Harry Styles, a secret service agent working for British intelligence is tasked with finding the killer after a series of brutal but calculated murders across Europe. His mind is sharp, he's smart, arrogant and works with a precision that leaves no...
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Winter.
When I managed to peel my eyes open, the only feeling that overcame me was the sense of dread. My chest was tight, heavy, my heart felt like it was beating too fast in my chest. It was still beating. I was in a familiar space, a familiar plain wall looked back at me, familiar bed sheets I was laying on top. I'd managed to get myself into bed, not that I necessarily remembered doing it.
I reached up to rub my eyes with the backs of my hands, feeling the crust and sleepiness from going to sleep with damp eyes. My fists opened and closed, all of my fingers feeling like they had to crack from how stiff I was. My head was pounding already, making me only want to go straight back to sleep. I had no idea what time it was.
My feet hit the floor. I'd managed to get my shoes off too, that didn't happen often when I woke up feeling like this. I usually ended up falling asleep in the exact same thing I'd come home in. But beside the bedroom door, my shoes were neatly tucked away.
I didn't remember getting into bed. In fact, I wasn't actually sure what the last thing I remembered was. My mind was a complete mess. I didn't really know what was going on, how I got here, or where I'd been before I got here.
When I stood up, my head began to spin and I had to squeeze my eyes closed, placing a hand on the wall beside me to steady myself. With a slight dizziness, I changed into an oversized shirt, deciding to just wear that and underwear. I had the cold sweats, the clothes I'd worn to sleep in felt stuffy and damp from my own sweat.
I tried hard to think about what the last thing I remembered was. But it was really like an entire chunk of my memory had been removed. Everything was a blur, I didn't know what day it was, what time it was or how long I'd been asleep for.
Avoiding my own reflection when I entered the bathroom, I was surprised to see it tidy. Usually when I woke up feeling like this, it was because I'd made some shitty decisions and filled my body with as many things as I could. The only reason I'd know I did it was because I'd see the mess I left behind in the morning. But I still couldn't remember a thing, the bathroom was clean, so I had no idea why I felt like death.
I rinsed my face with water, brushed my teeth and tied my hair back on my head. When I took a drink of water, it felt like it was the first sip of water I'd had in years, like my mouth was a dry desert and it had rained for the first time in eternity. My mouth was so dry and I felt like I had nothing inside of me. But I couldn't remember when the last time I ate was, I felt a little bit hollow inside but couldn't feel hunger.
Once I felt alive enough to move from my position of being hung over the bathroom sink, I took one deep breath and made my way into the living room. Every part of me felt uneasy, like there was a voice in the back of my head telling me I had to be on edge. The heels of my palms were pressed against my eyes and I tried hard, so hard to search in the back of my mind for a single memory. But the last thing I remembered was being put into the back of that police car after the masquerade. I had no idea how I got out of that situation, or how I ended up back here.
