redemption: harry styles

Chapter Four

I squirmed and thrashed around in the back of my car but my mate ignored me, talking to somebody on the phone about payments.

My chest moved in quick, erratic breaths as my eyes darted around the area. I managed to slip the cloth that covered my eyes down to my neck but the tape remained on my mouth and twisted my arms so they were cuffed in front of me. My body trembled, and I've never felt so scared.

The car took a sharp turn, making me roll onto something that dug into my back. I groaned into the cloth that was wrapped around my mouth and flinched away, only to discover a padlock locked into a metal handle that stuck out from one side. I sat on what it seemed like a trapdoor, most likely carrying weapons. I began to question what kind of person I was with whilst a whole hour passed of being in the car.

I tired myself out moving too much but I didn't stop trying to kick out the lights or find something useful. Of course, I had no such luck. The boy in the car barely noticed the thumping sounds at the back of his car.

I sighed in frustration and slumped against the back of the seats, feeling the back of my eyes sting. But I told myself no, that now wasn't the time to cry. I had little knowledge on how to deal with situations like this, I wasn't into movies or games that would actually teach you a few things. I wasn't sure where he was taking me, but it was only him. I could maybe run, if he doesn't point a gun to my head or anything.

The car soon slowed to a stop and I heard the sound of a car door opening and closing. Footsteps, then the back door opened.

I shuffled away, my eyes widening at seeing his face.

He stared blankly at me. "How did you get the bandanna off your eyes?" he asked. His voice was deep.

I furrowed my brows at him and his eyes flickered to the tape on my mouth. He rolled his eyes and reached out into his back pocket, pulling out a pocket knife. He flicked it open, making me flinch and blink, but he just pointed it at me.

The boy tilted his head and pointed the sharp end of the blade at me. "Where we are right now," he began, wagging the knife around in the air, "absolutely nobody lives here. If you try to scream, nobody will hear you, and you'll just end up upsetting me."

My breathing fell in irregular patterns and I continued to stare at him, making a bold move to narrow my eyes.

"If you somehow get away. I'll get you back," he said casually, his voice calm "and I won't be happy. I'm going to get those--" he jerked his chin at the handcuffs,"-- off of you, and the tape. Don't do anything stupid."

Maybe I was just naive and stupid but I believed him when he said nobody lived here. And I was terrified of upsetting him, not knowing what he would do if I tried to get away, so even though I wanted to try and get home I certainly wasn't going to do it running barefoot from a boy with guns and a car. Not now, at least. I didn't have the guts, to put it that way.

He reached down and used the knife to unlock the handcuffs. He looked up at my confused face with is eyebrows raised, and simply said, "Niall has the keys," before he broke the cuffs loose.

I quickly raised my hands to peel the tape off of my mouth, clenching my jaw and not-so-gently pulling it off of my face.

I whimpered and rubbed my mouth, then slowly looked up to him. It was if he knew I wasn't going to pull anything on him so he didn't try to grab me or anything. Instead, he stuck out a hand, the other on the door.

I stared at it and slipped by him. He watched me wearily, the knife still in his hand, as he closed the door.

"This is where we'd be staying for a while," he said and gestured to a large, white house. It was two stories high and looked old but sturdy. I studied at it carefully, checking the windows and doors--as if I would be able to get away--and I felt his hand on my arm.

I tensed up but he tightened his hand around me to a slight grip, enough to keep me from pushing him away. I couldn't do anything. I had no choice but to follow him inside, to listen to him, because I was scared to do otherwise. It was stupid, yes, but I wouldn't have been able to get away, anyway. 

"We move a lot," the boy said. "Can't stay in a place too long. We burn every trace that we were there if the police haven't already figured out we were in town, otherwise it doesn't matter. They know some of our names." We were inside. He closed the door behind us and let go of me to lock the door. I hung my head low, feeling numb yet a little angry that I couldn't do anything.

"And mine's Harry, if you haven't already figured out." He winked and began to walk through the hall.

I stared at his back, my heart missing a beat.

He stopped to turn around and glanced at how pale my face went. "And, yes," he called before I could say anything, "Harry Styles. Nice to meet you, too, Evelyn."

I tried to slow my breathing as I watched him turn again and stride away, I didn't want to follow him but I didn't want any snide remarks about if I'm just going to stand here or, worse, pissing Harry Styles, a killer, off.

My throat closed up but I slowly padded after him. The hallway led me into a kitchen which was connected with the living room. Only a dining table with few chairs was in the kitchen, and the walls, cabinets and drawers were all painted white. Several leather couches sat in the living room and a stand with a large T.V. stood to a wall. I frowned at how normal the place looked.

Harry stood by the counter with his phone in his hand. He was checking something, but when he noticed that I followed him he placed the phone on the bench and leaned against it, his palms on the edge by his side.

"I like the way you're taking this," he commented randomly then he looked me up and down. I fidgeted, aware of my arms and legs being exposed because of my dress.

"Was I supposed to scream and cry?" I asked quietly, even though I said that for the particular reason to make me sound as if I weren't scared. But my voice shook at the end and I stood awkwardly still in front of him.

The boy--Harry--shrugged his broad shoulders. "Maybe." He bit the inside of his cheek. "It just goes to show that you're smart enough to know that you can't leave, Or you understand that I meant what I said. Or..." Harry pushed himself away from the counter and moved to stand in front of me. He leaned forward and I took a step back on instinct. "You've already accepted the fact that you're mine and you'll stay with me, whether you like it or not," he said lowly, his face dangerously close to mine. My face heated up slightly and I dropped my gaze away from his.

"The first one sounds like it," I said, a slight bitterness laced in my voice. It was barely a smart thing to say but I felt proud for at least learning how to speak in front of him. His presence was overwhelming. So was the fact that my mate was a serial killer, and that I was not home.

Harry studied my face, taking his time, I took that as a sign to stare at his, but not for half as long. His eyes were a light green, the color of an emerald. His hair was really long but had loose curls so it was up to his neck, at most. His cheekbones and jawline was define and sharp. A tiny scar remained on his right cheek, and his lips were plump and pink. I blushed when he noticed me staring.

"It's like three in the morning," he commented. "You must be overwhelmed." He exaggerated a hand movement and jerked his head to the hall. "Follow me."

So I did, and we stopped by a room that was downstairs, which I found strange but I didn't question it.

He took one look at me and said, "I'm not the kind of guy to force you to sleep with me. Literally or metaphorically."

I pressed my lips together, avoiding his gaze.

"Just the kind who kills people, right?" I blurted but didn't regret anything. Surprisingly, Harry smiled.

"Don't worry, you'll learn a lot about me," he said and left me in the room, a click sound following.

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