Professor Styles

Chapter 6

"Lovely to see you again." His voice is eerily calm. 

"Mr Styles-". "Call me Harry." He bluntly cuts in. Harry? His name suits him. Harry Styles. "Harry." 

I decide to ask him about what I saw the other night, I mean he's already likely to kill me so why not. "Harry, I saw you the other night." I whisper. "I saw you...um... with some other men, um you were um hitting a poor man and I saw you pull out... a gun?" I look anywhere but his eyes whilst whispering these words to him. I don't look up. He surprises me by swiftly grabbing my hand, he forcefully pulls me along with him. He manoeuvres us through the corridors. His grip on my hand is deadly. He drags me through the building. We enter his classroom. He shuts the door behind him and locks it. He spins around. We are face to face. Eye to eye. 

"You really want to know? Fine." His deep voice begins.There's a silence before he speaks. 

"I run an organisation. A very powerful organisation. A type of mafia. We own most of England, we make people fear us. We kill people, set up huge drug deals etc." He speaks calmly, as if we are discussing the weather. 

 I can't believe what I'm hearing. I had no clue gangs and mafias even existed anymore. 

Surely he must be exaggerating, I mean he's an English professor. "But you're an English professor?" I mean how is that even possible? 

"Yes I am. My gang isn't my life, it's only something I have to do because it was my fathers." "That's crazy. You thrive on making people fear you." I say.  Is he insane? "You're sick. You've killed people." I take a step back from him. He's silent. 

"I've killed many people. They have all deserved it." 

"You heartless bastard." I can't help but say it. He is quick to grab my waist and arm. He pushes me back into the wall behind. His body is pressed to mine. "Don't speak to me like that." His voice is raspy and quiet in my ear. It sends chills down my spine. "Every person I've killed has either betrayed me, or owed me a lot of money." 

"That's no excuse, they had family, Harry. Children, parents, siblings. You took away their lives." I'm looking deep in his eyes, trying to dig out some sort of emotion or compassion. 

"Don't you feel guilty?" I whisper. 

"When you do what I do, you don't have time for guilt. You don't have time for emotion."

I want to help him. To fix him. I want to make him feel. 

I don't fear him; I've realised. I just want to help him. 

I slowly and carefully raise my hand and lightly touch his cheek with my palm. The place I'd previously slapped. He sucks in a slight breath. His eyes staring into mine. I sigh. "Harry, you don't have to do it-". He pushes my hand away and steps back. "Elizabeth, you don't know anything about what I do. I can't give up. I have a reputation. So save your fucking breath and stop trying." He bitterly bites at me. 

"Harry I want to help you." 

"I DON'T NEED YOUR FUCKING HELP." He shouts, banging his fist against the wall beside me. 

"I'm not afraid of you." I step closer to him, he steps back. 

"You should be. Elizabeth you're too innocent for my world. Too pure." 

"I don't care." I truthfully reply. "Harry I don't care." 

"Stay away from me. I don't need games." There's a pause filled with tention. I'm carefully debating the next words to leave my lips.

 "I don't want games." I step closer to him so we are eye to eye again. It's come to my attention that I love the way he looks at me. Smirks at me. Touches my skin. It all gives me butterflies, it sends my heart racing for some reason and I've never had that kind of excitement before. He's looking into my eyes, almost curiously. His hand gently tucks a piece of hair behind my ear.