Silent Screams » Harry Styles

Chapter 3

My eyes flutter open, and my head is clouded. My eyelids feel heavy and my movements are lethargic. I hold my hand up to see that I am not strapped to the bed. If there really was a criminal in my house, they would have been smart enough to strap me to the bed and keep me hostage. I move my legs to see that I am completely free. I sit up in my bed and laugh lightly.

“It was all a dream,” I touch the back of my hand to my forehead

“It wasn’t a dream.” I snap my head to the side to find the source of the voice

When I see the same pale face in front of me as I did yesterday, my heart drops. I get a sick feeling in my stomach, and I can feel all the color drain from my face. I bolt to the door to see that the knob is broken and the door is nailed shut. I run over to the window to see wooden panels keeping me from climbing out.

I punch the boards of wood again and again until my knuckles turn a bright red and start to bleed. There are beads of sweat on my forehead, and I feel like the room just went up by twenty degrees. I turn around to see the man standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. His hair covers half of his forehead, and his eyes are wide with amusement.

“You can’t get out.” he says calmly

“Why are you doing this? Leave me alone!” I shriek

He walks over to me, slowly and confidently. He stands up tall with poise, as he gets closer. The closer he gets, the younger he looks. The features in his face are sharp, and his eyes are a dark shade that they are almost black. Dark eyelashes frame his eyes, making him look even more menacing.

He runs his hand up and down my arm softly. His touch his rough, but soft at the same time. His calloused hand sends shivers down my spine. His chest is level with my face, and he smells like mint, and faintly of metal. I’m small compared to him, I feel so insignificant. His hand travels from my arms, to my collarbone, to my neck, and he cups my cheek.

“Frail little thing aren’t you?” he asks quietly, a smile tugging at his lips

I’m too shocked and afraid to move away from him; and I feel if I do, he’ll kill me. I have to obey him now, and I can rebel later. If I try to work against him now, he won’t trust me. I need to build trust with him first, and then I can stab him in the back. I will let him do anything he wants, as long as that means I stay alive.

I take a step back, and he smiles.

“Afraid of me?” he asks amused

“Why wouldn’t I be? You’re a murderer.” I say harshly

He raises his eyebrows and lowers his voice, “Making assumptions about a stranger I see.”

“Well you’re the most wanted criminal. You must have done something really bad.” I state

He takes a step towards me, and I take another step back.

“Don’t get close to me.” I demand

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says and I scoff

“I highly doubt that.”

“Maybe I just want some company. I get awfully lonely.”

I point at the door and say, “Well if this is your way of bonding then I see why people don’t want to hang out with you.”

“Plus, who wants to hang out with the most wanted criminal in America?”

“You’re too quick to judge people.” he looks down

“I have every right to judge you.” I roll my eyes

Thankfully I have a bathroom in my room, and I open the door and shut it. I splash cold water on my face, and wash up. I brush my tangled, unruly hair and let it down. I turn the shower on, and take my clothes off. I step in the steaming shower, and the water relaxes my muscles. After I’m finished, I step out and put a robe around my body.

I look in the mirror, and I see a weak and average girl. I have brown hair, and brown eyes, and a pale skin tone. I put my clothes on, and roll up my sleeves. I see that the cut hasn’t closed yet, and I wash the dry blood from my wrist. I put Neosporin on the cut, and put a band aid over it again. My eyes have bags under them, and I look like I haven’t slept in days. I take as much time in the bathroom as I can before I have to face the criminal in my bedroom. I nearly laugh at how ridiculous that sounds. Out of all the houses, he chose mine.

I open the bathroom door, and he’s sitting on my bed, waiting for me. He stands up, and he’s a giant compared to me. He’s at least 6”3, and really fit. He wears jeans that hang loosely on his hips and a black t-shirt that molds to his body. I hate to say this, but he’s actually quite attractive for a serial killer. I mentally scold myself for being sexually attracted to him, but I can’t help myself. He just looks so…hot.

I would have a crush on him if he weren’t a criminal. Girls like me could only dream of dating guys like him. I’ve only had one boyfriend before- and he broke up with me for another girl. I was heartbroken, and he was the first boy I ever loved. I never loved any boy after him. While we were dating, girls were jealous and started making rumors about me. That’s where the bullying really began.

People started making fun of me, and calling me names. At first, they only cyber bullied me, and then they started physically hurting me. I’m not a pretty girl, and they always made fun of my appearance. They called me emo because I always wore black. They called me a loser because nobody ever sat with me at lunch. I was called so many horrible names that I would rather not repeat.

I sit down on the opposite sit of my bed from him, and he turns to look at me. He motions for me to come closer to him, and I shake my head. He grabs my waist and pulls me close to him. I sit rigidly, and uncomfortable near him. He makes me feel awkward and small, but I have to remember my plan. Do what he wants, and then turn him into the police.

He puts his hand on my thigh, and puts his face near my neck.

“W-What are you doing?” I stammer

“We’re just going to have some fun,” he kisses my neck and I squirm under his touch.

His hands roam around my body, and it hits me. He’s going to rape me.