Harry's POV

My fingers itched to hold something, something cold and bottle shaped, and the urges inside me were only strengthening every second I lay in my bed. It was the first time that I had missed alcohol; the first time that my tongue craved the taste of an ice cold beer or a lukewarm glass of champagne.

My feet led me through the dark corridors, making sure that every step was as silent as possible; I knew in my heart that what I was doing was wrong but I couldn't stop myself. It felt as though I needed alcohol more than I needed oxygen, and without it my body couldn't function.

I found myself at the threshold to the staffroom which I had only ever seen the door of, and I hesitated before turning the doorknob, knowing that if anyone found me I would be in so much trouble. But my desires overruled my conscience and I found myself passing through the foreign room with only the light of the moon outside to guide me to the fridge.

The eery silence surrounding me was off putting, and I was waiting for Dr Smith or someone similar to jump out and drag me to solitary confinement where I would waste away. But nothing of the sort happened, and I was greeted by a blast of cold air as the refrigerator opened; inside there were some small items of food, but my hands reached out for the bottle of wine.

There was something comforting about holding the glass bottle in my hand, feeling its cold touch and I could almost taste the liquid on my lips.

"You shouldn't be out this late at night Styles," a voice behind me said quietly and my heart stopped beating for a second, my whole body freezing.

Turning around with a guilty look on my face and a hitched breath in my throat, I faced Phoenix who was standing with a grin on her face at my weakness.

"I just needed a drink," I whispered back, and the smile from her face dropped slightly, but she still gestured to sit next to her on the sofa.

Cautiously, I sat beside her in silence and opened the bottle, bringing it to my lips but I paused before swallowing anything. Was it worth it? Was getting drunk worth anything? Placing it down on the table, my hands shook slightly as I let go of it and I placed them in my lap where they fidgeted manically but I let them.

"Substance abuse is more complicated than I had ever imagined," she whispered to me, her eyes indicating that she wasn't talking about me but something she had witnessed so many years ago.

"Everyone does things for different reasons," I replied back, and looked again at the bottle which was almost taunting me for not drinking it.

"Don't look at it, it will only make you want it more. I know that when I look at a lighter, the only thing I can think about is fire," it was strange to see Phoenix so calm, so wise and so unlike herself. I couldn't help but think that the conversation with Dr Smith about being set free had something to do with it.

"You could free yourself if you wanted to," I mumbled to her, unsure of how she would react, and she just smiled sadly at me.

"You can't free yourself from your past, you can't not remember the horrific things you witnessed, you can't live a normal life with demons sat on your back that weigh more than your conscience," looking out the window, I saw her eyes widen as she saw the full moon, and for a brief second I saw calm in her eyes which seemed to be constantly harbouring emotions.

I didn't ask anymore about her past, knowing that she probably wouldn't want to say and knowing that I wouldn't want to know- sometimes ignorance really is bliss. The less she knew about me, and the less I knew about her, the better our friendship could be. The better our talks could be. The better we could be.

"I don't touch alcohol," Phoenix said after a long period of silence, and I felt myself shrink slightly into the sofa, "I've seen what it can do to people."

"That has never stopped me," I replied back, feeling both stupid and guilty at the same time; I hated the fact that I appeared so weak.

I was being governed by liquids that numbed my brain. Ruled by a desire to forget everything around me for a while. That made me weak, because no matter how many times I had ended up in hospital, no matter how many tears my parents had cried, no matter how many friends I had lost, I would never stop.

"Being here makes you confront your demons whether you like it or not. You sit in your room and you think about why you're stuck here, and you cry and weep but at the end of the day you realise that you never knew yourself," it was one of the rare moments where something profound came out of my mouth, one of the fleeting moments where I sounded somewhat wise.

"I'm glad I met you Harry, although I wish the circumstances were different. Maybe one day you'll share with me your demons, and then maybe I'll be able to share mine," it was strange to hear so much emotion in her words, to hear her say things that were not sarcastic or rude. I was finally seeing the real Phoenix Waters.

"Maybe one day," I whispered so quietly I was sure she didn't hear.

The truth was, I knew that I would always keep most of my demons to myself, maybe I'd let a few of them slip from time to time. My heart had a padlock on it that no one could unpick, and I wasn't willing to give anyone the key anytime soon. 

What are Harry's demons? You'll find out very soon! Hope you enjoyed, if you did please vote and comment :) feedback is welcomed!