delaneyyfrank
"Give it to me!" the larger man said, his stale breathe tickling the back of my neck. Struggling on the chair, my wrists rubbed against the right ropes. A tear streamed down my cheek, smudging the dirt covering my face. "I said, give it to me!" The man wore dark, blood stained clothes, and a face mask was pulled down below his chin. As he yelled, he exposed yellow, crooked teeth. Suddenly he pulled out a pocket knife and held it to my neck. Wincing, I whispered "I-I don't have it." The man pushed the knife closer to my skin. "I'll give you one more chance. Ten," I tasted salt as tears flooded my eyes. "Nine, eight, seven," I shut my eyes, willing myself to stay quiet. "Six, five," All of a sudden, the door swung open, exposing a tall boy, maybe 20, with dark, curly hair.
"Stop!" He exclaimed, holding up a gun. "Let her go!"
"And you are?" The man asked, still pressing the knife to my skin.
"Drop the knife!" Once again he yelled,
"Who are you?"
"My name is Harry, Harry Styles."