alters

21

HARRY

HER concealed irises shift beneath her closed eyelids, her thin body flat against the bed. I rest on the edge of the mattress, awaiting Aliceʼs awakening, repeatedly filling the room up with my breath and sucking it back into my lungs again.

ʻʻIs she still out?ʼʼ Niall questions from behind me and I shift to meet his gaze.

ʻʻYeah.ʼʼ I move to stand. ʻʻShe woke up for a little bit, but I gave her more pain meds and she dozed off.ʼʼ

When he asks if I know what happened to her I shake my head, and he nods as if he completely understands, rocking up and down on his heals. His pale eyes settle on the lump beneath the blankets, chucking a bit to himself. ʻʻSheʼs gonna be putting you through hell, Styles.ʼʼ He comments rather matter-of-factly.

The corner of my lips tug up slightly, as I peer intently on the girl laying adjacent to where I stand. ʻʻActually,ʼʼ I murmur. ʻʻNow that Iʼve met her...I feel almost closer to heaven than hell.ʼʼ

ʻʻYeah, thatʼs why you called me cussing your little-wittle British arse off, making me quit everything just to come help you out. What am I? A freaking butler?ʼʼ

I roll my eyes carelessly, climbing off the bed. My hands dig deep into my pockets, as I circle my head to loosen the tense muscles in my neck. As I begin to head for the door, Niall asks ʻʻWhere the hell do you think your going?ʼʼ

I pause by the doorframe, hand on the knob. ʻʻI need relief,ʼʼ I simply reply, and head out into the hall.

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

ʻʻPlease, let us go!ʼʼ The nameless girl screams from the ground, her curled up body contorting in several disturbing ways. Her voice is stretched and raspy, from one long hour of begging and crying. Her friend has been silent the entire time, only tears slipping from pale eyes.

I laugh a little, shaking my head. My knees bend to reach her height, hand reaching out to caress her soft cheek. She jerks away, fear dancing within the green of her irises. ʻʻI barely touched you, and your already screaming.ʼʼ I comment with a cheeky grin.

Blood smears on her right temple, crimson staining the side of her face. All I had done was make a simple incision into her forehead, but her thrashing about had widened the cut. Her teardrop slides across the rosy liquid, her lips chapped. ʻʻWhat do you want?ʼʼ She pleads, her bound hands chained to the thick tree trunk.

ʻʻDo you feel threatened?ʼʼ I sit with crossed legs in front of her, my hot breath fanning across her face.

She snorts as an attempt to feel some amount of power in her hands again, but only sinks back into her fit of sobs. The crying loses its amusement and slowly morphs into annoyance. I sigh heavily, observing her for a few moments. I elevate my curled fingers out to her, but she pulls her head away. I slowly near her again, placing them beneath her chin, guiding her to look at me. ʻʻI donʼt hate you.ʼʼ I state.

ʻʻWhat?ʼʼ She sniffs in, glancing at her shaking friend beside her.

ʻʻIʼm not doing this because I hate you,ʼʼ I repeat, reaching into my back pocket. As soon as my arm rounds my back, the panic resurfaces, her legs kicking at me. Dust and dirt clouds the proximity in between us, the rough tree bark scratching her delicate back.

ʻʻStop, please, please,ʼʼ She fusses, repeating the plea.

I pull out my handy dandy ice pick, easy to transport in my back pocket. I smile slightly, cocking my head to the side. ʻʻAre you aware of the ʻlobotomyʼ procedure?ʼʼ