Hide and Seek

Chapter 12

HARRY'S POV

I remember the night they took me away.

"Sit down. Shut up and don't breathe unless I tell you to." The man dressed in white but whose

loyalties lie with Satan, barked the order at me like I was a savage.

I crouched in the uncomfortable and cramped seat loosely bolted at the back of the van. I was

cold from the steel that was in direct contact with my skin, a layer of sensitive flesh that had just

recently exposed to the harsh temperatures outside. My back was bent and my feet were bare on

the scratched floor.

The door slammed shut and was locked from without, I remember there being no windows for me

to admire the last scenery I'd ever lay eyes on. I didn't bother though. Louis' face was fresh in my

mind at that time, the way he looked at me when they wouldn't let him say goodbye. I'd get my

revenge on them one fine day.

"You okay back there, Styles?" The driver who wasn't Hell's slave asked from the front with a

smile.

When I didn't reply he fell silent and keyed in the ignition before the van hummed to life.

"Wave goodbye, Styles." One of them muttered. "It's the last time you'll see each other."

Louis. My head instantly shot up but it was too late because we'd already entered traffic, Louis

was behind us. I covered my ears with my fingers splayed out in my hair. I gripped it tightly in an

effort to loosen the tension and agitation I felt.

I didn't want to be taken away. I'd stop hurting people if they had let me stay.

Everyday I'd relive the memory of that night. The worst night of my existence. Now, I flip the pen

in my hand in an elliptical motion.

Dear Louis

I'll begin by expressing my deep sadness at your lack of response to my letters. I've been

writing to you for a week now from this dungeon, why won't you write back?

I want to see you, but I know that, however unlikely, if you pay me a visit I won't have a

thing to say. It's lonely here. At night I can hear the guards walking up and down the halls

with their noisy keys. It's really quite a bother. It's very dark, no different from walking

around blind. I wish you'd write back, maybe then I won't feel so uneasy.

I know you think about what happened that night, one week ago in your room. So do I. I sit

here, caged and hidden behind prison fences, while I worry relentlessly about you out there.

I wish you'd write back, so that I will know you're safe.

The authorities won't let me out. They say I have a choice between here and prison for the

rest of my life. But I'm not staying. How can I? Worrying about you is driving me insane. If

you don't write back I'll come find you. I promise.

Yours,

Harry