Hidden In Hell//Harry Styles

Chapter Three [3]

Chapter Three [3]

In a devasting way, I slowly wakeup reluctantly as I begin to notice the uncomfortable state I'm in. The first thing my eyes lay sight on is the blood stained concrete walls ahead of me. My heart is still pounding from adrenaline. The bitter taste of metallic copper like rich iron is resting on my dry crisp tongue.

A powerful, sticky substance was fastened onto my chapped lips with unbelievable skin attraction onto both my wrists and ankles.

Every fiber in my body was aching and felt stiff as I just sit here in silence alone in this empty blood-stained room on the cold concrete floor. I try to recollect the memories from last night, but I can't seem to bring myself to it.

But, I'm quickly reminded when the familiar sound of boots thudding against the concrete floor approach. Fear overrules my body and I begin to shake as the loud steps come closer, until the figure is in view, just standing, his clear jade eyes staring like a demon into my soul.

He tugs at the roots of his brown curly hair as he enters the room, his poisonous eyes still locked onto mine. The stranger stopped pacing in his tracks, and began his way over towards me, with an ill smirk plastered across his dimpled face.

"Glad you're awake, yeah?" He spoke with a familiar British thick accent and nothing else but toxin as he leaned in closer to me. I whimpered underneath the sticky substance across my lips, but my weak voice only came out as a muffle.

He rolled his eyes bitterly while opening his black leather jacket only to expose a dangerous handgun.

I can feel the salt water tears already brimming at the rim of my eyes as my vision started to blur.

"Do you know what this is?" He spoke with hostility. I shook my head weakly, fear still taking captive of my body. He chuckled with venom before continuing.

"This, this is the S&W Model 500, the world’s most powerful handgun." He boasted, twisting the gun around his finger.

Just as he raised an eyebrow at me, I noticed the pieces of metal that were stuck on his face. He had a lower lip piercing and an eyebrow piercing.

"Do you want to test it out?" He cackled, the thought filled me with loathe.

He tossed the pistol back into his jacket out of sight, and kneeled down next to me.

"When I take off the tape, you only make a sound when you're responding to me. Got it?" He commanded, and I shakily nodded my head. With no mercy, he peeled off the tape in a flash and I screamed at the harsh burn it left.

Just as I screamed, his palm smacked the back of my head and I winced in pain.

"Shut up," He demanded as he forcefully turned me around, my face making contact with the cold concrete floor. Suddenly I hear a pocket knife sling open, and I jerk around trying to see what this stranger is doing.

"Relax; I'm cutting you lose, damn." He muttered as his dagger made contact with the sticky tape. Once my wrists were free, I caressed them, massaging them slowly to ease the pain. They were a deep red and almost purple, the grip on the tape was terribly strong.

I felt an immense, strong tight grip on my forearm, and it wasn't soon until I was facing the ceiling, as he slit the dagger through the tape suffocating my ankles.

By then, my ankles were purple and even he winced at the sight. An emotion flashed in his eyes... Was it care? I wasn't sure; it was gone as quick as it came.

"I'll be right back. Stay here or else," He threatened, and he didn't even need to finish the sentence. He stormed out of the room and soon his boots were no longer to be heard. 

A normal person would probably escape for their lives, but I was too terrified and frightened for my life. So I sat there, as if my bottom was glued to the cold floor and just rubbed my ankles and wrists slowly.

I miss my family, I miss Jace, I miss Whiskey. I miss home. And I haven't any idea when the next time it would be that I would even see them again, or if I would see them again.

I bowed my head and set a quick prayer to God.

God, please, please aid me in some kind of way. I'm stuck in hell, I fear for my life and I'm scared. I'm hurt, please take away the pain and give me some more hope, get me out of here. I miss my dear family and friends, and my horse Whiskey.  Please get me out of here, I pray in your name Amen.

Just as I looked up, the sounds of his boots screamed into my ears as he was getting closer.

When he came into view, he had a white box in his hand.

First aid kit..?

He padded over to me, sat beside me and opened the box with dreadful eyes.

I flinched when he touched me, but he quickly snapped.

"I'm trying to help you; I can't help you if you're gonna be fucking scared all the damn time."

I kept my mouth shut and didn't speak a single word as he aided me, and neither did he.

Until he had broken the comforting silence.

"I suppose you're wondering why you're here, who I am, and when you're leaving," His jade eyes met mine, and I nodded for him to continue. I did want to know all these things, especially the last one.

"Listen, whatever I say goes, okay? The more you obey, the quicker your ass is out." He stated as if this was an everyday thing. My mouth spoke before my mind, and I choked out on my own words.

"W-what if, I uh, don't-don't do what you say?"

He looked up at me with a hint of amusement in his eyes and a devilish smirk.

"Oh, so you do speak?" He half laughs, raising an eyebrow at me.

What was this guy’s name? As if on que, he answered my simple question.

"My name is Harry Styles, and don't bother telling me your name because I already know every last detail about you, love." He smirked, and I gaped. How?

"Let's see if I did my research well enough. Ryder Lance Rivers- Tall, muscular lean guy, dark scruffy hair, ocean blue eyes, he hates spiders, he has a growing fear of heights, absolutely has a burning hatred towards Jason John Shields, all over a girl and popularity. Was the Captain of the football team, he was on the wrestling team, and even played baseball with Mr. Shields. Now, he's a wasted alcoholic and is a dreadful womanizer. He was born March 3rd, 1996." He took a breath before continuing, "Jason John Shields- Attends Ridgewood High School as a Junior, blonde hair, brown eyes, tan, muscular, in love with his best friend and missing her might I add, he's head of the baseball team, and was born April 9th, 1997. Oh and let's not forget the reason why we're both here- Brooke Rose Rivers. At seventeen years young, she was born June 17th, 1997. She has long black silky hair, crystal blue eyes, and a slim figure with curves in all the right places," He winks before continuing, "She's oblivious that her best friend is in love with her, and she only shares a small crush for him. But as if for right now? That beautiful girl, Brooke Rose Rivers, is hidden in hell and there isn't a damn thing she can do about it."

He finishes, and I'm found dumbstruck and shocked.

He smirks, "Shall I continue, yeah?"