bella [harry styles] a.u

Chapter 1

Two Years Later

AnnaBelle

"Jack!" I called from my bedroom upstairs, knowing that his shift at the police station would be starting very, very soon. I crossed my legs on top of my bed, getting comfortable and preparing myself for another lecture from Jack.

"Anna," He paused in my doorway for dramatic effect. "We have cell phones, why the hell would you yell for me when you could easily call or text me all the same?"

"Well I have to show you something." I reasoned with a frown, closing my laptop.

"You could've taken a picture." Jack mumbled, causing me to roll my eyes and get out of bed to gesture towards my window, my white curtains flying upwards because of the wind and the open window. "What?"

"I didn't open my window." I muttered with suspicion in my voice. Jack took several steps towards the open window and moved the curtains to the side, looking out as the September breeze hit his face in our small house.

"Well I didn't either; that's weird." Jack turned to look at me as chills ran up my arms and I seated myself back on top of my bed. "Maybe you sleep walked and opened it?" Jack suggested, turning to me with a hopeless expression.

"I doubt it." I mumbled briefly, noticing the time on my clock along with Jack who quickly ran out of my room without a simple goodbye. I sighed, staring at my open window for a good five minutes before getting up to close it. I knew for a fact that I didn't open it, I've never even thought to open my windows before, there's no reason to in the cold of Cheshire.

Going downstairs out of boredom, although I should've been getting ready for work or studying for my exam in two days, I sat at the kitchen table, deciding to read the newspaper that Jack insisted on paying to get. Unlike me, he actually enjoys reading things on paper and trying to figure out the complicated and large pieces of paper.

Books should be a physical thing, not just a bunch of words you read on the internet. Jack likes to remind me of this on a daily basis every time he catches me reading one of my textbooks online.

The Homicidal Hunter Hunts Again the top news headlines read in big, black, bold letters. I was suddenly intrigued and found my way to page 4A where I was told I could read more about the subject.

And when I come into possession of Bells,

After all of the dirty deeds are done,

She will be mine,

Mine to keep and hold, like I do at midnight.

- H

What struck me were the deep and dark words that were in a photo of a crinkled piece of paper beside an article. "The Homicidal Hunter hunts again, signing his signature 'H' at the end in his perfect cursive handwriting." The caption of the photo glorified the man, and if he did in fact live up to his title, he should be anything but glorified.

This guy was obviously obsessed with whomever or whatever bells was.

My grandma use to have a bell collection, one that I use to look at in awe every time I came to her house on Sundays. Although she was murdered last year, only a month after my parents' murder, it's still a shock that she and them are no longer around. I can still hear the dinging of the bells and the tone in my grandma's voice whenever she'd say she got a bell collection because of my name, Annabelle.

It wouldn't make sense as to why he capitalized the "B" in "Bells" though, although if he's referring to Bells as a person or proper thing, it would.