stockholm syndrome | styles

chapter eight

I moved the thin curtain out of the way so I could peak out of the window in our room. I was in my pajamas, a pale pink robe over them. I closed the robe tightly around myself, crossing my arms so it would stay in place. I saw a police car parked in front at the curb and an officer on the sidewalk with a flashlight, walking back and forth at the front of our building. I sighed watching him. I felt a sense of protection knowing that there was someone there.

I felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist. I looked back at Louis and smiled. "I'm sleepy." He said.

"Then, go to sleep." I chuckled at him.

"Not without you." He said, kissing my cheek.

"Alright," I sighed, "I'm coming, shorty."

"Fuck you," Louis chuckled, "I'm as tall as you."

"Exactly," I said, climbing into bed. He pulled me close to him and I buried my head into his shoulder. "But you're more fun to cuddle."

MISSIE

Everyone became suspicious on my frequent visits to Harry. I had to leave him alone for a day or two before I went back. It wasn't safe for me or him.

Derek was with me to 'watch over' me. My parents thought I was some child. I sat on the granite kitchen counter as I scratched my forearm. I winced and looked down. There was a rather large bruise forming and it was starting to hurt.

"You've been with him lately." Derek said, entering the kitchen. Him. As if he was some animal we brought into the cabin.

"Him?" I acted confused. I knew his tricks. React too quickly, you're lying. React too slowly, you're lying.

"You know," He leaned against the door frame, "Harry."

"Oh," I acted realization. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"He's so far from us. He could die and we won't even know it."

"Hm." Derek replied, taking an apple from the fruit bowl and taking a bite. He wasn't convinced.

"Last person you owed you guys money, died of a heart attack in the room." I explained, "I'm helping you."

"Do you wanna help?" He asked and looked at me. As he slowly advanced towards me, I noticed that he was hiding something behind his back. I didn't know what to say. I knew that he wanted me to reply, yes, of course I do, but I don't. I was disgusted by myself and my family. "Missie, answer the question." He sternly said.

"Mhm." I nodded. He tilted his head and smirked, revealing what was behind his back. A knife. I looked down at it and then back up at him in surprise.

"Can you do it?"

"No, I-" I refused it, but he grabbed my hand and wrapped my fingers around the handle. I bit my lip, "This is crazy. I'm not hurting him."

"You've done it before." He said as I flinched at the memory.

"I killed him." I sighed, closing my eyes. "It was a mistake."

"Was loving him a mistake, too?"

"Just stop." I snapped, "That was years ago, stop it."

"You can't talk to me like that." Derek scolded.

"I'll talk to you however I want to." He grabbed me by the forearm, directly on the bruise, pulling me off the counter. I yelled out in pain.

He was inches away from my face now, heavily breathing. He was angry, but he always was. He pulled the knife out of my hand and
ran it into the counter. The knife stood there, the tip well into the counter. "Listen to me. You're under my control and mine only, got it? You do not tell me or anyone else what to do. Do you understand?"

I opened my mouth to say something, but closed it. His grip was becoming tighter around the bruise which was clearly making it worse. I whimpered in pain, trying to escape his grip, but failed horribly. "Answer the god damn question."

"Y-Yes.." I softly said. His grip loosened and his glare softened. He flipped over my arm and examined the large bruise. He looked at me, almost concerned.

He sighed, "I'm sorry, babe."

"It's okay."

"I love you, always." Derek pecked my lips softly and smiled.

"I love you, too."