062

CATALINA 

Sporting the stained in blood, dirt, and exhaustion look, I finally lean on the brick wall of a bar's exterior. I inhale deeply, forcing my heavy eyes open. The street was lonely, especially at night. I've been roaming for hours, lost. Unsure of what to do, but I knew I had to find shelter, and that's exactly what I was going to do. I remember specifically the mafia that roams L.A. Being out here will be no good.

I'm assured for a moment that I've lost nothing. I refuse to believe my father, my sister, and my mother are dead. I throw aside any doubt that Harry's alive like Liam said. My worry only increases if I continue to think, so I shut my thoughts out for a moment. One which I lean off the brick wall and continue a path down the sidewalk in silence.

But night turns to daylight, and I've got nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run. I remember drifting off to sleep behind a dumpster, thinking about how I can't wait to escape everything. And by everything I mean my life that...always restricted from certain things. I've lived letting people casually take my life in their hands, and I've lacked the sense to fend for myself. To defend myself.

And it's ironic that now that I have nearly none of that; at this very moment, is when I figure that I want to change it all. So even though my lips are chapped, my throat is dry, I'm stained terribly in blood, and my bones ache, I get up. I grab the pistol that I've used to kill Roy, and I leave. I know those codes, and whatever their purpose was, is no longer my business. I gave them away, and to whom they shall land in, I hope for the best.

I walk down the sidewalk, and I look around. I've arrived at a parking lot, where I use the tiny bit of knowledge I have on cars to break into one, and hotwire it. My fearless approach to these things is not acknowledgable in my head. I just don't see it in myself yet. Hours later of driving and stopping along the road to sleep, I've arrived at a space center where they keep things locked entirely, and although people there give me their looks, at least I know one good thing about my father. That is his code the safe that keeps a good fortune of money.

Nevada makes me uncomfortable. I've been here many times, on trips with my dad. And I crossed my fingers that I didn't encounter anyone I know, or knows me. I'm doubtful, though, as I unlock my father's safe, and find the fortune he keeps inside. I sigh to myself, tension in my shoulders dropping. There's at least a million in here.

Where my father gets his money is not my business either. I tend to look away from these subjects. I only grab whatever there is and pour it into a backpack, one that I strap onto my back and lock the safe again. My lips press together as I hastily leave the area, going into the car that I have to dump before it's reported stolen.

I go to whatever nearest shop there is and grab clothes. Random things, necessities. I am haste to get away from the public eye. And as if sleep wasn't already haunting me, I run into a large amount of fatigue. I force myself awake to drive at least another couple of miles to Boulder City, Nevada to a hotel. I nearly fall asleep on the steering wheel before I even get help from the employees here. They ask no questions about my conditions, though they're weirded out to say the least.

"How long will you be staying?" The lady at the front desk questions politely. I'm staring off to space, unable to answer her for I didn't hear her. My thoughts were too loud. "Ma'm," she calls firmly.

I snap my eyes towards her and gulp. "Um...I'm sorry, what was that?"

"How long will you be staying?"

"I...I don't know. Just charge me for however long I stay," I tell her, and she slowly nods in understanding. I tap my fingers against the marbled counters, waiting impatiently for her to get the keys. I've registered with the name Cata Holland, because using my real name really puts me up there for recognition. I smile politely when the woman finally tosses me keys.

My room is at the very top of the lonely building, dropping all of my bags onto the bed. I resist the urge to just cry when I get into the shower, finally washing off all the dirt and disgust on my body. I stand there, letting the water drip onto my body in utter silence. My mind drifts off to Harry, and I bite the inside of my cheek at the feeling of a cry pushing up my throat. I can't cry. I just can't.

He's alive according to Liam, but how do I even know if that's true? How do I know anything anymore? I'm going to have to keep to myself, trust myself. If there's one thing I've learned, it is probably that in my life, no one can be trusted. The ones I did are gone in theory.

I don't know how I got into the bed, towel wrapped around me and drying hair all over the white sheets, but I wake up in that position. I look to a clock and notice I've slept almost thirteen hours, it being close to noon by now. I rub my eyes and yawn, grabbing the towel and pulling it off of me.

Once I'm dressed in black pants and a white t-shirt that was a size too small unfortunately, I grab the pistol I've placed on the bedside table and check for now many bullets it has. Plenty enough for me or for whatever use I'd need it.

I shove it in my backpack and strap it on before heading out. I drive to the nearest electronic shop, on my way guessing. I purchase a phone and a card that allows me to make a phone call, my lips pursed as I drive to a cafe, and sit outside. Before I'm even waited on, I nervously dial a phone number very well known to me.

"Hello?" Her sweet voice answers, unsure of who she's speaking with.

I smile and raspily whisper, "Hey, grandma. It's Catalina. How's England? How's...Paige doing?"

"Catalina, sweetheart!" She gasps lovingly. "Hi, oh my goodness. Sweetie...everything's good. Everything is great. Paige is fine. Everything is just going well. But you...Catalina, how are things with you? You haven't called in forever."

Relief floods over me and I swirl a thin, black straw into my hot coffee, faint smile on my lips. Paige is alive. That means that son of a bitch, Fray, lied to me. What else could he have been lying about, I don't know. "I'm...doing fine. Could be better," I respond quietly.

She sighs, a caring tone as she gently states, "Darling, you can come here anytime you want. Stay here with me...if your father wants you to, that is. I know how he is. So overprotective about his oldest child. But...tuh...you can come over here and relax. We can have fun and Paige...I know she misses her sister. I can see it, but she's a tough one. Never wants to look emotional."

I chuckle just as the waiter comes by with my carefully made turkey sandwich. I signal him a thank you while I say, "Grandma, that's actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I think I'm going to stay with you. In England."

I can hear her happy intake of breath. "Really? That's great! Just know I'll gladly take you in, and we'll have a blast. I've been trying to stay hip for Paige...but...it seems it's not working."

Smiling, I huff, "It's just because no one is hip enough for Paige."

"Look at you. Already defending me," she mumbles playfully. "Anyway, any news?"

Woo, if only she knew. "Uh...no not really. I just wanted to call and check up on you guys. I know I've been slacking at that."

"No worries, sweetie. At least you took time. And when will you be coming to England?"

I hum. "It's September eighth...and the twentieth of November is that little show dad goes to in Vegas. And well...I still have something to take care of."

"Okay. Just call whenever you're coming. I've got plenty of room."

"Thanks, Grandma."

Eventually, I finish my food with a thankful goodbye to the waiter. I leave a generous tip, then continue to drive around, furthering into city perimeter, until I'm surrounded by countless stores. If I'm going to blend in at my father's friend's annual party that he so attends every year, I better dress accordingly.

I roam stores of gowns in every color, every form and style until I eventually, as expected, pick the one I enjoyed the most. My intentions at the party are to once and for all spill whatever I've wanted to say to my father, and get over it. I don't want this life that chokes me endlessly, and I have no choice but to let it. Not anymore. I'm not going to stand for it.

At last, I arrive back at the hotel, laying out the gown I bought and giving it one look before hanging it in the closet. For the next week or so, I spend time looking for things to do. Things like signing up for a kickboxing class, spending money on necessities, and a computer to do some research. All the while, though, my thoughts about Harry never subside.

HARRY 

I spend endless hours trying to find her. Every tiny detail, I overanalyze with stress and uncertainty. I've done so for weeks now, and I can only admit that I can't give up. No matter the sympathetic looks I'm starting to get from the owner of a gift shop who knows I'm looking for whatever it is that I need, and I can't find.

"Listen, Harry," Savannah sighs, taking a seat beside me on a bench near a coffee shop. She's been following me around, insisting to help me, though I know her interest is nowhere near that. Translucent personality, and I dislike the ability to see her irritating character. "It's been a while...and...I don't really think --"

"Could you shut up, already?" I spit bitterly, clenching my jaw. "I don't know why you insist on helping me. You are such an annoying little pest, following me around." I'm careless with my words, and I do not care.

Savannah inhales deeply. "I was only trying to help. But...that's not getting anywhere."

"Nothing will," I tell her bluntly, leaning my elbows onto my thighs, hands over my face in distress. "I just need to find her. Don't care how long it's gonna take. I need to find her."

"She could be dead," she says as if I won't react.

But, I do. I avert my eyes up to her, feeling an urge to make her disappear into thin air with my mind, but I can't. My eyes squint and careless of the people around, I loudly snap, "Get the fuck away from me, or I'll do something I'll regret."

"And do you really think I'm scared of you?" Savannah snickers. "I'm not like your dead little girlfriend. I don't count on anyone to survive. Pathetic, really."

My nostrils flare, and I can't believe the tension that makes my body stiff, and the anger that makes my face flush incredibly red. But before I can snap, she leaves. She just walks off and leaves, leaving me with all this pent up anger. I tighten my fists and take a deep breath, looking out to the streets with even larger amounts of distress.

Eventually I make it back to the grand perimeter Louis calls his temporary home, right before he's going home. I walk in, only to hear Louis shouting about his bags and one particular bag that holds a present he bought for his wife. A very delicate present.

His bright blue eyes meet with mine after he's done almost shooting one of his guys. He frowns and asks, "Any news on your girl?"

I shake my head quietly.

Louis nods. "Well, I'm heading back to England tonight. You can...keep this place if you want."

"You have generosity? That's...inaccurate," I remark.

The psycho stares nonchalantly for a second, lips pressed together before he hastily reminds, "I could and will kill you. Generosity isn't the word. Pity is."

My jaw clenches, and then I'm immediately reminded of who he truly is. A witty motherfucker who's more nonchalantly cruel than he is funny. I head upstairs, ignoring when the door is shut and there is silence for once. Louis is gone back to England with all his team, and I'm here on my own ready to embark on a lonely road. One that's been destined for me.

I end up in the shower for hours, before restlessly lying on a bed that consists of cold sheets and pillows. In a position where I'd fall asleep so fast, I can't. I've become insomniac with the idea of finding Cata. But, to my surprise, in hours, I begin to feel the callings of exhaustion and sleep.

In my sleeping conscience, I think of her. Of the pressure I feel on my lap when she sits there, saying something utterly redundant, though I listen and eventually end up kissing her. Her lips are so soft, that I swore I could feel them on my neck. Her small hands touching down my chest, tenderly sucking the skin at my neck and trailing one of her hands down. Until she reaches my crotch, teasingly slipping her hands over my boxers.

But, this is when I'm stunned and half asleep, eyes tired before I register the body over mine. Savannah. A breathless grunt leaves my lips, in utter anger, but before I can push her off of me, she continues to kiss at my neck and murmurs, "Shh, just relax." Her hand wraps around me, the cloth of my boxers the only thing between her hand and my dick.

She's breathless as she kisses over my jaw, and just before she gets to my lips, she squeezes her hand over me. My lips part and I briefly inhale sharply, though my instincts kick in. She's not Cata.

I firmly jab my elbow into her stomach, and she gasps in shock from my force. My hands grip her arms, pinning them to the wall I've dragged both her and myself to. Her brown eyes are wide with shock, chest rising and falling rapidly while mine does the same.

"Are you out of your bloody mind?" I snap lowly, tightening my grip on her arms. She grimaces as a result. Unable to speak, she gulps and remains silent. "Get. Out." I spit furiously. My hands let go of her, and she doesn't move. Upon this, I shout, "Get out!"

Savannah narrows her eyes and whispers, "You're obsessed with her."

"I love her," I state, jaw tightly clenched. "And that means I don't want you or your insufferable, bitchy attitude. So...don't make me repeat myself...again."

She huffs and shakes her head, walking out of the room. I slam the door shut behind her, hearing the loud bang that came afterwards. I lock it and groan, running my hands through my hair. I miss my baby girl. She's not dead, and I know it. Too smart for that. I need to find her before I end up insane.

n. say 'I' if you've ever felt an insane urge for a character to die in a novel/movie.

I

Anyways, thanks for reading! Predictions?

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