When I wake up, I'm sitting down.
On a chair.
In a dark, cold room.
To me, it appears as a basement. It's hollow, underground, and it has a smell to it - like the air is stale and...not fresh.
I quickly glance down at my legs to find my ankles tied to the legs of the chair, and my wrists, too. I struggle against my bonds to no avail. The ropes dig painfully into my skin; the more I wriggle, the more they dig into me, so I eventually stop. Gritting my teeth and trying to keep my mind clear in this situation, I take a moment to look about the room.
The light bulb above me is dim, providing minimal amount of light, and there are no windows. It's silent, an eerie, deafening silence. One that lingers louder than any noise probable.
The only sound is my heavy breathing. I feel like I'm trapped in a small box, with nowhere to go.
So many scenarios pass through my mind, but all of them involve Harry.
I see him entering the room, smiling deviously, carrying two butcher knives, intent on slicing me into pieces slowly, as to make my death long and painful. Then I see him towering over me, holding the knives to my skin. I hear myself screaming for help, but there's nobody to help me. His dimples pop as his smirk widens, his husky chuckle vibrating through the vast silence around us, and his eyes glint in pleasure as the knives begin to delve into my skin.
And the pain - oh, the pain is something I cannot imagine. I inevitably think of times when I stepped on something sharp and can only imagine the pain being a thousand times greater than that. And while he slowly drains my life away, I can only look into his soulless eyes and wonder how a human can possibly take joy in bringing such pain to others.
I never thought I'd be in this situation. Hell, I never thought I'd lose Niall in this way, or even watch him die in a tape. It goes to show that with life, you never know what's going to come around the corner.
All I know is that the moment I met Harry Styles, my downfall was inevitable.
There's no way I could've escaped it. It's funny how just crossing paths with someone else can alter so many things. All I had to do was introduce my name and bam, I was a goner. Who knows how long he's been planning this? Maybe he obsessed over how he could make my life possible - starting off with playing with my boyfriend. We were, after all, pretty serious. So how to make a boyfriend depressed?
Kill his best friend.
