-Chapter 5-

Anyone who says that they don't have regrets is lying; in seventeen years, I've managed to amass a bundle of them. I wish I'd spent more time learning to play my dad's guitar, I wish I'd seen other countries and learned to speak French. I wish I'd never quit school, I wish I'd never got wrapped up with Trick. These are only the top five. For some reason though, in this moment, dragging Harry Styles back to my flat doesn't make the list.

You'd think it would; it's his fault that I'm here, being pushed forwards with my hands behind my head and knife pressed into my back. The day is dying; the lacklustre sunlight fading behind grey clouds as the rain begins to fall, my bangs growing heavy with water, sticking to my forehead. The grass is wet against my ankles as I stumble, unsure of where we're heading- but I know it can't be good.

Harry's beside me, "Louis, Louis...don't do this...what...." he tries, turning around briefly before the gun pushes at his back. Pleading won't work, obviously. And which one are we meant to plead to? They're identical, down to the strange, dead looks in their eyes.

I didn't think that anything could top a naked Harry Styles pointing a gun at me, but if anything can, it's the two Louis Tomlinsons behind us. Maybe Joey's theories about aliens weren't so farfetched after all. If I ever needed proof of Harry's story, this was truly it.

"Why do so many members of One Direction want to kill me?" I whisper feebly, brain frantically searching for some kind of way out. If I try to make a run for it, they'll kill me. If I stay, they'll probably kill me too.  I should have learned martial arts or something too, add that to the list of regrets.  

Parked on the street, a little way up is a moving van. Nothing special about it; large and white, with no insignia painted on the side. Just blank emptiness, another mystery without answers. I steal a glance down the street, hoping to see Trick. The same old Mercedes he used to wait for me outside of school in. I'd lean into the window, skirt too short, chewing gum fiercely and plant a kiss on his lips.

He's being smart, I tell myself. Keeping his head down, and then at the right moment he's going to strike. He's going to save me, just like Harry did.He wouldn't leave us? Would he?

No, is the answer. I suddenly realise, supressing a strangled cry. At least... he hasn't left us on purpose.

He's still in the car, the door to the driver's seat is wide open and I can just about see the top of his head pressed faced down into the steering wheel. They got to him first. Must have placed a hand over his mouth to muffle the screams before they slit his throat.

Trick. I hate myself for it, but I can't stop the tears that begin to fall or the desperate shaking of my shoulders.

One of the Louis Tomlinsons slides open the back of the moving van, and I see that there's nothing inside of it. Except a tarpaulin, spread over the boards.

"In," says a Louis.

"On your knees," says the other, their voices matched in coldness.

And we sink onto the tarpaulin, what other choice do we have? We face the front of the van, our backs still to the Louis doppelgangers  as I turn my head a little to look at Harry. He's breathing slowly, trying not to panic, I can tell from the way he purses his lips and his chest rises and falls. I try and do the same, but nothing will stop the jack hammer blows of my heart against my ribs.

"Look, Louis, you don't have to do this," says Harry quietly. "I know you. You are not. A murderer. Who are you working for?"

If this was a bond movie, they'd stop for a moment to explain the plan- giving us some time to work out a daring escape. But this is painfully real and the glint of the knife near my face is almost blinding, I'm close enough to almost taste the steel. This is it, then, this is how it ends. My blood pouring out onto the tarpaulin, body packed into a moving van. And Joey and Mum and Chantelle might never even know. All I can do is sob.

"I'm sorry Tish, I'm sorry."

The knife is cold on my neck, and I clench my eyes tight. Over my sobbing, I hear the sound of an engine revving and the world is an explosion of sound and reverberating as Trick's Mercedes speeds into us.

It shakes the whole van, moving it forwards with a jerk, sending the Louis Tomlinsons forwards. The knife slices me, and I let out a gasp as a little blood begins to drip down my neck. But it's barely more than a nick- not like the artery severing slice I gather they were planning to give me.

The car alarm of Trick's Mercedes wails and the glass is shattered, I see him look at me, face drawn and pallid, one hand on the steering wheel, the other clasped to his neck. Blood spills out onto his hand.

"TISH!"

Harry kicks one of the Tomlinsons, and runs right onto the bonnet of the car, through the broken front window, and I'm behind him, scrambling, panting cutting my knees on the glass as I clamber in. They shift seats and Harry takes the wheel, "Can you even drive?" I ask him, from my place in the backseat. I'd take the wheel instead but I can't leave Trick. I won't leave Trick.

 "I'm sure the other me has a licence."

Trick has a head wound from the crash now, but his neck is what worries me. Angry red channels stream out from between his fingers as he slumps back on the car seat. Harry backs up as the Louises make towards us. One of them stands and aims his knife, Harry jerks the steering wheel and it clips the wing mirror and falls on the dashboard.

Tears cloudy up my eyes as Trick's fingers lace with mine. He wheezes something and I murmur in a shaking voice, "shh it's okay, we're going to take you to a hospital, it's gonna be okay,"

I was fifteen when I first met him. My friends all wore hair extensions, fake nails, shagged whoever they liked and always got cat calls in the street. I tried, tried to fit in, tried to be noticed but it never seemed to look right- like a snake still covered in its peeling dead skin. Trick saw me though, he wanted me. He still remembered that I liked prawn cocktail flavoured crisps.

"I gotta lose them ,Tish" mutters Harry.

"Take him to a hospital!" I all but scream, even though I can see the moving van starting to follow behind too. "Right now. Right fucking now!"

Harry speeds along, jerking around corners. It's his home town, he knows it better than they do and the Mercedes is faster than their van could ever hope to be.

"Tsssh..."

"Shh, I'm here. I'm here."

Trick's head lolls to the side and I press my nose against it. The same thick, heady smell of his aftershave is still there, mixed with the heavy iron tang of blood. Harry knows what I won't admit to. We'll never make it to a hospital in time. I hear a choking, gargling breath, feel a shudder running through my body from him, and when I pull away I know.

He wouldn't be here if I hadn't asked him to. I thought he'd left us, I was going to leave him. But he saved us. And in return, I can't do anything to save him.

Plunging my hand into my mouth, I bite down hard enough to break the skin. We've managed to lose the Tomlinsons, for now.

But Trick is gone.

*

We fill his pockets full of stones and watch Trick sink into a canal, the water inky black in the darkness, a gaping void that swallows up my ex boyfriend. His blood is on my hands, dry and cracking and brown, which shake as I fumble for his lighter and smoke another cigarette.

You deserve better than this, I tell the canal. Everyone does. But we can't drive around with a body in the car, and I sure as fuck am not leaving him on the side of the road for some random person to find. Harry leaves me to watch the canal and that's for the best.

He can't look at me right now, I don't know if I can look at him either. But when the taste of the cigarette is too much, all the tar and the poison clogging up my throat, I throw it away and head back to the car.

He's sitting on the bonnet, knees pulled up into his chest and I join him. The silence that passes between us is almost insurmountable, thick as a fog, loaded with feelings and sentences going unsaid, all of them starting with Trick.

"Two," I finally whisper when my mouth can find the words. "There were two of them, right in front of me..."

"They aren't Louis," Harry says firmly. "Neither of them. He would never ever ever do something like that. I've been with him for months, but they didn't look like they knew me at all."

A haunted expression crosses over his face, "Like we were strangers. It was really horrible."

They're the same as the imposter Harry, I'm sure of it. But how they managed to look so like Louis is still a mystery to me. And why? Whatever else, I know for certain that they want Harry dead. And now me too? There's silence again.

"I'm taking you home. I can't do this to you anymore," Harry insists.

There's cash in the dashboard, quite a lot, some leftover from a deal Trick must have made quite recently. Enough to take us both back to London. But things haven't changed now Trick is dead, there's still nothing waiting for me down there.

"I don't have a home anymore, remember?" I say thickly.

"Trick does, we have his keys."

I swallow hard. Like that wouldn't be painful at all. But with all of that removed, it is the best option I have.

"And what will you do?"

"I don't know. I think home is out of the question, if it's still my home at all," he chews on his lip. "But I'm not putting your life in danger again."

"You didn't force me," I whisper. "All you wanted was trousers...I..."  

It's so still and quiet, here by the canal. On the canal, a few moorhens are still paddling on the surface of the water, their jet black feathers camouflaged with the night so that only their red beaks are visible, warning beacons calling out in the darkness.

"I was so sick of everything when I got with Trick. Sick of school, sick of home, sick of my life. I thought it would make me feel better...I thought it would make me special. When really I'm just stupid, stupid, stupid," I pull my knees up into my chest and mumble, "give me a good thing, a nice normal life and within a month or so I'll ruin it."

If it hadn't have been Harry, it would have been something else, comes the grim realisation.

"I used to think Trick fucked up my lifembut I did it. He could be a real asshole sometimes but not when it counted he shouldn't have died...I..." I wipe away more tears on the cuff of my sleeve and I feel Harry sigh and shuffle a little closer before he begins. 

"All my life people keep telling me they wish they were as confident as I am. Getting up on stage. Talking to people. It's so brave.  And when people are talking about you and saying you're great, the next big thing...you feel invincible. But...I'm not at all. I know that now.  And I'm terrified." He laughs like it's a joke. "Jesus Christ I almost peed my pants! Literally. I felt actual pee coming out. "

"And least you weren't crying..."

"No I was just all- Oh no, Louis...don't kill me don't kill me," he mocks in a high pitched whine. "God, we are useless at this, aren't we?"

"We're the worst," I agree with a small smile, before turning serious again, "We need to know what we're dealing with. Otherwise we're just running from god knows what, god knows why and it will never be finished."

"We?"

"We. You. Whatever.  But if one more member of your band tries to murder me I'm going to flip out. These people are dangerous, Harry. And maybe not just for us...your band...they're like famous everywhere..."

He nods quietly. "If there are two Louis' then the real one could be in danger. He could be hurt. They could all be in trouble. And if I can't run home to Mummy, I'm supposed to man the hell up and find some answers, right?"

He doesn't sound all that convinced. 

*

It's too late to catch a train or a bus and there isn't a hotel for miles so we decide to sleep in the car. When I wake up, the sunlight burns in through the smashed windows of the car, a chill in the air that makes my teeth chatter. The sound of Harry's light, snuffling breaths fill up the Mercedes and when I blink into life I see that his face is inches from mine, the two front seats of the car pushed all the way down to make passable beds. There's a hoodie draped over my body and I realise he must have given it to me some time in the night.

Looking for my morning dose of nicotine, I plunge my hand into the pocket of my jacket and my fingers clasp around my phone instead. Pulling it out, I go to check the time and see that I have a new message. I recognise Joey's number and the sound of his voice, hurried and panicky fills my ears.

"Listen, Tish, you need to call me back. If you're still with Harry Styles, you need to get as far away from him as you can. You're not safe, okay? That doctor IanRoslin, I looked him up- he's famous. Works in biotechnology...in 1996 he was one of the people that made Dolly. You know, the cloned sheep."

 I press my fingers to my lips and look down at Harry, his nose now twitching a little. Clones. Two Louis Tomlinsons and the real Harry Styles being replaced with a fake one. Things began to make a little more sense.  

"But that's not everything...he was murdered Tish. Two days before Harry came to us. Somebody shot him."

My head begins to spin as I look at the boy I'm sharing a car out in the middle of nowhere with. Dr Ian Roslin was murdered. Harry was wearing his jacket when we found him.

Harry had a gun.

A/N: Any theories so far as to what is going on? What do we think of Trick? Please please do keep voting and commenting!