Vigilante | H.S.

95 | Incompatible

Harry Styles

When I opened my eyes, I noticed there were only three feelings I could recognise.

Firstly, everything was ice cold. My body was covered in goosebumps, I could feel the hairs on my arms standing up, the horrible shiver down my spine.

Secondly, I couldn't breathe. There was something stopping me from being able to take a proper inhale of oxygen, and my lungs felt like they were being constricted. I was desperate to breathe, but completely unable to.

Thirdly, there was a pair of hands, holding my head down, in a sink full of ice cold water.

My eyes opened and I shoved myself back out of the water and out of the grip that was holding my head down. I gasped in a breath of air, my lungs were aching and felt the times smaller than usual as I tried to suck in breaths after being robbed of oxygen for so long. My hand shot up to my throat in an attempt to take in a breath that wasn't cut off. My entire body felt heavy and I collapsed back onto the floor, choking on water, while clutching my chest and trying to catch my breath.

It took my eyes a few seconds to adjust, everything was a blur for a few moments and my eyelids stung, heavy, fighting to be closed again. But my eyes flicked around the room I was in, trying to identify where the fuck I was and why the fuck someone was fucking drowning me.

My head was pounding in agony, and I brought the heels of my palms up to my eyes, pressing down to try and stop the thumping feeling from inside my skull. Everything fucking hurt, and I felt like absolute shit.

I took a few deep breaths through my nose, trying to stop the sick feeling I had throughout my body, while trying to calm down my own breathing.

With my eyes still closed, I barely had time to process what happened.

A hand was fisted in the collar of my shirt, tugging me up from the ground until I was standing upright in front of them like a little kid being picked on in the playground. My brain was too slow to process the rapid movement.

Whoever was holding me was strong, because they were holding me up with just one hand, and I wasn't doing anything to help myself stand up. They were lifting my entire body weight.

My head then suddenly shot to the side, and there was a burning sting across one side of my face.

That woke me up.

My eyes shot open, and I was fully prepared to fight whoever the fuck that was and break their fucking neck.

But, in front of me, holding the collar of my shirt, with a fucking furious look on his face, stood Zayn.

What the fuck is going on?

"Did you— did you just fucking bitch slap me?" was the first thing I asked when my eyes met with his. My voice was hoarse and rough, it hurt to fucking speak.

Instead of responding, he fucking did it again.

He bitch slapped me across the face.

Again it took me a few seconds to realise what had happened, but I shot my head back around to stare him in the eye, "What the fuck!"

"You're a fucking piece of shit, you know that, right?" He stared me right in the eye when he spoke through his teeth in anger.

He shoved me back aggressively so that I stumbled a bit, my mind still foggy and really fucking confused from being woken up with my head in a sink full of ice cold water.

"Why did you slap me?" I asked him bluntly.

"Because you're a fucking piece of shit." he muttered though his teeth, looking like he was ready to hit me again, I was really confused.