✓ maple street murderers || h.styles

five

They're finally on the first floor. Delilah stumbles every now and then and Harry catches her to make sure she's okay. Every time they turn a new corner, he dims the lights so only he, Delilah, Eric, and Andrew can see.

They're trying to be as quiet as they can, rounding corners and walking into rooms to find the next staircase.

"Can we take a break?"

Harry hears Delilah groan at Andrew's question. "We're almost out. All we have to do-"

"Shit!" A blood-curdling scream makes everyone freeze where they are. Harry instinctively grabs his girlfriend and puts up the brightness in the hallway before looking over at everyone.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary until he realizes that Eric seems to be suspended by a string. He walks closer to the other man and covers his mouth at the sight of an anchor keeping him up. "Where the fuck..." he trails off, pressing a finger to the heavy metal that's ripped through the center of his body.

Eric is still alive, somewhat, and he's watching Harry like he has the power to save him. The whole group seems to be expecting Harry to do something, but there's really nothing to do.

He shrugs his shoulder slowly and Eric blinks one last time, parting his lips to let some blood out of his mouth before letting his body drop completely against the rusty anchor.

When he looks back at everyone else and tunes in to what's happening, he sees Andrew crying into Delilah's neck. Her hands brush through his hair gently and Harry stays quiet as he ushers the both of them forward so they don't waste any time. He's trying to pull himself together and stop thinking about all of that blood but he can't get it out of his head. All he keeps thinking about is Andrew and that river of blood pooling past his lips and his eyes that dilated just slightly before rolling to the back of his head and-

The screeching sound returns, and he nearly cringes. "I see you falling apart."

Del turns around after a moment to look at him, eyes curious as she catches him staring right into one of the cameras. He's pulling at his hand and biting hard on his bottom lip.

Her hands move to pull his wrists down but he shoves her away with a heavy shake to his head. "Don't touch me," he whispers, hating the tingling that's spreading through his chest. "I'm fine, just-"

"We're going to need to separate." Andrew's shaking voice pulls him out of her eyes.

Both Harry and Delilah give each other a look, but she speaks up first.

"Why would we need to..." she doesn't finish her question and he follows her trail of sight, shoulders slumping forward at the three hallways ahead of them. Above each is a smiley face with Person A, Person B, and Person C.

The screeching bubbles through the small space. "I don't want two people in one hall, or you'll both get no fair chance." ShitFace giggles and then breathes against the microphone he's talking through. "This is the last obstacle. You're not all living."

"Delilah," he catches her wrist, pulling her just a little closer, but not enough to make him get lost in his thoughts again. He feels like an addict about to reach for his poison. He presses his lips against hers and pulls away before either of them can deepen it. "I want you to dim the lights in every room you get in. Test the floors with your foot, too, okay? Make sure the cameras don't really see you."

She nods slowly and keeps her eyes on him. "You act like you won't be seeing me after this," she jokes with a half-hearted smile, poking his bicep to try to lighten the mood.

"Delilah..."

"I'll see you soon, okay?" She turns to look at Andrew. "You too. We've got this."

🔪🔪🔪

It's just Delilah now. Somehow she felt more confident when she was with the others. Now that it's just her and all of these towering walls with barely-there light bulbs, she feels like something will jump out at her. Her mind keeps trailing off to Harry. She noticed how sick and nauseous he looked, and she keeps worrying that he might not be able to handle himself against anything.

She sees a light in the left corner of the hallway coming from the only room that's wide open, and as she steps forward to reach it, a pinching feeling lodges itself on the side of her torso.

She practically falls to the floor but tries to keep moving forward, pressing her palm against the growing pain there to at least relieve some part of it. She continues dragging her feet until another knife-like object splits the air to cut her on the side of her neck, tearing some skin off in the process. Her steps don't stop until she reaches the wide opening of the door with the bright lights, and a scream nearly builds in her lungs when she sees the masked man standing by the first wall she sees. Screaming is the only thing she can think of to make sure she's heard by Harry and Andrew.

Behind the masked man are camera monitors and she's drawn to one specific one. The only one Harry is in. His head is down and his steps are cautious. The next room bares Andrew who's roaming the halls almost calmly. She thinks he looks a little pale but the man in front of her clears his throat to pull her attention back to him.

"Delilah." His gloved hand waves in the air as he steps forward, voice very lighthearted. "Hi."

🔪🔪🔪

Harry turns the lighter over in his hand and holds it out to Delilah. His eyes drop to her exposed breasts, the way they rise and descend quickly. It reminds him of what they just finished moments ago.

"Thank you," she loosely locks her hand over it with this look to her face that makes him wonder more about her.

He wants to ask her why it means so much but he knows what privacy means and he knows that if it means so much, she probably won't tell him. And he's okay with that because he would like her to be okay with the fact that he has secrets.

Harry takes a quick turn into another corridor and his body collides with another one. The brown hair and eyes of the man in front of him lets him know it's Andrew, but that's the least of his worries. He doesn't care about Andrew. He cares about the small object that's just fallen out of his pocket and onto the floor. He reaches down to get it so they can finally reach the exit, but his thumb brushes over the small 'D' engraved onto the front.

It suddenly feels heavy in his grip and he looks down to make sure he really knows where he's seen it before.

Andrew sees him looking down at the lighter and casually holds his hand out with a small, uneasy smile. "My lighter," the man reminds him quietly with a wiggle to his fingers.

Harry looks up at him with disinterest of what he wants, picking up on the subtle tone of his voice. He's late. Hell, he's late, but he knows he's heard it before. "It has a D on it." He turns it in his hand. "Why does it have D?"

"It's my dad's." It's a lie. Even Harry knows it. "Stands for David."

"No," he calmly looks up. "That can't be true because it stands for Delilah."

Andrew's eyes widen.

Harry's hand is quick to retrieve the knife from his pocket, and he moves swiftly, lodging the weapon in Andrew's chest just deep enough to puncture something important. Reasoning doesn't matter at this point. He's been wanting to do this for a while now and that's reason enough.

Blood oozes from the man's mouth while Harry holds his body up. A string of crimson falls onto his wrist and makes a thin bracelet around his skin.

"You've called me," Harry turns the knife and breathes out steadily; "but you're not the guy. You're not the one I want." He releases his grip and Andrew drops like dead weight to the floor, now lying in a puddle of his own blood.

He shakes out his shoulders and looks right into the camera in the corner of the hallway, hoping, with every bone in his body, that ShitFace is looking right at him.

He mouths the words, I win.

[this is so close to ending. have a great day/night.]