(No Control | Holding Me Ransom - 15 - Your Words Cut Like Knives)

"What the fųck are you playing at?" I hiss, and on the other end of the phone I hear a gasp.

"Wh - what do you mean?" she asks, her voice high-pitched and squeaky. The familiar sound makes my heart constrict.

"You fuckıng kissed Louis?!" I yell.

"Harry," she begs, but I cut her off.

"Don't Harry me! How could you? How fuckıng could you?! Louis, of all people! What...? How...?"

I'm actually hyperventilating. My whole body is shaking with untamed rage.

"Please, just let me explain," she pleads, and I can now hear the beginnings of tears in her voice.

Good. Let her cry. Let her feel this pain, my pain, that she has inflicted.

"Go on then! Explain! Talk your way out of this one!" I bellow.

Here it comes, the 'I was just leaning towards him' bullshit.

I wait, my whole world depending on what she says next. I realise I want her to tell me it was a trick of the light. I want the pictures to be fake.

I hate myself for this.

"We were just talking... about you," she says, her voice wavering, "... and... and I got upset, a bit, and he gave me a hug and was being really sweet, and he said I wouldn't have any trouble finding anyone else, and I just... I just gave him a quick peck on impulse - "

I feel like I've been punched.

"What the fucķ?!" I shout, whirling around to look at Louis. He closes his eyes and drops his head forward. He knows the game is up.

"I'm sorry," she offers, her voice barely above a whisper.

"He said it was a trick of the light!" I thunder. "He said nothing happened! He fuckıng lied, the fucķing snake. I am gonna have him for this!"

I feel sick. As much as I was convinced they were guilty, I think a little part of me stuck to the belief that she wouldn't actually do this to me. Or maybe it was just hope.

I hate her for hurting me like this.

Niall has stood up now, in front of Louis, shielding him from me. I want to laugh. I am so furious right now that if I really wanted to hit Louis, a little squirt like Niall couldn't stop me.

"What do you mean, a trick of the light?" Jess is asking, and I am distracted for a second.

Has she not seen the pictures? Does she not realise the whole world knows what they did?

"You mean you don't know?" I give a harsh laugh. "You haven't seen?"

"Seen what?" she asks, and I take great pleasure in delivering the next few lines.

"You're all over the internet. You and Louis," I inform her. "Some pap with a long-range camera got a picture of you. It's not a very clear picture, but it's pretty obvious what you're doing."

Let's see how her whole world falls apart now. Little Miss Fucking Perfect.

"You know the worst of it?" I sneer, without waiting for her reaction. "A little part of me believed Louis when he said nothing happened. He said you were just leaning towards him, and it was like the time they printed a picture of you holding hands with that guy that turned out to be your brother - just clever photography." I laugh sadly, thinking how I actually can't trust anyone at all. "Of all the people to betray me, you were the last person I would have imagined. What is it with people suddenly revealing their true colours? Seems to be a familiar theme for me lately."

I know I sound bitter and pathetic, but I'm past caring. Nadine, Sara, Jess... they're all the same. What's next? Kendall selling a story about me?

Louis has the decency to put his head in his hands in shame.

"Harry," Niall begins, sympathetically, but I turn my back on both of them.

"Harry, you have to believe me, it was just a peck, I swear," Jess is saying. "Louis pulled away immediately and told me I had crossed the line. I was mortified, it was so embarrassing. I don't know what I was thinking. I was really drunk. And sad."

"You weren't that sad!" I rage at her, furious again, and deliberately ignoring her painting Louis as the good guy in all of this. "You were about to kiss Gary two minutes later on the dancefloor! What were you trying to do, see how many guys you could pull in the space of one evening? There's a name for people like that - "

"Woah, what the fucķ?" she demands, cutting me off, which is probably a good thing. "I don't think you're in any position to be calling anyone names right now, do you?!"

How she has the audacity to throw that in my face right now is beyond me.

"The shıt you've given me!" I rant. "You are so unbelievably two faced it's untrue. It's almost funny! Almost."

I would laugh again, if I didn't want to cry.

"How dare you!" she screams at me. "One peck that was unreciprocated while I am not in a relationship with anyone does not put me in the same category as you! You fuckeď someone else while we were together! Do not try and tar me with that same brush, you bastard."

Her words wash over me like water off a duck's back. I'm finally immune to the hurt, it seems.

"Fuckıng Louis," I spit, looking over at the miserable little prick. "Why? Why him? No - don't answer that, there's no need. I know why."

I have a feeling I'm going to regret this, but I can't stop the words pouring out of my mouth.

"You had the hots for him since day one," I accuse. "Did you think I was blind or something? Constantly mooning over him, giving him puppy dog eyes -"

"What?! No I wasn't!" she interrupts, but I ignore her. It feels good to be letting this anger out.

"- it was pathetic!" I scoff. "It was so damn obvious! And he played on it, flirted with you, encouraged you-"

"Harry!" she pleads with me. "This is getting blown way out of proportion! Louis was right - nothing happened. It was a split second mistake. Don't let this ruin your friendship with him. I made the move and he pulled away. He hasn't done anything wrong."

There are so many things I want to scream at her, I actually don't know where to start.

"He's off limits!" I yell, kicking the sofa furiously. "He's off limits to you and you are off limits to him! There are rules! You don't kiss your friend's ex, or your ex's friend!"

I can't believe we are even having this conversation. It is my worst nightmare come true.

"Why the hell do you care anyway?!" she demands. "It's none of your business who I kiss! You have no right to be speaking to me like this, to be saying any of this stuff to me! You gave up that right when you stuck your dıck in fucķing Pedro Pony."

Well guess what, that card is null and void now, after this. I'm barely listening anyway.

"And to think we ended up... after you... and him..." I realise, suddenly nauseous again.

I kissed her, touched her, made love to her, after she'd locked lips with that little rat who can't keep it in his pants. Was she comparing us? Marking us out of ten?

"That was a mistake too," she hurls, bitterly, and out of everything she has thrown at me in the past couple of minutes, this one hits home. "I never should have given in to you. I was drunk and stupid, and I wasn't thinking straight. I thought you wanted to talk, not take me to bed. More fool me for thinking you actually gave a damn about me, ever. I was only ever a toy to you, wasn't I? A toy ready to be cast aside when a newer, more up to date model came along. Pardon the pun."

That is ridiculous. To suggest she meant nothing to me is just plain idiotic.

"Don't be stupid," I snap, nastily. "And don't start the self-pity. It doesn't suit you."

"Fucķ you," she replies, her voice trembling. "I'm not listening to any more of this. I don't have to justify myself to you anymore. You're nothing to me. You're just a mistake I'm trying to forget. Leave me the fucķ alone and move on with your life."

I am momentarily silenced by her words, as though tiny spears have penetrated my aura of fury and pierced my heart. I hesitate, trying to formulate a response but nothing comes.

You're nothing to me. You're just a mistake I'm trying to forget.

Fuck.

I realise neither of us have spoken in a while, and there is no longer even the sound of her breathing furiously. I pull my phone away from my ear and look at the screen. She has cut me off.

The lounge is completely silent; deafeningly silent. I drop my phone onto the sofa in front of me and flop down next to it, empty and deflated. I am no longer angry. I am just sad.

"Harry," Niall says softly, from next to me, and the pity in his tone brings a lump to my throat.

"Don't," I wobble, my lip trembling, and he sits down next to me and throws one arm around my shoulders.

I stare down at the floor, clenching my jaw in an attempt to control my emotions. I don't know what is happening to me. I have so much anger inside me that surfaces out of nowhere, and then dissipates as quickly as it came, usually to be replaced by an overwhelming sadness that creeps into every cell, every fibre, every atom of my being.

"Mate, I'm worried about you," Niall says tentatively, after a minute.

Yeah, well that makes two of us.

"I've never seen this kind of anger from you, man," he continues, once he has realised I am not shooting him down. "This isn't you. I don't know who this is, but... it isn't you."

"I know," I mumble, sniffing and wiping my face with my sleeve.

"Maybe... maybe you should talk to someone," he suggests.

"Like who?" I interrupt, bitterly. "They all let me down eventually. I can't trust anyone anymore."

"I mean someone who can help," he says, uncomfortably. "Like, someone with the power to see you through this. I don't want you to end up in a bad place..." He trails off awkwardly and stares up at the wall.

I get it. He thinks I'm losing it. Maybe he's not wrong.

"You mean like a counsellor?" I sigh.

"Well... yeah," he admits. "It might help, even if it's just a way for you to come to terms with Nadine's evil plan. I dunno," he finishes with a shrug.

"Thanks," I mutter, and he thumps me gently between my shoulder blades a couple of times, to inject some manliness into the situation.

He starts to say something, then stops, then opens his mouth again.

"Spit it out," I say, with a roll of my eyes.

"Don't you think... maybe you were a bit hard on Jess?"

I stare at my feet again. Once I'd unleashed my anger I had expected to feel better, but I don't. I feel worse, knowing I have upset her again. Now I've calmed down a bit, I am starting to rationalise it all. Yes, she kissed Louis, but what I did was far worse. It isn't even in the same league. And if what she said was true, if Louis really did knock her back...

I glance over at him. He is tapping away on his phone, one leg bent at the knee with his ankle resting on his other leg, jiggling his foot. He looks a little abashed. But why wasn't he just honest with me? Why did he lie to my face?

I sigh and tilt my head back to stare at the ceiling instead.

Wasn't the whole point of yesterday to tell Jess the truth about everything? How did we get to this point - chanelling anger and hatred towards each other, the morning after making love so gently? This whole situation is unfathomable. 'Mess' doesn't even come close to describing it.

I shouldn't have shouted at her like I did. I should have let her speak, explain. I don't know how to fix this, any of this. I'm frightened we are broken beyond repair and I don't know if I can deal with that. I need to stay away from her, but I don't know if I can.

My thoughts are interrupted by my phone ringing. Niall and I both look down at it, and my heart lurches when I see Jess's name on my screen. Niall nudges me, his eyes wide. "Don't fucķ this up, Harry," he murmurs, before getting up and walking back to Louis.

I can't believe she's calling me. Maybe there is hope after all.

I take a deep breath. My palms are slick with sweat.

"Jess?" I answer softly, my heart pounding.

"You sly, underhand, lying piece of shıt," she spits, hatefully, and my stomach drops to my shoes.

I can't articulate a response, but she doesn't wait for one anyway.

"Making out like I'm two-faced, when the whole time you were setting me up to save your own skin," she growls. "You must have thought you'd hit the jackpot last night when I agreed to leave Libertine with you! You couldn't have planned it any better could you?"

What?

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

"All those paps just waiting to take pictures of us leaving together...," she hisses. "Well, congratulations, Harry. You won. Everyone's now doubting you boned the rake in New York, and even better, everyone's hating me for kissing your bandmate. I'm Perrie Edwards mark two aren't I? Being blamed for causing a rift in the band while you walk away with your image untarnished. If I didn't have my phone in my hand right now I'd give you a round of applause. You played a blinder. Well done."

My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth. No words will come. I am in shock.

"And," she emphasises, "you got a shag out of it too. God, you're good. You fit in frighteningly well in Karen's manipulative, superficial world. You were right to tell me I would never have belonged there. I would never have done anything like this to you, or anyone for that matter. I wouldn't do this to my worst enemy!"

Ouch.

"I never really knew you, did I?" she breathes. "You sucked me in with your charming smile and your well chosen words, but you kept the real Harry hidden from me. Talk about mis sold! Your damn management company watched my social media accounts, knew the ins and outs of our relationship without my consent and threatened to silence me when I didn't sign anything legal. I didn't stand a chance. We didn't stand a chance."

I'm trembling. But words still fail me. I can't keep up with the things she is saying to me, about me, about us.

"But you know what? Your infidelity was actually a blessing in disguise. I'd take this hurt ten times over if it means I'm saved from any more of your shıt in the future."

She delivers this last line with pure venom, and it jolts me from my stupor. I'm not taking this anymore. I'm done. She thinks she never knew the real me? How much more hurt can I take? Does anyone else want to take a pop at me while we're at it?

I can feel myself mentally closing down from her and going into self-preservation mode.

"Have you got nothing to say?!" she screams, panting.

"What else is there to say?" I hear myself reply, in a monotone. I know my disinterest will hurt her far more than anything I could say to her, and will cause her just as much pain as her hateful, barbed words have caused me. "You figured it out yourself. Of course it was a set up. Everything was a set up," I add bitterly. "Why are you telling me what I already know?"

Nadine in New York, Karen and the paps outside Libertine and my hotel... everything was a set up. Tell me something I don't already know.

"So you're not even denying it?!" she says in disbelief.

Why bother? Her opinion of me is clearly rock bottom anyway. And technically she's right - we were both set up.

"No, I'm not," I reply coldly. "You're not stupid; you're an intelligent girl and I'm not going to insult you any further by lying to you."

I glance up and Dale is waving us towards him. The jet is ready for us.

"I have to go," I say robotically. "We're about to board the plane. We play Helsinki tonight."

I am drained of all emotion.

"I... I...," she stumbles, and I can tell she wasn't expecting to hear these words from me. It has taken the wind right out of her sails. "What about Louis?" she asks, eventually.

I can not believe she has even asked about that little twerp. I say nothing, and grit my teeth.

"Don't hate him," she begs, softly. "He's a flirt, but he set me straight immediately. He would never have betrayed you like that. It was my fault, all of it. Don't let this come between you."

Why is she protecting him?

No - forget it. I don't want to know.

"Whatever," I reply, in bored tone. "I have to go."

"Fine. OK. Bye then," she says, and I can still hear the confusion in her voice.

"Bye," I reply shortly, and cut her off before she can say another word, or worse, I change my mind.

She was actually right, thinking about it. She didn't know me at all. For her to believe I would be so manipulative and self-serving proves that completely. 

I shove my phone in my pocket, pick up my bag and follow the others out of the private lounge to the departure gate, my legs trembling. I'm done. It's over. She's out of my life, and this time it's for good.