Effortless (h.s.)

Chapter ONE - distinguishing

I kicked back on my bed in a panic, pushing myself up to the headboard to reach the small white lamp on the nightstand. My throat burned with a panic I didn't know was humanly possible.

All this time, I thought that my life was in absolute shambles and it couldn't get any worse. Now my apartment was being broke into and the invader sounded scary as hell.

I let out a shaky breath, trying to come up with some sort of game plan.

Thud.

With a sudden burst of courage, I crept off my bed and onto the unswept wooden ground. My feet stuck to the humidity resting on the floor, my mind racing a mile per second but I gained comfort now since it was completely silent.

My door creaked loudly when I pulled it open, peering out to see the empty living room and kitchen. All I could see was red lights reading the time from the microwave and stove and light coming in from my open front door.

I peered around and didn't see anyone, so I ran across the small room to the front door.

The chain lock was hanging to the side, I never used it. I usually only locked the door with the key, my mind raked through its memories and I realized I never had locked it.

I mentally scolded myself as I stood out in the bright hallway.

I pushed my hair out of my face, taking in a deep breath and coming to the conclusion that whoever had entered my house, must have left.

They probably were trying to steal something valuable, too bad all I have is clothes from H&M and Goodwill along with a few pots and pans.

I shook it off and walked back into the apartment, turning the light on and opening the door all the way.

A hissed sounded from behind my door and I slammed it shut once I was inside, I practically fell backwards when I saw a man slouched over on the floor. He was wearing a soaked, white t-shirt with a pair of blue flowy sweatpants that had a red strip up the side. His bright yellow low top vans were the last thing I took in before I stumbled over myself to stand back up.

My heart was beating so fast that it started to hurt, was he dead?

As soon as the thought crossed my mind, his head lifted up and he shut his eyes in pain, leaning back onto the wall and falling over to the side.

"Oh my god..." I whispered, my hands were trembling and it was started to spread to my legs. My knees weakened, I reached out to the side table to steady myself but nearly tripped. I couldn't take my eyes away from the sight before me.

I knew him anywhere, Harry Styles was laying on the floor of my apartment.

"Oh my god... oh my god," my anxiety heightened when he didn't knowledge me in the room. I stood a safe distance away, slightly hiding behind the off-pink couch that the apartment was furnished with, "holy shit."

Establishing that I wasn't the only one in the room was a start, I began to look around the place. He had knocked over a glass lamp and it had shattered everywhere, there was drops of blood leading to where he was laying on the floor.

My fear somewhat subsided when I came to the realization that he may be actually hurt. I didn't have time to ask questions or freak out right now, I had to do something.

He wasn't moving, so I was under no real threat.

I hurried over to the blue colored bathroom, reaching over the pale blue porcelain sink to the medicine cabinet for the first aid kit. My nervous hands were no real help, trying to unzip the bag was challenging and took a while.