65 | Red

                                    

                                          
(1/2 of the double update!)


Harry Styles
The fucking annoying sound of my phone ringing woke me up from the light sleep I had finally managed to get after six days of not sleeping at all.
I forced myself to open my eyes, pissed at whoever had phoned me - I looked at the time on the clock beside the bed - four in the fucking morning. I groaned and pulled my hands down my face, a pounding headache from not being able to sleep.
I couldn't fucking sleep without Diana.
I couldn't fucking sleep knowing she wasn't here and knowing that she knew everything about me. Even if she had stayed here, but she slept in a different room then I'd be okay, because I'd get comfort from just knowing she was here and safe. But she needed space, and I had to accept that.
I still had that crushing fear in the back of my mind that she had left, and she was never going to come back.
I couldn't blame her, not even the slightest bit if she wanted to leave. She just found out that I kill people for a living, and she was literally the purest soul I had ever met. She could never want to be with someone like me.
But now I knew everything about her, things even she didn't know.
Diana Grace Jones
That would be her name if she were to take her biological father's last name.
Her biological father that I had been sent to kill months ago, the father that trafficked women, that tried to have her taken from her own home so he could sell her to his fucking business.
Why did it have to be her?
I still couldn't fucking understand it. I didn't believe in coincidences, not even in the slightest. And I couldn't understand it. It couldn't be a coincidence that the girl I met in the club all those months ago was the daughter of the man I had been assigned to kill only a few days later. 
I still had no fucking clue who had hired me to kill Stefan, but whoever it was had to know that Diana was his daughter and that I met her.
She was scared, of her father, of Kieran, and of me.
And I was so scared of her leaving me.
The last thing I would ever want was for her to be scared of me. I wished I could have just sat down and explained it all to her instead of her walking in on my literally torturing who turned out to be her fucking brother.
I had always thought she was a target because of me, because of who I was and the things I had done.
But she was a target regardless of whether she had met me or not.
But now she had me, and I was more than fucking willing to die to make sure her father would die a painful death before he even got to look in her direction.
I just wanted it to be us. I wished I could just have her forever, that we could stay in bed talking shit with Donut on the end of the bed for the rest of time. It was what she deserved, some fucking peace in her life. She had gone through so much, so many things that she didn't deserve, and now this too. It was just another thing to scare her, another thing that was going to affect her forever.
There was no guideline to finding out your boyfriend is a literal fucking serial killer. She didn't know how to react. I had no fucking idea how to react. I just wanted to tell her I was sorry for putting her though everything I had.
I didn't get to feel bad, I didn't get to be the one that was upset in this situation. I was fucking terrified of her leaving me, but that was so selfish. She was the one who was scared, of me, of everything. Everything she felt was valid and she was allowed to feel like that. As much as it hurt, she was allowed to be scared of me and I had to accept that.