chapter 10

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height

play the song when I ask you to!
the lyrics kinda connect with Amber's life and the way she's feeling right now, so pay more attention to them, please!!!

tw: some paragraphs below involve a faint description of blood, which could be disturbing to others.

^^ later on, this story's going to contain much darker scenes than that, so if you're already uncomfortable, I'd suggest you don't continue reading this story <3

***

"They don't know that we know they know we know," I hear Phoebe Buffay's voice ring through the TV in my bedroom, as I roll on the other side of my bed, flipping the pillow to its other side.

I let out a huge huff before turning my head to the clock on the nightstand reflecting the symbols 1:43pm. Great, I've spent 7 hours tossing and turning.

I got home a little past 6am, immediately showering and washing away the gross airplane stench, then cuddled up in my bed ready to sleep, but spent the next two hours flipping around in my bedsheets, as I felt uneasy about what happened at the airport. Just the way they touched me formed a weird pit in my stomach I couldn't quite get rid of.

So I went and showered for the second time, tiredly trying to scrub away the feeling of the touches, my skin getting red in some spots from the brutal force I was applying.

As the next hour passed, I got in bed, eventually falling asleep, but woke up screaming from the nightmares I should be used to by now. So I got in the shower for the third time, which at this point seems like a waste of water, washing away the sweat along with the dreams laced with the vivid flashbacks of that night.

The night that ruined my whole fucking life.

I tried to take in the feeling of the small water droplets sliding down my skin, as I found myself frantically scrubbing my hands again, just like I did that night.

Every time I closed my eyes for just a second, I saw myself in the car with him again, my hand tightly clutching the pocket knife with crimson red tainting it. I still could feel his nails digging into my upper arms, as his shocked features looked down at the sharp object driven into his stomach.

God, I'm a fucking murderer. 

I tried to blink away the bloody memories, kneeling on the cold tiles below the showerhead, the freezing water pouring onto me, totally not helping with the state of my hyperventilation, my shallow breaths fighting their way in and out of my lungs, as I kept looking down at my hands and wondered if the blood on them is real or not, trying my best not to throw up at the thought of it all.

The ringing in my ears started to turn into voices, and I had to press my hands onto the sides of my head in hopes to stop my ex-boyfriend Reece's harsh words, "Well maybe if you hadn't worn that slutty dress like the fucking cunt you are, none of this would've happened," hauntingly lingering in my mind.

Once I felt completely drained, I got out of the shower totally emotionless, acting as if nothing had happened, and stood in front of the mirror, trying to understand what person I'm gazing at.

After a few minutes of just standing there, I nonchalantly picked up the hairbrush from the counter and brushed my hair roughly, nearly ripping it out to the point I felt tears pricking in the corner of my eyes from each sharp groom, as I looked in the mirror with no expression, the black mascara streaks tainting my cheeks. Who knows, maybe I just wanted to feel something, and pain was the only thing I knew how to feel.

So here I am, watching Friends, wanting to feel some emotion, only to be more disappointed in myself for hoping I would've cracked a smile for at least one scene. Instead, I pathetically feel nothing.

I had the urge to call in sick and skip my shift at the cafe, but since there's only a week left, I'd feel guilty for not showing up for my last days there.

My ring of my phone brings me out of the deep state of thoughts, so I groan before lifting the device up and squint to read the text message flashing brightly on the screen.

Chloe:
1:44pm
*one link attachment*
???????

I open the Twitter link my friend Chloe sent me, to see pictures of me, Harry and the band at the airport taken by the obnoxious paparazzi, and some other photos, which I'm assuming are taken by fans, of me holding the flowers I bought for myself in Camden Market, walking next to Harry, as we both have smiles lingering on our features.

I scroll down to read the article attached next to the photos.

•••
Harry Styles' fans are LOSING THEIR MINDS after this week's events!

Harry Styles is officially a solo artist after dropping his debut single Sign Of The Times, showing off his vocal skills and songwriting expertise!
We're all curious to hear him prove himself performing this song on Saturday Night Live on April 15th!

Just when we thought this week couldn't get any crazier, a reliable source tells us they saw Victoria's Secret model Barbara Palvin leaving his house on April 4th, looking very flustered!
"They had a wild night," the source reveals, leaving it up to our steamy interpretations.

Later the same week, Mr. Styles allegedly went on a business trip to London, bringing a new girl with him! He even got her yellow flowers!!!
View the fan-taken pictures above to see her carrying the daffodils around Camden's streets!

Spoiler alert! The mysterious girl turns out to be the record-breaking football player Reece McCarthy's ex-girlfriend Amber Easton, leaving fans speechless! As Reece commented months ago, the couple broke up because Amber 'broke his trust'!
Could that mean she's a cheater? Would she be a good influence on Harry, then?

Fans speculate she might be using Styles for his fame and money, but which romance are you rooting for?
#TeamBarbara or #TeamAmber ?
•••

I close the article, the Twitter page filled with comments appearing about it instead, as I scroll to the ones I'm tagged in to see if somebody actually believes we're dating. That doesn't even make any sense!

tpwkxxhazzy: This is a joke, right?

larryxxforever: Please, their friendship isn't even as big as her thighs.

xkennyjennylove: Guys chill, Harry dates only models.

hxrryfan5009: Let's just hope her personality is better than her looks LOL

hazzlovesellie: WHORE!

As I read all the comments pointed at me, I suddenly have the urge to throw my phone across the room, but instead, I just close the app and rub my hands frustratingly on my face.

Good-fucking-morning to me.

What the hell? I'm just working with him, why am I already considered a whore?

I try not to make the other comments get to my head, so I make myself some daily tea, getting ready for my shift. I throw on a simple hoodie and ripped jeans, feeling a bit more self-conscious than usual for some reason. Do I really look that bad?

~~~

The whole walk to the cafe for my shift went by in a blink. Do you know that feeling where you just seem like you're floating? Kinda like you're not in control of your actions, because you're stuck in a routine? That's how it felt like the majority of the day having to please everyone.

As the evening's dark tones set outside, and the dim lights above me flicker at times, I hold a tray in my left hand, gently placing two coffees on it. I make my way to a couple in their mid-thirties, taking in their extravagant outfits; the man looks a bit intimidating in his black suit sitting the opposite of the lady in her black pantsuit, sunglasses perched on top of her head, creating a closed-off vibe. Rich people. Why do they have to always show off?

Once I'm close enough to their table, I softly put one cup of espresso in front of the man, my hands shaking immensely, like they always do after sleepless nights, as he doesn't even dare to make eye contact with me. When I'm halfway done placing the other coffee cup in front of the lady, a loud ring startles me from another customer's phone, so I disgracefully spill the coffee all over the lady's bag.

"Son of a bitch! How did you even get hired for this job? That's a 10'000 dollar bag you just spilled coffee all over!" the man stands up, spitting the harsh words in my face.

I turn to the woman who has an offended look on her face and ask desperately, "Miss, I'm incredibly sorry, it's a leather bag, maybe we can go and try to clean it off in the washrooms, while it hasn't soaked in yet?"

"This is absurd! You, young lady, will ha-" the man points his finger at me with dark eyes and a raised voice, continuing to belittle me, but gets interrupted by a presence behind me, as I'm holding back my tears.

"I'm sorry, I'm sure we can fix this problem, but this isn't a place where customers yell at the workers," Landon says in a monotone voice behind me, trying to smooth out this situation, as I give the lady a pleading look, before she stands up, and walks to the washroom beside to help the Birkin bag.

Once we're in the washroom, I start my pathetic apology fit, "I'm so sorry once again, this is the first time something like this has happened." I hand the lady some towels, as she twists the sink's red handle, letting a small stream flow from the tip, as I'm silently begging the coffee to disappear from the bag's surface. I can't afford a replacement bag for her.

"It's fine, really. Tom can be a bit harsh at times. We all have bad days. I can see you're having a rough one," she stops me from saying anything more, locking her eyes with mine through the mirror on the wall. She's probably referring to the red eyebags I couldn't hide, and the redness in my eyes from the morning's events. I look like a goddamn wreck.

"Thank you," I smile back, wetting the towel underneath the hot water stream, slightly wincing every time the scorching water makes contact with my trembling hands. They're still a bit red from the scrubbing I did in the shower today.

"See? Almost as good as new!" the lady affirms, giving me what seems like a pitiful smile, reaching for the door handle.

"I'm really sorry, once again," I plead before she opens the door.

She turns to me, offering me a warm smile, and says, "Keep your chin up, doll. Everything's gonna work out," before exiting the washroom, the sound of the closing door's hinges echoing in the space around me. For some reason, I feel like she was referring to something other than the bag's incident.

I twist the blue sink's handle, the cold water meeting my hands, before I lift them and make contact with my face, frantically rubbing them across it, the freezing water numbing me, as I try to wash away the embarrassment for the 4th time today.

I reach for a clean towel, dabbing my face with it, and get startled when the door opens once again, Landon appearing in the frame this time.

"Are you ok?" He takes a few steps toward me, as I can't do anything but force out a nod. He just shakes his head in disbelief and embraces me in a hug I didn't know I needed until now.

"I can't go back there if they're still here. The embarrassment is too much for me already," I falter, my words coming out a bit muffled in his shirt.

"I think they're gone. I already cleaned everything up, so don't worry. That man was an ass, and I really hope he doesn't come back," he says, letting me go from his embrace.

"Thanks," I sniffle, before we exit, me ending up at the cash register, him going home.

I check my phone for any new messages from anybody, ignoring the notifications popping up from the Twitter accounts tagging me in their posts.

I open the Messages app and see one new message appear on my screen.

Liv:
7:28pm
Lots of catching up to do! Let's meet up in 'Lotus' tonight! xoxo

I reply I'll be there, turning back to finish up the last things on my shift, but a familiar British accent stops me. I lift my gaze to see Harry and Sarah making their way to the glass vitrines in front of me.

He's wearing the same blue baseball cap he got back in London.

"Good evening... I'd like to have fusilli pasta," he jokes, as I try to fake a laugh as much as I can. He drops his smile once he realizes I'm not really laughing with him, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just having jetlag," I lie, theatrically rubbing my eyes in an effort to fake my tiredness, "You look great, by the way," I point to his hat, yawning to really sell my act.

"So... how was the cake you said you'd eat while having a dance party?" Sarah excitedly pops in, trying to get all the details.

Right, the cake.

"I... erm, forgot to buy it," I scratch the back of my head, starting to feel like I want to disappear, as I realize I haven't eaten anything at all today.

Sarah's features drop at my words, as a look of realization flashes through her eyes, "Oh bloody hell, Am, you read the damn articles, didn't you?" she points an accusing finger at me, as Harry scrunches up his eyebrows in a worried expression. Should I lie?

"Oh wait, I totally forgot! Congrats on the single release! I'm really proud of you! You can have anything on the menu to celebrate, it's on the house," I turn to Harry, trying to steer clear of the question.

"Thank you, I'll take that chocolate cake. The biggest piece, please," he points to the dessert sitting in the huge vitrine, so I take it out, and put it in front of him on the counter.

"Thanks, now eat it," he pushes it in my direction, taking me by surprise.

"What?" I stare down at the brown dessert in front of me, very confused about what's going on.

"As someone who's been in the spotlight for a very long time... I can assure you that whatever disgusting things they said on the internet about you are not true," he implies, literally opening my fist and putting the small pastry fork in my hand, "And as a friend... I'm telling you to eat the fucking cake," he closes my fist and holds his hand on top of mine until he's sure I'm holding the utensil in a tight grip.

For the first time today, a small smile lingers on my lips, as I turn away to retrieve two more forks, handing one to Sarah, and the other to Harry, sharing a deep look with him.

"The only thing missing right now is music," Sarah notes, being the first one to dig in the cake, me following after her, the chocolate taste filling my tastebuds, as I sigh in relief.

"Mmm, that reminds me," Harry reaches in his black hoodie's pocket, taking out an object, and putting it behind his back, preventing me from seeing it.

"I got you a gift," he continues, while Sarah keeps munching on the huge bite of the pastry, totally zoned out.

"A gift?" I ask, in between my chews.

"Yeah, well, you said you wanted to write more music, so I got you a journal to write the lyrics in," he reveals the object behind him, showing me a regular black and white composition book.

"I know it's simple and everything, but you could decorate it with stickers or something to make it more colourful," he says almost shyly, as I stand there in complete awe of the gesture.

"Thank you," is the only phrase I could force out at this moment, as a smile appears once again.

"Well, we better get going," Sarah says, eating the last bite of the cake, pointing to the people waiting at their tables for my assistance.

"I'll see you soon, yeah?" Harry excitedly asks me, already almost at the main exit, before I shout out a "yeah" in response.

"I expect a new song on your YouTube channel tonight!" Sarah cheers, closing the door behind both of them, not letting me say anything in return.

I tuck the notebook away under the counter, not wanting to spill anything on it, before I turn to the last customers of the night.

As my shift went by, I found myself writing in the gifted journal in between the orders. The lyrics flowing on the paper easily in black ink are some I've had on my mind for a while now.

With the added weight of today's events on my shoulders, I turned the page into a mix of scribbles, flicks, and notes, eventually creating lyrics for a full song.

After flipping the paper sign to "closed" on the cafe's window, I quickly do the final chores, my hands itching to play the instrument sitting in the corner of the room.

I finally make my way over to the piano, playing around with some melodies, then finally deciding on one, and improvising around it. Once I'm finally happy with it, I take the composition book and open the page to the scribbles of letters, the lyrics fitting perfectly with the arrangement I made.

After going over the song a few times, I pull out my phone, opening the camera app, and putting it on the music stand, the flipped chairs on the tables behind me showing up in the background. The dim lighting makes my appearance look a bit more presentable, so I hit the record button, saying my first words.

"Hiii! I know I haven't posted anything in months, but I'm trying to get back into it! I wrote a song about 10 minutes ago, and I hope you like it! It's called Lovely, " I exclaim, getting comfortable, and playing the first notes on the key block.

*play the song now*

"Thought I found a way
Thought I found a way out
But you never go away
So I guess I gotta stay now"

I sing, referring to the haunting flashbacks, which feel like a part of my night routine by now.

The most disappointing thing about the nightmares is the hope you have after well-slept nights. You can go months without having a terror, only to be brought back to even more vivid scenes. You think, 'Well, it's been a stress-free week, surely the nightmares are over,' only to wake up to your throat hurting from the deafening screams you let escape.

"Oh, I hope some day I'll make it out of here
Even if it takes all night or a hundred years
Need a place to hide, but I can't find one near
Wanna feel alive, outside I can't fight my fear"

I add a few ornaments to my arrangement, almost forgetting about the camera in front of me, as I close my eyes, letting the lyrics flow.

"Isn't it lovely, all alone
Heart made of glass, my mind of stone
Tear me to pieces, skin to bone
Hello, welcome home"

Now that I sing the lyrics out loud, I realize how fucking depressing they are, but they're what I'm feeling. Earlier, I felt so empty and emotionless, that the lyrics 'heart made of glass, my mind of stone' couldn't describe it better.

"Walkin' out of town
Lookin' for a better place
Something's on my mind
Always in my head space

But I know some day I'll make it out of here
Even if it takes all night or a hundred years
Need a place to hide, but I can't find one near
Wanna feel alive, outside I can't fight my fear"

I continue spilling emotions on the piano, weirdly finding comfort in each lyric I let past my lips. It's funny how earlier I couldn't bring myself to feel anything, now I'm filled with all kinds of sensations.

"Isn't it lovely, all alone
Heart made of glass, my mind of stone
Tear me to pieces, skin to

You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net