Songbird- Harry Styles

one

Chapter 1 

May 2021

    I want to run, but there's nowhere to go. I'm trapped. As I lay in this 10x10 cubicle, my fate is five feet away, staring at me in the face. I want to yell, but my screams are silent. This is what hell is going to be like-  I'm sure of it. He inches closer, the only noise in the room being my muffled cries and his heavy breathing-

I shoot up from my bed, the once peaceful haven I entered at 11 last night quickly turned into a suffocating prison of heavy blankets. I thrash around, untangling myself, getting claustrophobic. I breathe out a heavy sigh once I am free, swiping my hair up into a pony and cringing as I feel it wet against my neck with sweat. I look over at the clock- 4:45 am. I take another deep breath, swinging my legs over the edge of my mattress. It's not time for me to be up yet, but I don't know if I can go back to sleep after whatever the fuck that was. It hasn't happened in a long time, but every once in a while, the nightmare creeps back up.

I exit my bed, put on my slippers, and walk to the kitchen with my eyes still half closed. Ignoring the pain in my hip as I bump my countertop, I reach for a glass and fill up a cup of water. I sit in the dark, the silence comforting me as I enter into the day.

I am dreading today.

I assume the nightmare came back as I anticipate my first day back in the office. It's only been a year, but damn if I don't still feel out of it.

Feeling bored and antsy, I put on a pair of leggings, running shoes, a sweatshirt, and a puffer vest so I can go for a quick morning walk. This is the time of morning when all the people who actually run are out and about. The thing is, I don't run. But I do enjoy a bit of a leisurely stroll with whatever playlist calls my name that day.

I step outside, the brisk air hitting my face. It was cold... for LA. It is never actually cold here. I was born and raised in the heart of this city so I'd be shocked if  I found anything in my closet thicker than a crewneck or the puffer I currently have on. Even then, this thing doesn't even have sleeves. Either way, I don't plan on being out here for more than 30 minutes before I have to go back to get ready.

I'm down the block and start to queue a few songs to get my morning started, hoping to erase the scarring memories that haunted me in the night. Fleetwood Mac is always a good kickstart for me, The Chain, Go your own way, What makes you think you're the one, all of the classics. Something about Stevie in the morning makes me feel like I can take on the world.

I make my normal route, stopping by the Alfred coffee shop close to my home in Studio City. A lot of people say this place is overrated, but I'd do probably anything for an iced vanilla latte with oat milk. I smile at the barista, someone I haven't seen before, probably training, and I turn around to walk back home. The air is crisp, and I can see the sun start to peek out from behind the hills of Ventura Canyon. It's a sight to see.