CAPTIVE {H.S}

6

/HARRY STYLES/

Staring ahead, the morning light is dimmed in the room as all the curtains were closed, casting a shadowy gloom over everything. The once vibrant colours of my belongings now appeared muted, as if mirroring the impending doom I felt inside.

Two weeks... Two weeks, and I'll be damned. Two weeks, and everything I have will be gone. Two weeks, and all I've ever dreamt about will be crushed under my dad's boots.

It's not about the girl. It's about the idea itself. The huge step called marriage that I skipped too many steps to get to. Not my choice and against my will. The weight of that reality pressed down on me like a suffocating blanket.

I wanted to be free and careless. Live with no worries, with no restrictions. Graduate from college and fly. To be with no borders and no home. To love a different girl every night. To break rules and hearts.

Yes, I wanted to be a normal guy. Just like I wished to be a normal kid and a normal teenager before; but that never happened, so why now?

Being an asshole, rude, manwhore, and villain face. That's what people know me for. And that is who I truly am. The mask I wore was easier to maintain than the truth beneath it.

I just... it's just... I'm never happy. So why can other people be? Right? The bitterness of this thought gnawed at me, festering into a deeper resentment.

Always being watched and judged and guilt-trapped, and all I do is just live. Can't people just let me live as I want, as I wish? If I am a fuck-up, let me be. What's your fucking problem with that? It's my life. My decision.

I'm exhausted. The frustration I feel is reflected in the mirror in front of me. Bags under my eyes and the messed-up long hair that I have no intention to cut soon. Besides the fucking hickey on my jawline, also reflecting the wildness of last night. A stark reminder of my attempts to escape reality, even if just for a few hours.

Being a very well-known face nowadays and being engaged to another very fucking well-known face is the cause of paying 5,000 pounds to a random stupid chick for a night. She's stupid to leave such a mark in such an obvious place. But maybe I'm the stupid one, thinking I could keep my private rebellions hidden from the prying eyes of the world.

The irony was not lost on me. I had all the money and freedom one could ask for, yet I was a prisoner to expectations and obligations. I wanted to scream, to punch something, to break free from this invisible cage. But all I could do was stare at my reflection, feeling the weight of inevitability pressing down on me like an anchor dragging me into the depths.

Two weeks. Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty-six hours. Each second ticking away, bringing me closer to the life I never wanted, to a future I didn't choose. My fate was sealed, and there was nothing I could do to change it.
.
.
.

/Flashback/

"That was intense," she breathes out, her chest heaving.

"That was very regular, don't fucking lie," I state bluntly. That, was very normal sex.

"I would die for some intense sex with you then," she says seductively, her eyes glinting with a dangerous edge. But she doesn't know that I don't and won't give another fuck for that matter.

"Die, bitch!" I spit, my words laced with venom.

"So rude," she says, amusement dancing in her eyes. This kinky bitch.