Temptation [Harry Styles AU]

Anxiety

"Sutton, wake up. It's time for your lunch duty," Sydney said, shaking me, trying to wake me up from my power nap.

"Ugh..." I groaned, sitting up; wiping my tired eyes. I shouldn't have to do this. Just a minor wrinkle in my uniform, could have me cleaning all the walls on the entire 50th floor, with just a toothbrush. Mr. Blake is a very cruel man.

I was about to check my appearance in the mirror, when a thought ran through my head.

"Sydney, did the guards ever bring Ally Wethers to your office to have a physical examination before they moved her to her new floor?" I asked, pinning up my long curls into a ponytail.

"Who's Ally Wethers?" She asked, scrunching her eyebrows together, her fingers fiddling with piles of paperwork.

"I guess not..." I muttered to myself. I walked over to the nurse's cabinet, and pulled open the drawer; grabbing a new row of sedatives. I quickly slipped them into my pocket, hoping to never have to use one again. But deep down inside I knew that Ally Wethers wouldn't be the last person I'd have to sedate.

"After your punishments, we should go out to eat for lunch. Would you want to?" She asked, smiling. My lips curved upwards into a smile, before I nodded my head quickly.

"Don't quit talking on me now. I thought we had some improvement," she said, chuckling. I simply shrugged, my smile barely visible. That was probably all the talking they would hear for a month.

I quickly waved, letting her know that I was leaving, before I walked out of the Nurse's Office. I could hear claps of thunder outside, shaking the ground beneath my feet. Goosebumps quickly arose on my skin, chills running down my spine. I've never really liked stormes, let alone been in one while in a Mental Institution.

The lights began to flicker, as I walked, but that was normal. No matter how bad a storm can get, we have at least 100 generators connected to every power system on every floor of The Glennsdale Mental Institution; keeping power running no matter how bad the storm can get.

I took a left around a corner of the wall, following the arrows to the Patient's Cafeteria. I sighed, knowing how boring the next hour would be. I would be sitting at a table in the very back of the cafeteria, making sure no patients freak out, and sedate them if they do.

I slowly pushed open the doors to the cafeteria, to see the patient's sitting at different tables by themselves. Some were just staring at the walls, talking to themselves, or picking at their food; staring aimlessly into it.

I sighed, before I slowly walked to the back of the cafeteria. I walked up the the cold brick wall, and slid my back down on it, to where my bum touched the ground. I buried my face into my hands, and rubbed along my eyes, trying to wake myself up.

Right when I took my hands off of my face I could feel a disturbance in the air. I scrunched my eyebrows together to see, the cafeteria doors open. The patient's expressions were priceless as the new coming patient, Harry Styles, walked in, a smirk plaster across his face. Without thinking twice, you could already tell that the patients feared him. Danger basically was written all over his body. The navy blue jumpsuit was already on his body, fitting his muscular body perfectly. Usually the suits are big on the patients, but on him it for perfectly.

My breath hitched as his smirk grew bigger, and as he changed his direction, headed to where I was sitting. The chains wrapped around his hands clinked as he walked. My heart began to beat against my chest louder as he got closer to me.

I tore my gaze from him, and tried to glue my attention elsewhere, trying to calm my anxiety down. I could feel it building up in my chest, my vision darkening.

Breath, Sutton. Breath.

"Hello there," he said, leaning his back against the wall like me. His voice was deep and husky, and just by two words it was raspy and sexy.

"Hi," I whispered, the word almost disappeared into the thin air. I still refused to look at him, in fear that I would have an anxiety attack. How could someone burn down a house full of their family?

"So you're a quiet one, eh?" He asked. I simply shrugged, my stomach clenching as he slowly slid down, setting his bum against the cold concrete floor as well.

"Are you just naturally quiet, or are you scared of me?" He asked, lighting a cigarette, before slipping it between his plum lips.

I didn't answer, I just stared down at my hands as I fiddled with my fingers.

He just chuckled quietly to himself, taking in a puff of his cigarette. "I take it as both?" He said, blowing out the smoke that was in his mouth, letting it trail up to my nose almost causing me to choke.

"At least tell me your name," "Or are you that afraid to speak?" He joked, sticking the cigarette back in between his lips.

"I'm not fucking afraid to speak," I growled, his face completely in shock by my words. He wasn't the only one shocked by my words, I've never snapped at someone like that, let alone cursed.

"So you've got some fire in ya," he chuckled, taking another puff of his cigarette.

"So, Pigeon. What's your name?" He asked, blowing out the smoke one last time.

"S-Sutton..." I stuttered, my big brown eyes meeting his forest green ones.

"Beautiful name," he stated. "Sutton," he said to himself, my name rolling off his tongue perfectly.

"T-thank you..." I whispered, my anxiety building up even more, my
body beginning to feel tired and lightheaded.

"Why are you so scared of me?" He asked, drawing out a long string of smoke. I stared at him with a dumbfounded look on my face.

He can't be serious.

"Well it's not like you didn't burn down a house with your family along with it," I whispered, trying to raise my voice as much as I could.

His face contracted, and his jaw clenched. "And you believe that?" He asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Why else would you be in here?" I asked, as if it was the stupidest question ever.

"Ever thought that I might've been framed?"

"I seriously doubt that. You could ask every patient in here, and they'd say the same thing," I mumbled, fiddling with my fingers.

"Well I'm not like every patient in here," he stated, taking another puff of his cigarette.

"Obviously," I said, rolling my eyes. Where is this confidence coming from?

He just chuckled, before standing back up on his feet.

"Well it was nice to meet you, Sutton. I hope I see you again, soon. I'm almost sure that we will, though," he said, before winking at me; shooting fear through my chest.

He dropped his cigarette on the ground, before stepping on it.

His smirk curled up on his lips once more, before he walked over to his two waiting guards letting them grab his arms, before taking him back to his cell.

I just had a conversation with a killer.

With out passing out.

If that isn't progress, then I don't know what is.