeing him until you told me," he started, his eyes staring into her frightened ones. "Remember? You told me over the phone that you were late to our dinner because you were hanging out with a guy. I knew right away that you were more than just friends, Clara. I have seen you be in enough relationships to know that you're never just friends with them."

Clara's nostrils flared as she listened, but not a word tumbled from her salty lips.

"I don't mind you having boyfriends. I understand that you have needs, too. And you're so young and confused- I wanted to give you time to realize what you truly wanted. You were going to figure out eventually after you got tired with all of them that you wanted me. I mean, why wouldn't you? I have been there for you through everything and I know everything about you. I love you more than anyone else could, Clara. I love your hair and your eyes and your body," Clara recalled the pictures of her naked body and she wanted to slap him, "And your personality, too. I love how smart you are and how caring and gentle you can be. You really are the perfect human being." He wasn't lying; the love was clear in his eyes but it was overpowered by something in his mind that wasn't quite right. Clara could see that now.

"He doesn't love you, though," Liam continued, a bitterness in his voice as he brought up Harry. "He has said that to you himself. He is horrible, Clara. I can handle the other guys you've been with, but this one is a dangerous criminal and he is always so rough with you." Liam shook his head and did that thing that Harry had noted about his hands, clenching them tightly to relieve his growing anger. "You need someone who is gentle and can treat you the way you deserve."

"Harry is gentle with me sometimes," Clara couldn't help but argue. "He is good to me, Liam. If you have been watching us this whole fucking time then you would know that."

Liam's eyes were wide with defiance. "No, Clara. You're just blinded by your lust for him. I heard you tell him you love him- he didn't say it back, did he?"

Her face fell as the reminder was shoved at her. Harry didn't love her. Clara felt more tears slip down the curve of her cheek and she had to fight back the hurt in her heart, shaking her head after a moment.

"Maybe he hasn't said it, but I know he cares for me," she whispered. "And it's not your place to tell me who I do and do not love. I love him with every cell in my body-"

"You don't," Liam raised his voice slightly and his hands went to his tuft of hair. "He isn't good for you. He is manipulating you and distracting you from what you really want, Clara. How can you not see it?!"

Clara fought back the angry words that were begging to fly from her mouth, remembering the phone in her hand. She licked her dry lips. "It was you, wasn't it?" Clara questioned quietly. Liam's eyes darted around and filled with guilt.

"You tried to kill him," Clara continued, lips trembling. "How could you? I defended you!"

"I didn't mean to," he said quickly. His hands were running through his hair and he was now pacing in short circles, frenzied. "I didn't want to kill him, you have to believe me. I just wanted to get rid of him because I want you to get what you deserve, and he isn't it. I don't know why..." He looked back up at her, his footsteps stopping. "I don't know why I did it, Clara. My anger took over me, I'm sorry. You have to believe me. I just wanted to be there for you."

"You shot him," Clara cried. "You shot his fucking leg and he could have bled to death! You saw him in the hospital, you saw what you did! He is going to have to live with that for the rest of his life and it is all because of you. Don't you dare fucking say that you did that for me because you know goddamned well how much I have been hurting the last day, worried out of my mind!"

"I know, but you'll get over it. It's not like he's dead," Liam said, and the blank tone of his voice reminded her of Harry's. He really just didn't care about hurting some dangerous criminal, not in the way that he cared about her. Clara was all he saw.

"You're wrong," Clara tapped her thumb against the button on her phone to stop recording and slipped it in her back pocket. He had already admitted to everything, that's all she needed. "I will never get over him."

Clara kept the diary tight in her grasp as she turned from him and hurried to the door. Her hand shook as she twisted the knob quickly and with angst pulsing through her veins, mixing with adrenaline, she opened the door. Before she could slip through it, a hand pressed into the wood and forcefully slammed it shut. Clara squeaked in fear and turned around only to be encaged by his arms, which were locked on either side of her. His face was frantic and worried as he stared down at Clara with those round eyes of his.

"Where are you going?" he whispered, reaching his hand up to caress her cheek, thumb collecting a fallen tear drop. Clara wanted to smack his hand away, hating the way his touch felt now that she knew that he was not as innocent as she had tried to tell Harry.

"Away from you," Clara spat.

He frowned. "You're overreacting, sweetheart. Please just stay here and we can..." He ducked his head down and his lips brushed against hers, tasting the salty tears on them. Clara's breath hitched in her throat as the color from her face drained. "Talk this out," Liam finished in a whisper before moving his hand to cup her waist. Clara screamed against his mouth and, desperate to get away from him, sunk her teeth into his plump lip, drawing the metallic taste of blood to both of their mouths. Liam pulled away, wincing as he brushed his fingertips against the wound she had given him.

"Clara-"

She raised her knee into the apex of his thighs, eliciting a painful groan to escape his wounded lips. When he dropped his arms down to cup the area, Clara hastily reached for the lamp on the bedside table and without hesitation, her fear making decisions for her, she thrashed it against his head. Liam groaned again and whimpered her name before she saw crimson liquid drip onto the rug. The splintered lamp was in pieces at their feet as Liam stumbled back against the bed and his eyes fell shut. He was unconscious.

Sucking in a labored breath, she tore her gaze away from the gash on his head which had been from her doing, and turned back around to open the door. She flew down the fleet of stairs, not caring that she had left her purse in his room- she had her phone with the recording on it, and the book with all the pictures. That was all she cared about as she ran outside, bare-footed against the cold, wet concrete. The thunder had not let up and the heavy rain instantly soaked her thin blouse and long hair, but it seemed like nothing compared to the shock and disgust that was polluting her blood. She still couldn't believe it, even as she ran all the way to the main street where she called to the first cab that passed by.

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Okay now back to Harry lol

3 more parts and then an epilogue 💕 Question: I have them mostly written so would you want me to update every few days, or once a week so it doesn't end too fast?