The Demons In His Head

The demons

(An: chapters will be in third person, unless I say different. Make sure to check out the song I posted with the chapter. the song was like the inspiration to the book.
This isn't really a chapter, but it is VERY IMPORTANT, so please read it.)

The demons finally got to him.

When he looked in the mirror a demonic child stood before him.

Little children ran around his house at night. But they weren't real.

The demons in his head were slowly taking over him.

He couldn't help himself...the bloody bodies exited him. The long blade touching and slicing through people exited him. Tho, for some reason he felt slightly guilty after each kill.

He knew he needed help, but no one would help him.
Mostly because no one knew he existed. Harry was taken away when he was young, no one even knew he was born. His mother died giving birth, his dad was long gone, all he had was his sister and grandmother. But, his sister was soon to go. He was only 9 when his sister passed. That's when the demons appeared. He was taking in by his grandmother, she lived in an old creepy house.

No one ever went near it, Harry was to blame for that. No one knew of the child and so when you looked up through the windows you would see a small boy. Harry was a pale, pale boy and wore white clothes, he had very dark curly hair, so when he stood the the window he looked like a demon or ghost. He would stand there for a second the diaper. Not letting anyone see for to long.

His grandmother would offer have guest over, usually friends, sometimes she would offer rooms to people staying a night or two. Harry hated them, he would creep around the halls, running past the guest rooms as they slept. He would move their shoes and coats. Take pictures of them while they slept and leave them on bedside tables. Anything to make them leave.

If Harry ever went outside he was carful never to be seen. Often he would find stray cats, they always got in the way. So Harry would hang them and sometimes cut their stomachs open. He left them in trees by the road so no one would come in.

To say the least, Harry hated people. He hated everyone except his sister, he did however hate his grandmother, very much so. He would break her things and ruin her stuff. She despised him, in her mind he was a waste of space. A pathetic excuse for a boy. If she wasn't locking him in her room, she would throw him outside, or in the basement. She'd hit him and not feed him for days.

Gemma hadn't been completely different. She'd feed him and bath him. But, like her grandmother, would throw Harry in his room. She was rude and curl. Hit him if he was acting up. There was something different about her, tho. Every few days she'd be different. Sweet, loving, caring. She'd clean him up, treat him like a prince, feel guilty and always apologize, even if she didn't do anything. Harry always had a theory she wasn't aware of what she was doing, that she didn't know what was going on. Like someone had taken control of her when she slept. Even tho Gemma was a horrible person, Harry could never hate her.

His grandmother passed when Harry was 14. He'd already scared everyone away, so no one knew. One late Tuesday morning, Harry dragged her out back, burying the body.
Since Harry couldn't be left alone very long, his grandmother would just paid someone to do groceries for them. The man would bring the food to the door, ring the bell twice, and go. It was an old guy, Harry would watch him come and go each week, judging him.

There was no one left. Everyone left him, alone with his thoughts.
That's when the demons started to show more often.

When he slept. Running around being noise.

When he looked in the mirrors.

They'd talk to him, but he'd never respond.

Harry never really talked after Gem. He'd laugh and scream, it was like he didn't know words. But he did, he used to talk to Gemma. He'd sing for her all the time, even if it got him smacked or punished.

He missed her terribly. After the accident he would call her name in his sleep. Crying and yelling out to her. That got him in big trouble. If she heard he'd be thrown outside to sleep, no blankets, pillows, lights, anything. Harry was afraid of the dark, but after spending so many nights outside, he began to find a liking for the darkness. It consumed him. He felt at home and free in the dark.

Harry got lonely and fast. There was nothing or no one around. After awhile he found a hobby, it wasn't a good one. But that didn't matter, it exited him and made him feel restless. The blood made him want to smile and laugh. The sight of the motionless body's makes him happy and makes him feel good. Like he's actually capable of doing something. All his life he's been called worthless, pathetic, good for nothing, useless, but if they could see what he was doing know, they'd understand.
-

It was the time or the week again. The food was coming today. Harry ran up to his usual spot in the window, waiting patiently. After a few minutes, a black car pulled up. This wasn't the usual car, Harry thought, but he pushed his thoughts aside. A boy stepped out. He had blue sparkling eyes, fluffy brown hair, he wore a black shirt and dark jeans.
Harry watched carefully as the boy walked up the stairs. He rang the doorbell, but didn't leave. After a second her rang it again. What is he doing? Harry thought, go away!! Harry realized this boy would not leave. He slowly made his way down the stairs towards the big door. He opened it slightly.
"Hey, I'm Louis Tomlinson. I'll be bring your food.." he spoke softly, "the last guy, uh somehow die..I think." That was me, Harry thought.
"I-I'm Harry..Styles.."he mumbled, "the last guy just left it on the step. You can do that to, if you want." Harry found a strange liking to this boy, his blue eyes and fluffy hair somehow attracted the killer. He hoped Louis wouldn't just leave it on the step.
"I think I'll just give it to you, curly " he said cheerfully, "oh..by the way, some sick kid tied a dead cat to your tree.." That was me, Harry thought again. He nodded slightly. "Well Harold, I should be going. see you next week." With that the blue eyes boy was gone. Harry was angry, but happy at the same time. No one called him Harold but Gemma. Harry couldn't figure out why, but he was excited for next week.