Who is Alice? ( One Direction Fanfic ) ON HIATUS

Extra: His Art Of Loving

Extra Chapter

He’s doing it again. The paddles left deep violet marks around my body. Both my arms and legs supple. The soft cracking of bones vibrated in my ears as blood continued to drip from the sides of my mouth. My wardrobe ripped into pieces, leaving a filthy pile at the right corner of the warehouse. Cackles of excitement reiterated in the dull room, threads of saliva hanging on his bottom lip, rough and blood stained hands shook strenuously in every hit. The deep, crimson liquid streamed on the ice cold tiles.

His body like a lifeless doll being kicked over and over and his curls also dipped in red body fluid. The man he called father in his childhood left him mercilessly lying on the floor like a slave. Empty green orbs followed the departing man, and before he knew it, the man had already slammed the door shut. The clanking of keys came from the opposite side of the dusty door and a lock suddenly clicked. He was alone now. Again. Always.

The blackness lurked in the gloomy room, the strong smell of sweat and blood present. All he could do is crawl pitifully in trying to retrieve a wide fabric that covered the tarnished residuals to cover the red and purple shaded body. Rope marks surrounded his neck and wrists down to his feet. When he tried to pull the comforter, torturous pain swept on his body. He then presumed that it is because of his dislocated arm. Leaving him no choice, he pulled the dislocated joints back in the right place, making him scream in pain.

He then smiled.

He leant his drained body on the grayish cemented walls, the soiled blanket wrapped around him. He was technically in a dungeon. Barriers planted on the possible openings like the windows, with nowhere to hide. Cigarette butts and unknown drugs also scattered on the floor, making it look more hell like.

His lips formed into a wider smile and banged his head twice, as if trying to escape from reality. But no, he didn’t. He was actually enjoying every second that passed by.

He remembered from the day that he was seven years old. He saw a certain killer stabbing the woman he loved multiple times in the chest. The man looked crazed, with not even a single glimmer of contrition. He despised that man as well as himself. Because all he did was ask .…

“Daddy…What are you doing with mommy?”

“Loving her…”

After being sentimental with the memory, he then thought that he is exactly a complete shadow of his father.

They both have a different way of showing care.

He thought that maybe at that time, dad thought that if he can’t have mom, then she is better off dead. Maybe when he knew that mommy was cheating and I wasn’t really created by papa’s sperm, he finally snapped.

But I always thought of him as my parent. Though he wasn’t my biological father, he was still the one who taught me how terrifying is to love, and how inhumane everything is, making him better than any real parent.

“Ugh…tomorrow’s the first day of school.” He felt the drug injected to him earlier kicking in, his head growing dizzy, but never enough to make someone like him pass out.

He then grabbed something that was kept hidden under the decomposing materials for hours…

A key.

Seriously. What does his father think of him? He had always had a way of getting out. But it seems like he enjoyed the agony of pain, and chose to stay.

He grabbed the neat pile of clothes that was also covered by a piece of fabric, adequate enough to hide from his idiotic father that belittled him.

He hastily put on the pair of clothing and began to turn the lock and walked out as if nothing happened, the tormenting pain slowly fading from the capable body. He closed the wooden door slowly and stepped away from the cabin built exactly at the center of the woods. He took a glance on the drunk man resting on the wooden stairs and his hand still capturing a bottle of gin. He just smirked and stepped away from his father’s hide out that is even especially used for bringing prostitutes and tormenting him.  

Dried leaves crushed under his bare feet as he vanished in the grove of ancient trees, starting his journey back in the city.

It is quite a long trip to Spade’s rest house from here after all.

The breeze blew angrier and the skies turned thicker as he subconsciously hummed a random tone and his mind lingered elsewhere.

Harry is coming…

The demon is coming…

And he is about to show his true art of loving.

Author’s note: Heya! Xtra chappy for you guys that allows you to have a tiny sneaky peek into Harry’s behind the scenes past! Any way…sorry if it is really progressing show…we’re almost in the real plot…alrighty?? ( I also apologize if Harry is like super psycho here but yea he will change….eventually…later chaptersSSS though…