Hidden In Hell//Harry Styles

Chapter One [1]

Chapter One [1]

The warm spring breeze kisses my tanned tone skin, the wind howling against my ears, sending my silky smooth midnight black hair passionately flowing behind me.

 Shifting the reins to fit my small hands, I yank tightly on the fabric and pull towards the left, leading my Quarter horse galloping further down the dry rocky dirt trials, where my family's ranch is appearing in view.

 I tighten my grip on my legs, and tap Whiskey's behind lightly with the spurs with my thick charcoal colored boots, signaling Whiskey to accelerate his trot into a galloping pace.

 Sounds of heavy hooves pounding into the dirt harshly come from behind me, accelerating closer and within seconds, a tacked up chestnut colored American Saddle bred is accompanied next to me, locked in the same heavily galloping pace as me. Riding the beautiful Saddle bred is my childhood best friend, Jace Shields. His scruffy thick blonde hair wrestles in the wind, his caramel eyes melting against the sun. He turns towards me with a small bright half smile, and I return the sweet simple gesture.

As we ride closer to the stables, the long worn down hitching post appears in view. I lean back on the reins, and Whiskey immediately downs his pace, slowing into a stop in front of the post. I shift my left leg over the saddle, leaping off to the ground. I pull the reins over his head, and hitch him onto the post.

I take a moment to admire the black beauty standing before me. This is the same horse that has been hooked to my hip since birth. Whiskey and I both celebrate our birthdays on the same day and year. May 10th, 1998. We're both sixteen years young.

 Whiskey is a racing type Quarter Horse. He's fifteen hands tall, weighing a whopper 1,100 pounds on the dot. He has a small short, refined head with a straight profile, and a strong smoothed muscled body, featuring a broad chest and powerful, rounded high quarters. He's very people oriented, easily backed and handled, he obeys commands instantly.  Even though he's bred a racing structure horse, I don't actually race him, at all. After my older brother Ryder was in an accident involving horses, my parents strictly refuse to allow me to do anything other than trail riding on a horse, and sometimes when they're in a good mood, they allow me to perform dressage. With their super vision, of course..

 Let's just say I consider myself lucky that my parents even allow me to go trial riding alone after the tragic incident.

"Want to grab a snack?" Jace’s deep voice breaks me from my trance, and I immediately face my attention towards him.

 "Sure," I agree, and we both head our way to my house, which wasn't far from our hitching post.

~♥~

 As we enter the kitchen, a lady with black smooth hair held as a pony tail tight on her head comes into view. My mother. She’s standing beside the counter, where she has already prepared an appetizing snack of sliced red juicy, sweet sliced apples with smooth, sticky creamy caramel sauce.

 Jace and I instantly fill our mouths with the tasty treat, and I think I almost moan at the sweet sensation of the caramel dancing on my tongue.

 "How was the trail ride?" My mother questions us as we both take sips of our water, while taking a seat at the thick oak dining table.

 "Good," I answer for the both of us, glancing out the clear window in the dining room, seeing my father unhitch Whiskey and lead him to the stalls.

When turn blankly towards each other when loud boots dragging across the hardwood floors ring into our ears.

 Moments later, an angry Ryder stomps into the dining room. He runs his large fingers through his black, thick scruffy hair. His piercing blue eyes scan around the dining room, and he stops dead in his tracks when his eyes rest coldly on Jace’s caramel eyes.