They met at the wrong time under the wrong circumstances, in a world that was not theirs. They had no choice but to move on from each other.
Five years later, Griffin Walker and Harry Styles meet again. How will it end this time?
LOVE BUILT ON LIE...
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GRIFFIN E. WALKER May, 2020
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Everything was going according to plan.
Then it wasn't.
Blaming myself for every action taken that got me to where I was, my situation could've been worse.
I could've already been shot. I was not. Sure, the blows to my stomach felt deathly, the taser pressed into my skin sent shocks through my entire system like I've never felt before, but I was alive. Breathing. I had a chance at survival.
Plus, this man was not going to do me a favour and end my life. He knew, that in the end, it would put him to the same fate. Battling it out in hell would've been unfair to him.
I would've won down there.
Tied securely to a chair, my head rolled from shoulder to shoulder as a fist collided with my cheek. The area bruising, my lip busted and bled for a while. Eventually, the crimson liquid dried but the next blow ripped the scar open. Groaning as my head fell back, eyes closed, my throat stuck out. A mixture of sweat and blood trickled down my face, my breathing heavy.
A low chuckle emitted from the man before me, my eyes slowly opening as he shook his head. He inspected his knuckles as my head moved up properly, a smirk tugging on my lips at the thought of still being alive. It seemed my pain tolerance was much higher than I ever thought. Granted, the way it was brought to my attention didn't feel nice, at least I knew how far I could be pushed.
"Such a pretty face," he muttered, his fingers squeezing my jaw tightly. Finding it impossible to turn my head, he eventually let go, his hand pushing my face away. The dull pain his firm hand left behind was nothing compared to what he did next.
My body fell backwards into the nothingness. Unable to move, my heart stopped. The chair tilted under me until it came to a halt stop. A chain, attached to the high ceiling, kept me hanging over an empty pit on the two back legs of the chair. The loud squeal leaving my lungs echoed in the empty warehouse.
The rhythm of my unbalanced breathing filled the air around me, swallowing as the swaying of the chain moved the chair every now and then. As I leaned my head slightly back, the weight pushed me closer to my falling, making me jolt up and tense my stomach. Intense pain shot through me as I had done that, eyebrows furrowing as the memory of his shoe came in contact with my abdomen.
"You know," his voice came from next to me, suddenly. Leaning on his knees, his back was bent, close to me. "I don't enjoy this any more than you."
"Hard to believe," I pressed the words through my teeth. Feeling the sweat build on my palm from the thought of being so high up, my fingers curled into fists.
"But I would be lying if I said it'd hurt me to see you fall five stories down," he continued speaking as though he tried to make a point. "I do wonder how you ended up on the boss' bad side, then again I'm glad to be working."
