Dry Wasteland.

Ch. 2

His heap of curls on his head bounced as he paced across the room a few times, his finger covering his pink, plump lips as he was deep in thought.

I wasn't going to scream, I wouldn't. He may be crazy, but I just need to stay calm if I wanted him to trust me.

It felt weird when he kissed me, like it was something I had bottled up for awhile. The same feeling from three years ago, all pushed into one long, sweet kiss.
I had to admit, for him being mentally unstable, he was a pretty good kisser. Like, I had almost missed his lip touching mine.

"I'm going to untie you, okay?" His large hands undid the ropes on my wrists, going down to my ankles. My breathing was shaky, considering the fact I was in a room with a murderer.
He stood back, looking at me intently, as he waited for what I was going to do.

I stood up hesitantly, my body shaking slightly.
"Are you okay? You don't look fine." H put his hand out to help me.
"No. I'm actually not fine." I pushed his hand away.
"Why are you doing this? We broke up Harry!" I walked to the broken glass on my floor, picking it up slowly to not get hurt.
His fists slammed on my desk, grunting in anger.
"You're mine!" He yelled, hitting the desk again. Every time he hit the desk, he would say, 'mine' in anger. I ran over before he broke the desk, grabbing his fists. "Harry!" He stopped, looking at me with a crazed look in his eye.
"Mine." He grabbed me and held me, making me speechless. I wrapped my arms around him to calm him down. His breathing slowed, coming back down to a normal pace. I looked up at him, his grip loosening.
"I don't to lose you again, I escaped for you." He cupped my face, making me blush. I grabbed his hands, pulling them away.
I felt something in the pit of my stomach. It wasn't fear, but maybe, maybe, a hint of happiness. All these years I haven't seen him, all these feelings un-exchanged, and all the warmth I had missed from him. He was the love of my life, I loved him to the core. No one ever replaced him, no matter how hard I've tried to replace him, it never worked. He was always there. To protect me, to save me, to comfort me. He was the only one.
"Are you okay now?" His voice asked, rubbing my arms as it soothed me. My head, nodded slightly as I didn't have much words to say. He pulled me in again, picking me up so he could hug me normally, since I was a foot shorter then him. I squeezed him, just wanting to stay like this. I had missed him, yes, I admit it. He may have killed three people and threatened to kill one of my best friends, but, I missed him.

After awhile, he had calmed down a lot, acting completely normal. No signs of master killing detected. He was nicer than I remember, of course.
"I'm tired. Let's go to bed." He pulled me to my room, giving me no word. He took of his orange onesy, only to be in his boxers. I blushed, looking at all the tattoos he had across his body, making my cheeks burn.
I watched him, making himself comfy in my king sized bed. His hands folded behind his head, watching me. I was only in a loose shirt and a pair of boyshorts. I got into bed, laying away from you, only to be pulled into your arms. I was being held in a tight hold, making sure I wouldn't leave.
"Goodnight darling.." His raspy voice whispered, kissing my temple before closing his eyes.

What was this? That feeling in the pit in my stomach became more than just a hint of happiness, it became more of a loving feeling. I shook my head, laying comfortably in his arms, my stomach feeling fluttery. Am I fine?

No. I'm actually not fine.