Stuck » h.s. (UNDER EDITING)

seventeen

EMMA'S POV:

Forceful wind threatens to send my trembling body over the edge of this skyscraper. A flag dances in the air making loud whips as it moves back and forth. The bones in my body feel as if they have all cracked and I'm limp.

My dampened eyes stare into the dark sky, illuminated by trillions of twinkling lights that us humans have named stars. I'm greeted with darkness as my eyelids shut when Harry's lips brush against mine, his tongue swiping against mine.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers against my skin. "Too bad I have to kill you."

My eyes shoot open and I'm no longer looking into bright, forest green eyes, but dark and cold ones. Shawn's. He holds a knife at my neck, grinning evilly and applying enough pressure to draw blood to the surface. In a swift motion, he slices open my skin and drags it across my cheek next.

"Harry!" The name comes out strangled and hoarse.

"Harry is dead. I told you I would kill anyone you cared about if you didn't listen to me. So I shot him. Your knight in shining armor isn't around anymore. No white horse for your blood to stain."

Oh God. He killed him. My boyfriend. My protector. The love of my life. Oh no.

"You don't have to do this. You can walk away now," I choke.

"It's already done. Time to die, bitch," he snickers, driving the blade straight into my chest. My eyes widen and I become still. I look down and watch my white blouse turn into a sea of red.

I hear gun shots and yelling. The last thing I see before everything fades away is Louis standing with a dead expression, a gun in his shaking hand, and his shirt soaked with Shawn's blood and quite possibly his.

I shoot up, colliding into a rock hard surface. I thrash around and cry, begging the thing to let go of me.

"Emma, shhh. Please. It's me. It's just me."

Harry?

A pool of green colors my vision and I relax. My breathing is still heavy and beads of sweat roll down my face and collect on my chest. I must've fallen asleep on the couch.

"How- how did you get in here?"

"You left your door unlocked. I guess you just fell asleep. I heard you screaming and came over."

I have had this same type of dream eight times in the past week. Ever since I received that letter-which I still haven't read- the same dream from when I first moved in won't stop. It's never exactly the same. The situation is, but it's always a little bit different, normally the location.

"Well, thank you for coming to check on me. It was very kind of you," I say, kind of embarrassed that this is the second time he's seen me having a nightmare and had to take care of me.

"Don't thank me. I don't care about your gratitude or any apologies you'll try to feed me. I just want to know if you're okay." he tells me, pulling my sweaty body against his tattoo covered torso, lacking a shirt. "Are you? Okay, I mean."

"No."

"Well, then let's go."

"Go where?"

"You're coming to spend the night with me, silly."

There's no protesting coming from me. Right now, I want nothing more than to lie in his bed with his toned arms wrapping me in warmth.

I follow him without saying a word. His apartment is the same as it was a week ago when we had dinner. He keeps the lights off and hugs me close. "Go to sleep," he whispers and kisses my forehead. I let myself mold into his body and relax, all of my worries slipping away.