Harry Styles and Devon Carlson. Two sexually driven, filthy rich, 23 year olds who find bumps in the roads that lead to ruins.
Very Mature Content.
Violence
Guns
Mention of Sexual Harassment with T.W.
I don't know how I got here. Why I did it to her, why I let everything burn to the ground.
I am the destroyer of my happiness and I just ruined her.
Everything he said was true and nothing will ever be the same.
3 months earlier
"Harry for the last time I'm not waiting on you a minute longer," she yells, giggles between her words. All she does is rush me.
"Taking my time should not be a crime dev," I defend. It's only been an hour since 7, which is when we're supposed to be at the "special dinner" she has planned for my birthday that I know is just a cover up for the surprise birthday party her and zayn are throwing me.
I don't wanna seem like a stuck up, because I do love birthdays but I don't care about mine, well not anymore at least . Today's the 4th birthday without Edward, my twin. A sensible person would say I should celebrate for him but he despised me and I don't think he would ever want me being happy on this day, the day I killed him.
"Fuck Harold what the fuck wrong with you?" His words ring through my ears. I feel it. The pain, it's becoming unbearable. I wish he knew how it was, to be hated. He doesn't though, never has. Even when we were recruited he was the one, the golden boy. They all loved him while I envied him.
"HARRY I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DONT PUT THE KNIFE DOWN," Edward shouted. Thoughts emptying and coming back to reality I look down at his body, slashes across his chest, bleeding out the blood he probably wished was mine.
I didn't feel guilt, I never have and I don't think I ever will.
"Say one more fucking thing and I won't fail to shoot you in the goddamn dick," I calmly chuckle, twisting the gun between my freshly manicured hands.
He stares at me, furrows his eyebrows, and begins the nightmare I do everything in my power to prevent.
"Babe for the last time we're gonna miss the reservation," she snaps me out of my thoughts through her lying words. I fucking hate liars. If she was someone else I possibly would've snapped their neck right then and there. "...you do this every time I'm so sick of you..." I hear through her continuous muffled rambling.
"Devon, baby. I'm sorry okay? I'm coming down right now," I say as I run out of the bathroom. Walking into the living room I see her waiting at the door, face perched on her palm and elbow pressed against the door. A tight black Dior dress that showed her tits and sat right above her knees. I could cum at the sight... if my eyes stay looking at her tits any longer I think I will... "Eyes up here birthday boy, you can't have desert when you have had a meal first," she seductively whispers as I walk closer and grab her by her waist.
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"But I want you to be my meal and desert," I hum in her ear, hands lowering down to her ass and slip it through her thin dress. "And your wearing a..." I try to make out the fabric "...lace thong for me, I bet you're aching already." Her breathing just got a lot heavier and she pushes her body away from my grip, fixing herself.
"Harry you're an asshole, what's under this dress is a surprise and if you don't be patient, maybe I'll let the waiter at the restaurant we're ALREADY LATE for have the desert instead." She puts emphasis on "restaurant" and now I know she's lying about our plans.
I'll save her the embarrassment. "Okay, I'm sorry. Let's go."
