Stolen - Harry styles

two

Things changed then. I slowed down, while everything around me sped up. It's amazing really, what a tiny bit of powder can do.

"How are you feeling?" You asked. You were watching me, your eyes wide. I opened my mouth to tell you I was fine, but I didn't understand what came out. It was just a jumble of noises , my tongue too thick and heavy to form words. I remember the lights turn into blurs of blazing fire. I remember the air-conditioning chilling my arms. The smell of coffee smudging into the smell of eucalyptus.

Your hand was tight around mine as you grabbed me and you took me and you stole me away.

I must have tipped your coffee cup when I stumbled to get up. I found a burn mark on my leg later, a pink stain running above my left knee. I still have it. It's turned a bit wrinkly, like elephant skin.

You made me walk fast. I thought you were taking me back to my flight, leading me to the gate where my parents were waiting. It was a long way, much longer then I'd remembered. When you dragged me along these moving sidewalks, it felt like we were flying. You talked to people in uniforms, and pulled me to you like I was your girlfriend. I nodded at them, and smiled. You led me up some stairs. My knees wouldn't bend at first, and it made me giggle. Then my knee caps turned into marshmallows. Fresh air hit me, smelling like flowers and cigarettes and beer.

There were other people, somewhere, talking softly, shrieking like monkeys when they laughed. You pulled me through some shrubs, then around the corner of a building. A twig caught in my hair. We were near the trash bins. I could smell rotting fruit.

You pulled me to you again, tilting my face and saying something. Everything about you was fuzzy, floating in the fumes of the bins, Your beautiful mouth was moving like a caterpillar. I reached out and tried to catch it. You took my fingers in yours. The warmth of you shot from my fingertips right up to my arm.
You said something else. I nodded. Some part of me understood. I started to get undressed. I leaned against you as I took off my jeans. You handed me new clothes. A long skirt. Shoes with heels. Then you turned away.

I must have put them on. I don't know how. Then you took your top off. Before you put a different shirt on, I stuck my hand out and felt your back. Warm and firm, fair but pale. I don't remember what I was thinking, or even if I was thinking. But I remember needing to touch you. I remember that feeling of skin. It's strange to remember touch more than thought. But my fingers still tingle with it.

You did other things, too, you put something scratchy on my head and something dark over my eyes. I moved slowly. My brain couldn't keep up. There was a dull thud of something landing in a metal can. There was something slimy on my lips. Lipstick. You gave me chocolate. Rich. Dark. Soft. Liquid in the middle.

Things got even more confusing then. When I looked down, I couldn't see my feet. When we started to walk, it felt like I was just walking on the stumps of my legs. I started to panic, but you put your arm around me. It was warm and solid, safe. I shut my eyes and tried to think. I couldn't remember where I left my bag. I couldn't remember anything.

People surrounded us. You pushed me into the middle of a crowd of blurred-out faces and color. You must have thought of everything; a ticket, a new passport, our route through, how to get past security. Was it the most carefully planned steal ever or just luck? It can't have been easy to have got me through Bangkok airport and onto a different plane without anyone knowing, not even me.

You kept feeding me chocolates. That rich, dark taste. . . Always in my mouth. Now even the smell makes me sick. I blacked out after the third. I was sitting somewhere, leaning up against you. You murmured something to someone else about me.
"Too much to drink," you said. "We're celebrating."

Then we were crammed in a toilet stall. There was the shoot of air as the contents of the bowl were sucked away beneath me. And we were walking again. Another airport, maybe. More people. . . The smell of flowers, sweet, tropical, and fresh, as if it had just rained. And it was dark. Nighttime. But not cold. As you dragged me threw a parking lot, I started to wake up. I started fighting you. I tried to scream, but you took me behind a truck and pushed a cloth over my mouth. The world went hazy again. I sank back into you. All I remember after that is the numbed-out holt and sway of being in a car. The engine grumbled on, forever.
But what I do remember is the waking-up part. And the heat. It clawed at my throat, and I tried to stop me from breathing. It made me want to black out again. And then there was the pain.