Sweet Poison

00

Dylan Bryes

I slam the door shut, dragging my heels across my hotel room floor in desperation, the whole journey back feeling like a chaotic nightmare. My lungs, blocked. My head, fucking spiralling. My heart, torn.

My lungs hate me right now, but I had no other choice but to run, I have no other choice.

He knows.

My chest pounces harder and harder as I almost trip over my half packed luggage, which was originally packed for tomorrows show, but now, i'm even more grateful for my need to preplan.

On my knees, my hands shake uncontrollably, my head feeling the signs of a soon to come panic attack after what I just witnessed.

He killed someone.

I chuck whatever I can see, through my erratic eyes I just make out the outline of my suitcase.

I run to the bathroom, collecting anything I think is mine whilst catching a glance at myself in the mirror.

I look like shit, my skin sweaty as my beanie sticks stray hairs to my clammy forehead, I just need to get out.

Running back out to my room, I chuck my toothbrush into the suitcase before I halt my escape, the awful state of panic puncturing my heart as I feel any relief dissolve past my feet.

My chest increasing in breaths, I freeze.

"Where are you off to so soon Angel?"

I blinked a few times, danger sparking through my veins. Fuck.

I snap my head up in the direction of the noise, and there he sat; body pressed against the bed I once lay in, sneakers kicked up in a crosslegged position, my phone... in his blood stained hands. The drying of the crimson residue discoloured the multiple rings masked onto his fingers.

They weren't bloody before, that means he must have carried on punching that man after he shot him in the leg. After he killed him.

I open my mouth to conjure up an excuse, but nothing came out, nothing could come out when I physically felt my voice breaking, at the attempt to string a sentence together.

He smirks, controlling my downfall as he perches in his posture, rising to his full stance as I black out slightly.

My heart thumps in my ear, I need air, fresh air, I need to be in a room without him there, I need to answer him.

"So" he steps forward "Now you've forgotten how to fuckin speak?"

My eyes widen, breath trapped in my throat. Answer him Dylan.

He kept his eyes on mine the whole time as I keep myself a mute, he's waiting for an answer, something I don't have.

"I don't know what to say to you Harry." I look up at him now, he's gotten closer to me, too close. I step back, not far from the wall as I feel my limbs tense.

I lower my eyes in regret, I should've just listened to Leah when she told me not to go downstairs. I should've left practice, I should've just listened.

I feel his presence closer, I feel his eyes on me, analysing my every move with focus yet he speaks so calmly.

"Oh, I think you do" he pauses taking another step toward me "So, tell me exactly what you saw down there, bit by bit." My phone tips in his hands, fear dawning in my bones.