alters

01

DREMWELL MENTAL INSTITUTION

GUARDIAN PLEASE FILL OUT THIS FORM.

NAME OF PATIENT (FULL): Harold Edward Styles

AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 4 years old. October 30th, 1992

LIVING PARENTS BY BLOOD (PLEASE STATE IF UNKNOWN): Dimitri Styles. Larissa Styles.

PLEASE CHECK OFF FOLLOWING SYMPTOMS OF PATIENT:

DEPRESSION: yes

ANXIETY: yes

DIFFICULTY MAKING AND KEEPING FRIENDS: yes

BULLYING: no

SELF HARM: no

ABNORMAL RAGE: yes

DOING POORLY IN SCHOOL: no

EXCESSIVE NEED TO BE ALONE: yes

UNCONTROLLABLE EMOTIONS (BIPOLAR): yes

DIFFICULTY SOCIALIZING WITH OTHER PEOPLE: yes

Dimitri was sick looking at all of the words below him in the sheet of paper. They were taking his son away from him, and now he was forced to write down why. It was gut twisting as he glanced up and observed the thrashing boy with curls fighting against the men in white. ʻʻHarry...ʼʼ He sighed as he began to scribble things down on the page. Harry deserves this for what he tried to do to Lillian. Dimitri convinced himself, even though saying that in his head felt wrong.

Harry was only four, he couldnʼt be mad. He was perfectly sane, and now all of this felt wrong. As if he were sending his own son to his death.

ʻʻSee you soon, son,ʼʼ Dimitri whispered quietly. ʻʻIn hell.ʼʼ

___

PRESENT DAY

ALICE

ʻʻAlice...ʼʼ

I groan and shift my head in refusal. A finger pokes at my sleeping figure, arousing me from my slumber.

ʻʻAliceee,ʼʼ Emma sings, softly shaking my shoulders.

I deny her attempts to wake me, which only results in her severe shoulder shaking me. I jump up from the desk top, the lights suddenly jumping into my eyes. Emma, my English teacher, smiles satisfied at me. Her smile is the biggest light of all. I mumble a curse and rub my eyes. ʻʻWhat time is it?ʼʼ

ʻʻForty minutes past dismissal. I wanted to see how long youʼd last this time but I have somewhere I need to be.ʼʼ She states then moves to stand. I follow suit, stretching out my sore back.

ʻʻForty minutes? Does that mean everybody left?ʼʼ I ask lamely.

ʻʻUm...yeah...yeah I think so.ʼʼ She confirms after a momentʼs hesitation and a glance into the hallway. ʻʻThe only people I know that are supposed to be here after hours is the principal and the new kid who heʼs showing around the school.ʼʼ

I grin at her kindness, glad to have such a sweet teacher as a friend. She was my motherʼs best friend, once upon a time, before the day that changed everything. Then she became a social outcast, like me. I could relate to her and she to me, and since sheʼs only twenty-eight and looks better than I do, we became friends. Without my parentʼs knowledge, of course.

ʻʻNow get out so I can leave.ʼʼ She demands playfully, gently smacking at my arm. A quick, brief laugh leaves me as I roll my eyes at her.

ʻʻIʼll have you arrested for student abuse.ʼʼ

ʻʻYeah, yeah.ʼʼ She mocks and turns to pack up her things at her desk.

I shrug my bag onto my shoulder, glancing at her. The crave finally overwhelms me and I reach into the pocket of my book bag. I fish around for a pause before extracting the package of cigarettes. I rapidly bring one to my lips and light it, hoping Emma wonʼt mind my impatience. A dusty cloud of smoke weaves out from my lips as I puff the toxins out, sighing at the release.

As I push open the door and step out of the classroom I collide with a muscular chest. A boy, dressed in black and very, very tall. I gaze up, peering through the smoke at the boy with curly hair staring down at me.

Um, who is this? Iʼve never seen him before in my life. He retreats back a few paces, before a small, simple smirk curls his lips. He reaches forward with two fingers, trapping my cigarette in his hold. Silently he brings it back to his mouth and inhales.

I mentally debate over my options: turn and walk away like nothing happened, or ask for my cigarette back. I know itʼs just a cigarette and that I can light another one, but if I did that I would have to look away from this tremendously gorgeous boy. He pulls out the cigarette, blowing the fumes onto my face. He breathes out a quiet, ʻʻWouldnʼt want the principal to see you with that, love.ʼʼ

I stare at his intoxicating eyes, colored a vibrant green. Just as I breathe in the smoke Mr. Ferns, the principal, is shrieking at the top of his lungs. ʻʻMr. Styles! I know you are new here but smoking in a school that has a multitude of signs that clearly say no smoking? Really?ʼʼ

ʻʻSorry, sir.ʼʼ The British boy murmurs and Mr. Ferns continues down the hall expecting Styles to follow. But before he does he looks back at me, elongates his tongue, and stuffs the burning end of the cigarette against the moist surface. The fire extinguishes and leaves me breathless as he flicks it into the nearest garbage can.

The way his eyes flashed over mine...itʼs as if he were saying ʻʻyouʼre welcome.ʼʼ

___

OKAY! So I know this chapter got deleted and this isnʼt as good as the original, but please PLEASE keep reading bc I tried my best to remember how I did the first copy.

Please vote and comment because it is very encouraging :)