The Missing Pulse (on hold)

The Missing Pulse (on hold)

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing1h 16m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sun, Jan 3, 2016
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Fiction
Paranormal
I walked down quickly towards the bathroom when someone unexpectedly grabbed me by the waist and covered my mouth, pulling me into the Janitor's Room. I screamed, and kicked but that was no use. The room was completely dark, my eyes have yet to adjust. I tried running from the strangers grip but he simply tightened his grip around my waist. I began to panic when I noticed the door was locked. Shit, shit. My breathing began to quicken as I realized what's going to happen. "Shh." A deep husky voice spoke. "Don't panic babe." "H-Harry?" My voice quivered a bit as I spoke. "You recognized my voiced, how sweet" He chuckled. "W-what do you w-want." I stuttered. He laughed; it was a deep laugh. "What I want?" "Yeah, what do you want?" I managed to keep myself from stuttering. "You." His voice was deep and raspy this time. "Wha-" I was cut off by a pair of lips crashing onto mine. My eyes went wide, I placed my small hands on his chest and pushed with all the force I could to get him off of me. He wouldn't budge. He tried slipping his tongue in my mouth but I squeezed my lips shut. He groaned and bit my bottom lip, causing my yelp. He took that opportunity to stick is tongue in, he had a sweet taste. Wait, what no! Why am I thinking this? With no last thought, I bit his lower lip with all the strength that I could; he simply flinched and grinned. "Feisty as always." He whispered seductively. "But I would rather taste your blood not mine." I could taste a bit of fresh blood, clearly his, but why would he want to taste mine?! He licked my bottom lip before pulling away, I slapped him and quickly looked for the doorknob, unlocking it and running out of the Janitor's Room, and ran down the hall. I stopped for a minute and looked back. There he was, the one and only Harry Styles standing in the door way of the room, smirking. I stared at him, confused and frightened. He cleaned off some of the blood from his lip, blew me a kiss and walked away.
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W.G I walked toward the girls' bathroom, trying to ignore the weight of my bag and the ache in my shoulders. That's when I saw him. Him. He wasn't smiling. Not that it would've mattered. He leaned against the wall, effortless and impossible to ignore. Another girl was in front of him, talking too much, laughing too loud, desperate for his attention. He nodded at her words, listening without a hint of amusement-cold, calculated. Then his eyes landed on me. Green, sharp, dangerous. He smirked. Just a little, but enough. Enough to make the blood in my veins run colder. The kind of smirk that promised he saw everything-everything I was thinking, everything I was hiding. I stiffened. Fingers tightening around my bag strap. I didn't want to look at him, didn't want to acknowledge him. But he had already claimed the moment, made his presence known, and the corner of his mouth that lifted into that smirk said one thing clearly: he knew. And he was enjoying it.

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