his head lifts slowly and dull green irises scan over the guard. they're cold, containing no emotion whatsoever. it terrifies the tall man in the doorway, making him struggle with the task of forming words.
"on your feet inmate."
the eyes are unchanging. they still slice through the very fibre of the fearless officer, making his hands shake slightly as he reaches for his handcuffs.
the white jumpsuit shifts. slowly, the crumpled figure raises to his feet. skeletal arms stick out in front of the prisoner and cuffs are tightly clasped to them.
for the first time in the three years he's been locked up, harry styles has a visitor.
