-Harry's POV-
"Harry!" I heard my mother screamed down stairs. I jumped up from my bed at the sound of my mothers cries. I ran downstairs to find my mother and sister tied down in two chairs, my mother was being gagged by a bandanna. I didn't know what to do my body was frozen, I couldn't move, couldn't scream.
I looked over at the man who hovered over my mother with a gun pointed at her head. I wanted to scream, wanted to cry, wanted to grab the gun and save them, I was trapped, I was nothing. I was useless unable to help my helpless mother and sister. I heard the laughter of the man, his laugh sending chills throughout my body. My mother tried to scream for help but there was no use, I was the only one to hear her muffled cries, and I was useless.
He put his finger over the trigger and with the push of a button, one gone.
I looked over at my sister, her face red and eyes filled with tears."Gemma!" Is what I wanted to scream, nothing.
The man brought the gun over to her head, laughter and only laughter is the only sound in the room. With that, two gone and only me. The sirens waled outside the house. The man dropped the gun and dashed away out the back. I was finally unfrozen hearing the voices of the police telling to come outside or they'll come in. I walked over to my mother and sisters lifeless bodies
I picked up the gun that was used in the murder of the only family I had left. My hands traveled up and down the barrel of the gun, finger prints all over it. I lifted it up and pointed in the direction of my sister when the police came in, grabbing me and pulling me away from them, taking the guns from my hand.
"Harry Styles, you are found guilty of the murders of Gemma and Anne Styles, you are sentenced to jail until you're eighteen, that's when they will deal with you then."
I woke up my body sweaty and hot, shaking. I gasped for air grabbing my almost empty water bottle on the ground beside my bed. No matter how many times I have the dream, I never seem to get out of the habit of waking up in the middle of the night like the way I do.
I got out of bed and walked towards my closed door. I slowly grabbed the door knob and twisted it open. I peaked my head out and into the hallway making sure no one was there. Clear. I walked down to the first door on the right, also known as Miranda's room. I opened her door and saw her back was to the door, her soft snores filled the room.
I walked slowly over to her watching her as she slept. I took a seat at her desk and watched her. I was being a total douche towards her, and I didn't want to be, it's just the way I came out to be. She's gotta hate me. I mean she made me kiss the god damn wall. I hovered my hand over my lips and pressed down trying to get the taste of the wall off my lips.
I had only went in to kiss her, and she rejected me. I probably would've rejected myself too. Yet the way she wouldn't let me have my way with her was.... intriguing. She knew what she wanted, and it wasn't me. I find that attractive, having something you can't is always a challenge.
I walked back towards the hallway looking at her one last time before shutting the door.
I found myself in the basement in the home gym, where I tend to go when I wake up and can't fall back to sleep. I turned on the music and put it on low, considering there were people still sleeping. I grabbed my gloves and walked over to the punching bag hanging from the ceiling. I started off slow bouncing in place taking a few hits at the bag, until I started getting angry remembering my dream, sadly not a dream but only reality.
"Harry!" My mothers words cried for me.
My muscles clenched up, not being able to help her made me feel useless which only drove me to punching harder towards the bag. I started hitting rapidly, at an even faster pace.
His laughter making my face red, making me mad. Me being able to do nothing to save them made me mad. I didn't even realize how far back the punching bag had gotten until it had come back and hit me smack in the face. I fell back and fell flat on my ass. I slowly took my gloves off and laid on the ground watching the bag sway back and fourth.
My eyes rolled back and then closed as I slowly fell asleep to the music and the squeaking of the bolts holding the punching bag.
-Miranda's POV-
That morning
I grabbed a muffin from the glass container that laid on the counter in the kitchen. I took a bite and had no clue it was cranberry. I quickly spit it out into my hand and threw the spit in the trash along with the rest of the muffin. I grabbed a couple pieces of bread and threw them in the toaster grabbing the butter, and a butter knife, getting ready for the toast to pop up.
I took a seat at the counter and waited for a moment. "Morning sweetie." My mother said speaking up behind me, startling me. She kissed the back of my head before raiding through the fridge.
"Morning, sleep good?"
"Fairly. Until the middle of the night." She grabbed the milk from the middle shelf and grabbed a glass. "Why, have a bad dream?" I asked. I heard the toast pop up and I ran over grabbing a plate. I grabbed the toast with the tips of my fingers, hurrying so I wouldn't feel the heat from the toast.
"No not me, but Harry. I hear him wake up every night panicking since we got here." My body stiffened, but to think of it. I don't think I've woken up to that, but I have been waking up strangely early lately.
I spread the butter on the toast. I brought it back over to the counter taking a seat next to my mother. "Today's the big day, eh? You're dad's getting married huh?" She reminded me. Well my day was fine up until now. I just can't help but feel that he's making the biggest mistake of his life and I just don't want to be here and celebrate the day that ends it all.
She grabbed a slice from my plate and I scowled at her. She must be the only person I willingly share food with, not even Stella. I heard a door swing open, I jerked my head over to the living room to see Harry yawing as he came from downstairs. I looked back and pretended I didn't notice him, I felt his presence from behind me as he walked back upstairs to his bedroom.
"Morning." My fathers voice rang through the house as he walked out of his bedroom.
"Morning." I mumbled back as I covered my mouth so the toast wouldn't fall out of my mouth. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a glass of orange juice. "Big day Scott!" My mothers voice chirped. If there was ever a moment I wanted to slap my mother so hard, now would be one of those times.
She wouldn't shut up about the wedding, only reminding me of the wedding. I grabbed the last slice of toast from off my plate and ran back upstairs getting ready for the last good day of my life.
