Stockholm Syndrome [a Harry Styles fanfiction]

Chapter One

HARRY:

What gets me is this: the whole morning went by just as my mornings had since I've joined the band. Totally normal. I woke up a quarter to eight, showered, got dressed, & made my way to the studio. I stopped for a bite to eat on the way, figuring I'd be too engrossed in my work to even remember lunch. I was on my own today. The other lads spent all night writing & recording just a few days ago, but I had been at a local pub. Not drinking, just not knowing how else to waste away my time. We had been on break awhile now-the boys & I. Our third album was about to drop & I guess this break was a way to gear us up for the endless promo we were about to face. But it had been quite long. I wasn't quite sure what to do with myself anymore.

When I finally reached my destination I headed straight to the booth, recording the snippets that we were in need of. It was their polite way of saying, "It wasn't good enough the first time." But I did it regardless, I wanted this album to be just as flawless as they did. Our first two did phenomenal & I didn't want that to be it. I wanted to do this the rest of my life. All of us had put so much into this album. Of coarse we wanted it to do well.

"Okay," the man behind the glass said. "That should be good. Thanks, H."

I nodded, pulling the headphones from my ears. "Mind if I go over a few ideas with you? Regarding a new song?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure."

So the rest of my day was spent writing said song. It had been on my mind for awhile now & that is what I loved about writing. It relieved me of all the stress I'd been dealing with. I guess this journal kinda goes to the same effect.

Paparazzi littered the street as I stepped out into the cool London air. I smiled for a few cameras, answered a few questions, but they just would not go away. It always took a lot to get them to disappear entirely. & by a lot I mean nothing. So I swerved through the grown men with the cameras, all in an attempt to reach my car.

But suddenly I was being hurdled to the ground by one of the men, unable to fight back. He had my arms locked behind my back, his weight sitting heavily on top of me. & I unfortunately don't remember much after that. All I know is somehow that man in the ski mask got me into the back of his car & drove me back to where I am today. A tiny attic with nothing but a bed, a small TV, & a toilet.