Faceless [H.S]

Pretty Mouth. 01

CHAPTER ONE

HARRY STYLES P.O.V

FLASH BACK DECEMBER 2017

Fear.

It's one of the emotions I haven't encountered in years. I couldn't remember the last time I felt that sudden drop in the stomach, or the last time I could wipe away the nervous sweat beading at the top of my hairline. Or when I felt my throat closing up. Knees weak. Lips dry; tongue swiping out in desperate attempts to make them wet once more. Those darting eyes. Breath hitching. Your heartbeat–pounding. Thudding. Much too hard in your tight chest.

It's not something I felt. But I didn't truly feel much, anyway.

So, as I stared at the knife in my hand and I saw this man writhing below me, I didn't feel anything besides acrimony. Disgust. I wondered how he could even allow himself to be in this position of weakness. But I knew that he deserved it, like every other single person I killed.

He's no different. He's pathetic. A waste of fucking space. Scum. Garbage. Below me.

I narrowed my eyes behind the mesh covered holes of the mask.

"P-please, god, please," the man cried, "I don't know why you're doing this to me... I don't know what I've done..."

I put the knife to his face, one hand grabbing at his hair and the other holding the knife. I placed the blade to the inside of his mouth and began to cut at the corners. The familiar smell of fresh blood swam through my nostrils; my eyes closing in bliss. He wailed, grimacing and trying to move. His flesh. It cut so smoothly. I yearned for this. Every part of my body was on fire.

That recognizable sound....

Fear.

His screams were piercing my ear drums from this close proximity. I licked my lips before bringing the knife to the other corner of his mouth.

"God," Jackie said quietly next to me, listening to his screams, "just get it the fuck over with, Styles."

"I like hearing him scream," I whispered.

The man looked up at me with horror, face scrunched up as his mouth leaked crimson red.

"He doesn't even know shit, this fuckin' idiot," her hispanic accent snapped at me. I looked back at her, and she stared at me behind the metal mask. My eyes found their way back to the source of the screaming, and he nodded frantically. His eyes were wet. He was losing his voice with how much he was screaming and crying.

For a brief moment, I could see a realization click within him; his eyes suddenly going wide.

He knows.

He began to flail around, sobbing and screaming. Kicking his legs with the last bit of fight he had left. But I was towering over him and he was going nowhere.

"Bullshit," I spat, "that's the face of guilt. He knows what he's done. Let him suffer."

He knew why we were here. He knew why we were doing this.

I sighed, finally bringing the knife up to his neck when Jackie reached over to stop me. "Let me do it."

I rolled my eyes, handing her the knife and she got on top to straddle him. He kept shaking and trembling but she quickly slit his throat, the sounds of the screams coming to a jarring halt as his head flew back against the pillow. The blood began pooling at his adam's apple and the sounds of gargling was all that was heard as he fought for his life. It splashed a little, getting on Jackie's mask but she didn't even flinch.