"Smoking is bad, you know." The placid voice speaks up from the distant dark corner, nothing to see but a tall silhouette and an orange glow of a cigarette cherry. "It's the least of my problems," I murmur with my own between my lips, proceeding to feel the stagnant debris valley my throat when I suck delicately. He exhales a chuckle of cynical amusement, his footsteps getting every step clearer to my eardrums until I eventually sense body heat burning my back. "And why is that?" He whispers over my shoulder, hands inviting themselves to grip the railing in front of me so I become a prisoner between his inked arms. I swallow. "Because you'll be the one to kill me first." // Aven Brooks is hired to take pictures for the world-renown punk rock band known today as Duplicity; hoping the experience gets her into her most elite-dreamed university. However, when her lenses accidentally capture more than just cheeky sound checks and performances, she comes to a horrifying discovery that Duplicity is anything but a band. Appalled and frightened, she's trapped. *HIGHEST RANKINGS* #1 IN HARRYSTYLES #1 IN ONEDIRECTION ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO @happydays1d NOT ALLOWING TRANSLATIONS! CONTAINS VULGAR LANGUAGE / DRUG ABUSE / SEXUAL CONTENT / DESCRIPTIVE VIOLENCE / MENTAL HEALTH READ AT OWN RISK!

Book Song: Bad Blood by Sleeping At Last His eyes glowed. The emerald rimmed orbs dilating as he stares at me in the dark. The sense of intensity the eyes of the boy hold make me weak, losing all sense in knowing what to do. He moves closer, hands reaching out, encasing my own hand in his. He brings it to his lips and presses a cold kiss to the back. I stand frozen, unable to move, watching as the nameless boy presses his chest to mine, leaving no space between us. The coolness of his hand presses to the nape of my neck, my eyes closing as he keeps me close. The wind stings my body as I stand in the middle of the alley, the mysterious boy looking deep into my eyes after I open them once again. His eyes softly looking at me as he holds my hand tight, holding it at if he was afraid I would push him away as the other lay limp at my side. His thumb brushes over my jaw and my eyes look at the ground. His head moves to the side, feeling his breath on my ear. “You’re mine,” he whispers, breathing heavily into my ear. He lets me go and I watch as his dark figure walks away, leaving me speechless. I can’t move, his enticing personality making me want him, letting me stand here in my thoughts. The only thing I have is his eyes; I don’t even have a name.

"Darcy do you love me?" He asks while blood trickles down his lips. I hold my breath wanting to answer and say no. "We've been in a shit load of trouble. But I wouldn't wanna do it with anyone else." I said smiling and he smiled a bit to. "That doesn't answer the question Darcy." He said and I nod. "Yes, I do. I do love you harry." And once I said those words it was like a whole bunch of weight was off my shoulders.

.. He is Pure Evil. You are Pure Goodness. You two are complete opposites. Come on Lily. Use your Knowledge. You should have never fallen for a killer. ..

"A love like that was a serious illness, an illness from which you never entirely recover."- Charles Bukowski.

"Harry, are you okay? What are you doing in my room?" I asked Harry. I was confused though. Was he sleep walking? "Just to talk" he answered and sat down on the edge if my bed. "Ok what?" I ask kinda irritated that I'm losing sleep. "Has anyone ever touched you before?" he asks me with a serious tone. "Wha- what?" I stutter. "Harry I don't think we should be talking about this, your dating my sister" "Has anyone ever kissed you?" he just goes on. "No" I answer looking down. "Perfect" he answers coming closer to me with a smirk on his face.

If you live long enough in your past, thats where you'll stay.

Rose does not like Harry. And Harry does not like Rose. But perhaps the threat of a ruthless brain and a shady corporate conspiracy could change for them. or, at least, could make a stash of Snickers. He was like the moon-- a part of him was always hidden

Limerence; (n) the state of being infatuated with another person. #909 in dark #756 in styles

The London Institute Home of the young girls with anorexia, bulimia, anxiety, and schizophrenia. Also a pair of emerald green eyes that belong to a boy named Harold. AN// I am writing this book, not to make fun of mental disorders but to show how serious they are. Disclaimer// book is for mature audiences