Psychotic (A Harry Styles Fanfiction)

Chapter 42

CHAPTER 42

HARRY'S POV

It started with a nightmare.

The days dragged on through piercing screams, crazed mumbled whispers, interminable minutes alone, and the all-too-short minutes spent with Rose. It was sleeping, breakfast, lunch, dinner, then sleeping again, with shitty group activities scattered in between. It was all routine. All of it bland and dull. Nothing was out of the ordinary, or what was ordinary for an insane asylum. The employees were doing their jobs and the patients were doing whatever it was they did.

Or at least that was how it seemed to everyone except our small, hopeful group of four. But we were definitely up to something behind the scenes. Lori and Kelsey were discreetly getting us what we needed with the utmost caution, while Rose and I put on our best this-institution-sucks-too-bad-we'll-be-here for the-rest-of-our-lives faces. And I had to give Lori and Kelsey props, because they were risking their jobs for us. Despite my attitude I really was grateful, especially to Lori, who which I had always been thankful for. Although I couldn't wrap my head around the reason, they seemed to be loyally rooting for us.

And now we had a plan in the works. It was a very risky, very specific yet roughly put together plan. But if we had even the smallest chance of getting out of here in the next couple weeks, I was on board. Because each torturing second in Rose's presence was a reminder of what might happen if we stay. I needed to get her out of here and fast. Fast, though, wasn't what I had received. We muddled through the days with an agonizing patience, like traveling across a lazy river when we should be zooming down a water slide.

Until that nightmare. Everything started to pick up after that horrible damn nightmare. It started just like the rest. It was cold and black and I was completely oblivious to any danger lurking in the dark. Except this time I started running. I couldn't remember what from, exactly, and all I could see was the faint outline of disfigured trees. My feet carried me along with the wind rustling through my hair and fanning my skin. I ran and ran, as if it were a race to the finish, with a speed my smoking lungs could barely keep up with. And something like an electric current carried adrenaline throughout my hurtling body. I started to feel a stirring excitement while I just sprinted across that soft grass under my bare feet. The wind carried me with it while it roared through my ears, and my heart was pounding, and I just kept growing faster and faster and faster. It had been a long time since I had been outside since being locked up and I felt so invincible in that moment.

Locked up. My exhilarated mind pondered that. Locked up? Where had I been where they had to lock me up?

Wickendale.

I suddenly remembered why I had been running. My quick feet started to slow and my thrilled smile started to fade. There was something I was forgetting. There was something missing. My legs slowed to a jog. The now terrifying black trees seem to shape the harsh sky as if to remind me that I was in danger. I began to walk. A crow dipped low from the sky above and cawed through the dark with another warning. My heart still pulsed like crazy in my chest, but not from exhaustion. The air hung low in whips of fog. There was a very ominous, very on-edge feeling in the transparent purple of the atmosphere. It made goosebumps rise on my skin and made the hairs on my neck stand up.

But I reluctantly trudged through the fog, past the grass and the intimidating trees. The ground sloped a little, downhill towards what looked like water in the distance. My eyes peered through the thick air which parted to reveal a sort of lake. Even that, though, didn't seem to feel right. But I couldn't go back. So I approached the edge of the land and stood for a moment, listening for any sounds that would confirm my fearful suspicions. I looked out into the pale grey of the ripples beneath the twilight, looking for a possible predator.