Open Your Eyes \\ Harry Styles

Chapter 9

Emerson's POV

I was torn between running to Harry and begging for him to save me and getting this crazy old man to stop stabbing me repetitively with a butter knife.

A blunt butter knife.

It's also plastic.

Fuck My Life With A Cactus.

I looked up at Harry who was staring at the girl lying in the ground and just when I thought he couldn't see me, he looked straight at me.

Our eyes locked and I could no longer feel the annoying think being driven into my back.

I could feel a pain much, much worse.

My back arched and I collapsed completely as the searing pain went up my spine.

I let out a scream and Harry began frantically knocking on the door.

I began to scratch at the hot skin on my arms and chest.

This pain was unbearable.

I couldn't begin to explain how much it hurt.

He blinked in confusion as I writhed in pain.

Not even a split second had passed and he was already knocking on the door like crazy.

"Emerson! Emerson! Someone help! Something's happening to her!" he yelled not breaking eye contact.

It wasn't clear what was causing the pain but, pain or not, I was determined to keep my eyes locked on his.

I was afraid.

Afraid that if I looked away for just a split second he would be gone.

Just another memory floating around.

Out of my reach.

Teasing me as it came closer but then pulling back.

Catching glimpses of the memory, then trying to forget it all over again.

That gave me a reason to stay away from people and people to stay away from me.

I thought that if I lost eye contact for a few seconds I would be soon lying in bed, restless and in desperate need of sleep- trying to get this 'figment of my imagination' out of my head.

Tears seemed to be the only consistent thing in my life.

Tears and a never ending trail of confusion, leading me nowhere.

Obviously at this point to have a god seemed ridiculous.

Not that I didn't believe in The God.

It's just that I didn't have a god.

Just demons.

Fallen Angels if you must, but not a god.

Unless by god, you mean; tormentor.

Then, I guess, I do have a god.

I felt like mounds of ice had toppled onto my head as the cold seeped through my skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

My body convulsed in pure pain and cold and my eyes rolled back in my head leaving me in the horrifying darkness of my own mind.

The contact was lost.

Along with the memories.

•

Harry's POV

By the time someone had heard me and ran to my aid it was too late.

For me the pain was bearable; only a little knot in my stomach, but something told me it was more painful for her.