Styles and The Beast

Chapter 2

People always told me that the stories told around the campfire are nothing but a myth, but the stories about Styles Manor seem true, real. Its almost like that it had that essence that told me that the stories were real.

They also had a aura that said it was too dangerous to screw with but I like danger.

I craved the adrenaline rush.

That's why today I am going to the Manor. I've forced Zoe and Louis to come with me and promised they only had to sit in the car. We are now in the car and they are both acting like 5 year olds pouting in the backseat. I have the music turned up but to behonest I have no idea what I'm even listening to. I'm to focused on the manor. I keep thinking about what it looks like. What i will see.

Does it look like the pictures from the books? Is it run down? Is it even there anymore?

"Just turn around now Lucy," Louis said lowly. My stare on the road turned to Louis. He wasn't even looking at me. His eyes never diverting from the things in front of him, they were focused on the scenery flying by. I just rolled my eyes and kept driving. After Louis's little moment, nothing else was said. We soon pulled up to a large metal Gate.

Is was black and the bars were thick. The front was decorated with a cursive S. I stopped the car and grabbed my camera. Before I could step out of the car a hand on my shoulder stopped me.

"Please be safe," Zoe pleaded. I think she had finally gotten the idea that I wasn't going to change my mind. No matter what.

"I will," I quickly stepped out of the car and started for the gate. I nudged it and it slowly opened. The whole ground had an eerie sense to it. I slowly walked the trail.

Every noise had me jumping a mile off the ground. The driveway seemed to go on forever. The trees surrounding the grounds almost looked dead. They were like skeletons. Not one leaf hung on a branch.

I stopped once or twice to take pictures or check my surroundings.

It almost felt like as I got closer it got colder and darker. But it was probably just my paranoia.

As I traveled the trail I soon found myself coming to the end of it.

And there at the end of the of the trail was Styles Manor. Proud but weak. A place that held secrets and death.

I pulled my camera out and took a few shots of the house.

The more pictures I took, the closer I got to the house.

It's like it was pulling me in with a rope.

Tugging me closer and closer. I hadn't even noticed I got so close.

I was now standing on the first step of the porch. The board whined and creaked under my weight, due to its old age.

The paint was chipped away but the flecks still left let you know it was once white.

And old rocking chair, knocked over, probably from wind, laid on the ground.

The door was oak, a once maroon color, and the knocker, a rusted gold. It depicted a wolf, it's teeth baring a gruesome snarl.

I was now standing on the top step.

I kept asking myself if this was smart. Should I just turn around? I have plenty of pictures. And I'm sure Louis and Zoe are worried about me. I was about to turn around when I heard a noise come from inside.

It sounded like someone knocked something over and it crashed to the ground.

I looked at the door contemplating wether I should do something or not.

No one has lived in this house for over a century.

I walked up to the door and placed my hand on the door handle. The smooth surface was cool to the touch, sending shivers down my spine.

Carefully turning the handle I let myself in. The door squeaked and squealed in protest. Too old and rusted to work.

Once the door was finally open I looked inside. And boy was I surprised at what I saw.

The house was immaculate.

A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling and the couches were neat and cared for. The floors were spotless marble. Not a speck of dust was to be seen. The stair case wrapped around the wall with a pearl white banister. The walls were painted with blood red paint.

It was as if someone was living here. Form the outside you could tell no one has lived here in awhile but the inside told a whole other story.

No pictures of family hung front the walls. Only paintings done by artists hung.

I stepped further into the house. Looking like a tourist. I was so engrossed in the house I hadn't seen the shadow walk behind me.

The door was slammed shut, making me jump in fear and shock. I spun around to come face to face with a man.

My eyes went wide when I came face to face with the man. Tall in stature and unruly hair.

His lips were pulled into a snarl and his greens eyes blazed with hatred. If he wasn't so intimidating I would say he was attractive.

His chocolate brown hair, bounced with curls and swept to the side. His eyes, a beautiful green, captivated you. Drawing you in. And his lips were the softest pink. His whole facial structure screamed Greek god.

"What do you think your doing?" He growled.

"I'm sorry! I-I am doing this project you see...." He looked at me and then at my camera.

I don't know how it was even possible but he seemed to get angrier. Making me coward myself into a corner. I gulped as he walked closer.

He smelled of after shave and pine.

His face so close I could feel his breath. That's when it clicked and I gasped.

"Your him!" His eyes widened at my sudden outburst. "The the son!" He's aged obviously. He doesn't have the boyish face like the newspaper clipping. "Your the Styles' son!"

"Shut up!" He snapped.

"But how?! You were.... Even if you survived the attack you still would've died by now or at least aged!"

His hand whipped out and wrapped itself around my throat. Cutting all air from my lungs. He then proceeded to lift me in the air. I brought my hands overtop of his in a weak attempt to pry his hands from my throat.

"P-plea-se," I pleaded but he only tightened his hold.

Before I lost consciousness I saw his features turn. His teeth enlarged and his eyes turned gold.

"Damn it!"

••••

I woke up in a cellar. The bars rusted and the floor damp and musty. I felt like I was breathing in death.

Not a window in sight. I rubbed my tender neck, a bruise surely forming.

"Hello?!" Nothing.

"Mr. Styles?!" I heard a chain rattle and the cellar door creak open. I looked for the person when the guy came into view.

"Mr. Styles is my father," he replied tersely.

"Then what can I call you?" I rolled my eyes. My sarcasm clearly heard. He eyed me. His face blank of emotion. Was he even breathing? I had no idea if he caught my sarcasm or not.

"Harry," I nodded slowly.

"You can you just let me go. I promise I won't tell anyone!" I pleaded. He just chuckled and shook his head.

"No can do sweetheart. I can't let you go, you've seen to much," he British accent almost made what he said sweet and not creepy.

"So what now? Are you going to kill me? My friends know I'm here, if you kill me you will get caught!" He smirked.

"I'm not going to kill you, I'm going to keep you."

••••••
By the way HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOUIS TOMLINSON!!!!

-A