PULSE [H.S]

067

"Kindness is the ability to know what the right thing to do is and having the courage to do it." — RAKtivist

I'm surrounded.

Harry dragged me to the dungeon again, this time with Niall and Louis. He is still focused on the ambush that happened to me, and he insists on training me to be better prepared if something like that ever happens again.

To do that, he recruited Niall and Louis to essentially circle me like they are predators and I'm the prey. Harry said they're going to randomly attack me, and I'm supposed to defend myself.

I'm so nervous. I feel like this is one of the worst games I've ever played. My adrenaline is pumping, and I feel extremely intimidated.

"I don't like this," I huff as they circle me. I have no idea when they're planning to come at me, and it's making me so anxious. Harry just smirks at me, probably enjoying my torture.

He told me this was a training exercise they all went through when they joined and went into combative fields. I never even considered that they had to train to become so lethal.

An arm wraps around my neck, catching me off guard as it's gently pressed against my throat. Niall laughs behind me, saying, "Andddd, you're dead."

He lets go of me, and I glare at him. It's humiliating—

Louis lunges at me, throwing me over his shoulder before I can even recover from Niall's attack. I grumble, "I hate this stupid fucking game." He laughs, setting me down.

Harry says, "Center yourself and observe what's happening around you."

I see Niall step towards me again, and I just drop to the floor, hiding my face in my hands. This is terrifying, even though I know they're not actually going to hurt me. It's like the fear of being found in hide-and-seek but amplified.

Niall says, "Well, that's not going to do you any good."

"I'm scared," I say, not moving.

Harry forces me back to my feet, grabbing my shoulders and saying, "Just breathe, Kiz. There's nothing to be scared of. This is just for practice."

"I feel like I'm being hazed," I grumble.

I fail many more times, all of them taking turns attacking me successfully. I'm growing frustrated, and I think it's making them all even more entertained.

I think I've noticed a pattern in their attack order. It goes Niall, Louis, Niall, Harry, Harry, and then repeats again. They keep looking at each other too, communicating with their eyes.

Harry just came at me for the second time in a row, so next should be—Niall's too quick, his hand grabbing onto my shoulder, but he might've just confirmed my suspicion about the attack order.

Okay, focus. That means that Louis is next.

As I expected, Louis approaches me, and I see him move out of the corner of my eye. My body just reacts, my instincts taking over in an effort to protect myself at all costs.

And I punch him in the face.

My hand flies to my mouth, and my eyes go wide as I realize what I just did. Louis takes a step backwards, his hand going to his jaw, where I hit him.

"Oh my God," I say, feeling extremely bad about what just happened, "I'm so sorry, Louis."

He smiles at me, saying, "It's about damn time."

I apologize to him about five times before we continue.

Harry gives me a foam knife, like the one he used a while ago to show me how to use a knife before my first job. He tells me to use that so I don't damage all of their 'pretty' faces.