In the Shadows [Harry Styles]

In the Shadows

  

   My rasping breath was the only sound apart from the upbeat music that played in the background. Dark, crimson liquid gushed from my head, sliding down my forehead—dripping on to my neck—as I skidded left, flinging myself down the unlit hallway. Beginning to stumble from the crippling pain that consumed my body I ran down the stairs to the front door swinging it open. Somebody has to be awake. Somebody had to help me. Anyone.

Pure adrenaline pushed me faster as I ran down the neighborhood street. My feet slapping against the moist sidewalk. I could just make out the small light at the end of the block emitting from the house. Maybe I'd live.

The spark of hope died out though, as fingers pulled at my brown locks—causing fire to lick at my scalp—pulling me back. A gasp could be heard over the stilled air, my gasp. Reaching out toward the starless sky my eyes filling with tears. I screamed out, but no one heard. I tried to crawl, but no one saw.

   Then it went quiet. I laid on my back, the dark liquid still pooling out of my wounds though it was lighter now; staining the green grass that surrounded me. I heard nothing but my own laborious breaths and strong heart that pumped loudly in my ears.

   A reminder that bad things were happening.

   But then pain suddenly seared across my abdomen like a branding iron, and I could see it. That thing straddling my body. It's razor sharp claws slicing and shredding at my skin through the now stained, dark red tank top with its haunting eyes that glowed like the moon staring down at me.

   The pain intensified and my bloody body quivered. My consciousness slowly ebbed away. A black mist crept in at the edges of my mind drawing me into a sweet and painless oblivion.