weapons † hs [two]

3. stalking

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"There he is! That's him!" I took Ryan's arms and lugged him closer to a large tree nearby to spy behind, pointing off into the near distance of this quaint, empty park we're in to Harry's back that's facing us.

"Go on, go talk to him," my best friend encouraged me, pushing my back out from the tree's cover excitedly.

I stood up straight, dusted myself off, and began to head towards him, every fiber in my being buzzing with anxiety and happiness, the chilly wind of the night air pushing along behind me towards the man I loved.

He was standing still in front of a park bench, his short hair reflecting the light of the street lamps that lined the walk way.

"Harry!" I called out from ten feet away, my voice caught in the breeze.

He didn't seem to hear me, too busy with whatever he was messing with in front of him.

Tentatively, I stepped closer to him by a couple of feet, not wanting to scare him as I gently repeated, "Harry—"

The thrill in my greeting halted when I gasped, Harry turning around, his face, and shirt covered in blood.

But the majority of the blood was on the knife gripped as an extension of his hand.

A lifeless woman laid sprawled on the park bench behind him, her body freshly impaled by the weapon, ravaged and ruined by his doing. My hands immediately covered my mouth, unsure if I might vomit at the horrific chaos he manifested.

"Long time no see," he chuckled those familiar words, menacing, crazy eyes darting to me, then back to the knife that he twirled intimidatingly on his index finger.

Speechless, I noticed his body gravitating towards mine, and I started to move away, peeking back only to realize the tree behind had vanished, Ryan along with it; no one could've helped me now. When I shifted my gaze back to Harry, he was suddenly inches in front of me with a evil, dimpled smirk, arching a sharp brow.

I looked up, feeling tiny and weak against him as he tilted his head to the side, peering at me with a dark twinkle in his eye.

"C'mon, love. Are you scared?" he belittled me with a scoff. "That's tough of you."

I attempted to avoid eye contact, wanting to turn and run away from this stranger in front of me; the Harry I knew was far gone.

"Look at me," Harry commanded of me, and when I didn't listen, he stipulated my head from turning away, bloody hands grabbing onto my chin and holding me there.