redemption: harry styles

Chapter Twenty Eight

"Evelyn?" his voice was eager and desperate, staring at me with light, dull eyes that glistened slightly. But his hand still clutched the dangerously sharp machete in his trembling hand. The thickness of a crimson colored liquid oozing down one side of the blade. I have just witnessed my boyfriend murdering somebody.

"Evelyn, look at me, please." Harry reached out and gently touched my cheek, afraid I'll jerk away. But I didn't. I just smiled with solemn eyes.

"You know I had to..." he whimpered.

"It's okay." My voice betrayed me and stayed cheerful, for some queer reason. "You're a criminal. You kill people. I still love you."

"R-really?"

"Yeah." I giggled. "I don't even care."

Harry stared at the floor, his face softening and his pink lips curling upwards. His eyes lowered to the ground and he held me tighter. "You're right," he said after a moment of silence, and then his eyes flickered to me; darkening--the shine disappearing suddenly as his lips twitched into a humorless, truly evil grin. "You naïve little girl," he whispered before thrusting his arm upwards and ramming the knife into my stomach. Blood automatically flowed out a split second before the pain began...

...and I jerked awake. I blinked the water away from my eyes and sat up. Pain shot up my spine and I arched my back, fisting the couch. Swiping my cold fingers under my eyes, I sniffed and looked around me. The sun was no longer in the sky, only a pink splat behind a mountain far, far away. Stars already began to rise and a crescent moon illuminated the place.

I shivered and rubbed my arms. That dream was odd...but so realistic. That's what scared me the most.

I hopped off the couch and stretched my arms above my head, walking towards the front door. I pulled against the doorknob but the door didn't budge, as usual. It took several minutes to search the whole house to realize Harry wasn't back.

I was afraid. Of him. Worried that he changed back to...him. Worried about what the hell happened.

You might think I'm stupid. Evelyn, you're home alone. You could probably break a window and escape, you're probably thinking. Why do you think Harry will ever be nice to you? Why aren't you afraid of him? How quickly did you get used to him?

Here's the newsflash: I am scared of him. I understand how many assassinations he has caused. People he has deliberately murdered. Items and cash he has stolen. People he put in depression and anxiety. However, that was the past. Harry doesn't like me...I don't know what it is between us. I think that's what my dream was about. He's kissed me more than once--though he only remembers that one time he lost control but the doorbell rang. He certainly still thinks of me as a toy, but he's obviously been acting nice lately. If, months ago, you told me that I would find Harry Styles attractive and nice and not bad, I would probably slap you. Laugh in your face or just look at you with a bored face.

And, the reason why I'm not trying to escape, why I'm not crying over my brother, sister, dad, and mum, why I don't hate Harry is because it finally sunk in. I just now realized that I was trapped. There's no way out of this. If I tried to run, Harry will probably catch me. I'm not certain about that, because I haven't tried it and he can't catch me when he's not here but I doubt we're close to my house or civilization, for that matter. I will never find my way. We're in this sort of abandoned court with only rubbles of old houses, in a big house with, if I thought hard enough, was probably an armory of it's own. But that's not the point. I remember being in Harry's car on the first night for hours--we were definitely far away. And if I tried to beat Harry myself, I ended up tied down or something. So I thought, better get used to it  before I began to mourn and weep over my loss. There's just no point.