Possessed - Harry Styles

Chapter 3: Only for Her

Blake

I am led through a winding maze of streets, the guard's hands at my back, harshly pushing me along. The child with the violin follows not too far behind, his short legs struggling to keep up.

The guard has promised the child a payment of gold coins for his services. These gold coins will easily provide a few years worth of food and everyday supplies for his family. How amazing it is what one whack of a violin over someone's head can do.

I trip over a stone and curse as my ankle twists. My feet stumble to the side, and I lose my balance. The guard yanks me back into place and I wince. "Come on girl," he growls, and only when I look up do I realize where we are.

We have reached the Command Post. Somewhere, deep within the walls, my brother Mikhael stands in a standard Commander's uniform. I wonder if he still looks the same as he did six years ago, or if he's unrecognizable. Maybe he's chopped all his hair off, or maybe a scar runs diagonal across his face, disfiguring his skin and lips. A sign that he's a survivor. A sign of his superiority. A sign that's he's far too elite to visit me or our dying mother. As I approach the building I take deep breaths. I try not to clench my fists, I try to be calm, but I can't seem to be able to unfurl my fingers. They dig into my skin.

Whatever Mikhael has been up to, I guess I'll find out.

The doors to the Command Post swing open with a snap of the guard's fingers. Standing at the doors are multiple other guards, their faces stern and swords at the ready. Their gazes follow me all the way down the hall, where I am then lead down a stairwell, then through a series of doors.

Just as I pass through one of the last doors I am stripped of my jacket. With a clang the knife that I had hidden up my sleeve comes crashing to the floor. Many heads turn to look at me, hungry for answers. I simply shrug.

"You won't find anymore," I say.

They search me anyway.

I am then stripped of my boots and my hair ribbon, as if I could construct some sort of makeshift weapon out of them to kill my brother. Now my blonde hair hangs in loose curls past my shoulders, and my bare feet fight against the cold stone.

I am practically left in the barest state without being naked.

A guard directs me into a chair in a windowless room. There is only one door, which is situated to the back of me. This is where my brother will appear. As much as I want to turn around to watch him enter, I keep my eyes fixed straight ahead at the wall. The guard to my left huffs in annoyance. I guess he doesn't like to be kept waiting. Well, neither do I.

A single light illuminates overhead, casting my shadow onto the metal table in front of me. As I move, so does my shadow. It's a game I play until the door finally moans open.

The guard watching me says something to the room's intruder. The intruder laughs, and it's a sound I still haven't forgotten to this day. A laugh I would hear on holidays and birthdays, on sunny days and cool nights by the nearest docks, where we would run around tagging each other and pushing each other into the water.

My brother's laugh.

Mikhael's tall, lean frame comes in to focus. He takes a seat across from me, his hands folding in front of him. All the while I continue to stare past him, at the windowless wall illuminated by the single light. Mikhael rests his hands in his hands.

"Attacking a guard. Even for a child, this kind of rogue behavior earns a trip to the gallows."

His tone is cold, strong. Uninviting. It's nothing like I remember it. That laugh I heard is gone. That laugh I heard is for acquaintances only. The type of person I am not.