Twisted

I woke up to find myself curled against Harry’s back, my legs pulled to my chest. Harry was rousing up, and I felt an instant lack of warmth as he got out of the bed. However, the spot where he laid was still warm. I only kept my eyes closed and snuggled into the blankets, trying to get back to sleep. I completely forgot that I had just slept in the same bed with Harry Styles. All I knew was that he was warm.
I could hear the faint noises of Harry getting dressed. I didn’t know what time it was, nor did I care. I just wanted to get back to sleep.
I was just drifting back asleep when Harry started shaking my shoulder. I opened my eyes and saw he was wearing his leather jacket again, and his hair was soaking wet from taking a shower. I could also smell a masculine scent coming from him; it was probably his body wash.
“Claire,” He said, his voice hoarse from just waking up, “I’ll be back. Don’t leave this room, got it?”
I stretched out my arms, letting out a small yawn. “Why not?”
He ignored my question and saw the object lying on the floor. I could already feel his steely gaze on me. “When did you take that out?”
“Last night.”
“When I get back, you better have it inside of you.” He snapped firmly. “Got that?”
I nodded in reply.
It was then a question struck me, just as Harry opened the bedroom door and was about to head out.
“Harry!”
“Fuck, don’t talk so loud.” He rubbed at his temple in irritation. It was clear to me that he was not a morning person. “What?”
“What do I do if I get hungry?”
He hesitated. “Then go downstairs and eat something. But if you even open my front door, an alarm will go off and every single door in this place will lock automatically. I will also be notified immediately, and I won’t hesitate to come back and—”
He must’ve realized I was only half listening to him because he stopped short. I felt him staring at me as I still lay in the bed, my legs sprawled out, and my arms hugging one of his pillows.
The last thing he told me was, “If something happens, call me. But it has to be an emergency.”
The door closed and I heard him walking away. As soon as his presence left the house, I fell back asleep.
When I woke up again, I found myself lying in the large, empty bed. I stretched, letting out a hue yawn, before slowly waking up.
Shit.
I was still here.
Suddenly alarmed, I sprung up in the bed, my eyes immediately searching the room. Light was streaming through the window curtains, but the lights above me were still off, so it wasn’t exactly bright. I didn’t hesitate to turn them on, encasing the room in a much better lighting. I could now see that Harry’s room was very plain—just like the rest of this house. He had his bed, a bare cupboard leaning against the wall, and a closed closet. I opened it up to see suits hanging inside with shoes on the floor in a somewhat cluttered pile.
My bladder told me I had to pee, so I walked into the lone hallway, hearing an eerie silence stretching throughout the house. My footsteps seemed so loud, and I could hear my breathing—it was that quiet. I wondered where the bathroom was.
I wandered to the next door over, relieved to see that it was a bathroom. I flicked on the light switch and my mouth fell open.
The tub looked like some kind of spa area. It was so large that it looked like a mini pool. There was an adjoining shower with a see-through glass wall surrounding it, and I could see that they were all bare—only three bottles of soap and shampoo that probably belonged to Harry. The sink itself was bare, but it had a large, wide mirror stretching along the wall. The toilet was in front of an open door. I stood there in awe, amazed by the sheer size of this restroom.
I used the restroom quickly, and walked back to look at my reflection. I glanced uncertainly at the huge tub, wondering if Harry would mind if I used it. Eventually I figured, why would he be mad? So I turned on the water, making sure it was nice and hot, and reached into the shower to get Harry’s soaps. I set them down on the outside of the tub and waited for the water to full the large tub.
I undressed when the water was halfway and stepped hesitantly into the tub. The water felt so good against my skin, and I let out a deep sigh as I sunk into it. This was certainly heaven. When the water was high enough, I turned it off, and just basked in the blissful water, closing my eyes. It felt like all my worries—the horror of last night—had disappeared. And it was then I realized that my ankle didn’t hurt anymore!
I used Harry’s shampoo, and continued to lie there. I even almost fell asleep, until I realized how much time must’ve passed. I plugged the drain and got out, looking in some drawers for a towel. Since I was the only one in this house, I figured it wouldn’t be strange walking around with a towel around my body. But still, I kept my eyes open as I hurried into the hallway, going right back to Harry’s room to find a spare change of clothes. I looked into his drawers to find some sweat pants, also finding a long-sleeved t-shirt. I then had to force myself to use one of his boxers, since I refused to go commando, and put them on. Of course, everything was loose on me, but it was much better than walking around naked, right?
When I was done, I went back to the bathroom to find a brush. I untangled my hair, and when I was done, I decided to find something to eat. Let’s hope I don’t get lost in this place.
I began making my way down the hallway, looking into each door I found. Most of the rooms were just plain empty. Some had one single bed with no blankets or anything. Pity. This had tons of wasted space. And come to think of it, it was so much easier to navigate in the light as opposed to the dark. Every light switch I found, I made sure to turn them on. I wanted this entire mansion to have its lights on, instead of off. I’ll bet some of these rooms haven’t seen the light in a few days—or years.
When I passed by the library, I paused, and peered inside. I saw that journal on the table, it’s back facing up, and I hesitated before going to pick it up again. I was on the same page as I was last night, and I knew I didn’t want to keep reading it. But as I flipped through, some kind of photograph fell out of a page. Quirking an eyebrow, I picked it up and saw a photograph of a woman standing next to a man. I guessed the woman was Ana, because she had an expectant, round belly, and the man standing next to her was probably Daryl. He wasn’t smiling at the camera, like Ana was. She had on a bright, lovely smile, and her arms sat on her round belly, almost protectively. Gosh. Even before Harry was born, she was still protective of him.
And Daryl had Harry’s eyes. Those dark, green conniving eyes. Harry also had Daryl’s intense gaze, such as how Daryl was staring at the camera. He had a limp arm hanging over Ana’s shoulder, but even I could see how he wasn’t totally in love with her, which struck me as sad. I could tell Ana was completely in love with him—the way her body leaned into his clearly showed her love for him. She did go against her parents and everything for him. And I also noticed that Harry had her smile—she had those dimples on both sides of her cheeks.
I stared at the old photo for a few moments, oddly very interested in it. I could see the tall, looming figure of the mansion towering behind them. But I couldn’t look away from Daryl’s eyes. He looked malevolent. And Ana was the total opposite. How did she ever meet him anyway? And what attracted her?
I put the photo back into the journal when I was done, my stomach growling. I carefully put the journal into the book shelf and, after turning off the light, I continued my search for the stairs. I passed by another hallway until I finally found them. Unlike last night, I didn’t fall down them. I took slow, careful steps down them, hearing the stairs creak underneath my weight. How old was this house anyway?
I found the kitchen almost instantly. Hell, even the kitchen was bigger than my entire apartment. I looked inside the fridge for something to eat, but then learned that Harry wasn’t a big eater, because all he had were some eggs, a carton of milk, and some butter. There was water in a lower bin, and I got one out to take a long sip. I found a huge pantry and looked through it. Okay, so he did have flour. But when I checked the date, it was two years old.
When was the last time he went grocery shopping?
Letting out a sigh, I began looking for any other things. I found some basic ingredients, but they all had dust over them, so who knew how old those were.
I felt a bit frustrated. What the hell did Harry eat? Nothing? My chest tightened as I went around to turn on every light switch I found, enclosing myself in sweet light. Already everything looked less daunting than before, even though it all looked kind of haunting. Plain, bare walls. And the image of the blood stain in that one room flickered in my mind, and I shivered from the memory.
Whatever happened to Ana? Did she leave Daryl? But if she did leave him, surely she would take Harry with her, right? So what happened to her? And why did Harry kill Daryl?
There were so many unanswered questions. But why should I be wondering them? It was none of my business. Harry wasn’t my business. I was here against my will!
I didn’t care if Harry had a “rough” past. He had no right to treat me like he’s been treating me.
Just as I had been thinking through all this, a loud, shrilly noise rang through the air. Suddenly, the silent mansion was alive with this piercing sound. I jumped from the unexpected sound, my entire body stiffening as I wondered what the hell was happening.
My eyes caught a movement, and I turned just in time to see a man standing there. He had a black eye pitch covering one eye, and he wore a bright, white leather jacket over his shirt. However, what really caught my eye was the gun pointed right at me.
Holy shit.
“Put your hands up,” He shouted over the sounding alarm. He sounded hysterical. When I couldn’t move, he shouted again, “I SAID TO PUT YOUR FUCKING HANDS UP!”
I threw my hands up, my eyes trained on that gun. I was waiting for him to just shoot me, to end my life. It would be so quick—so effortless. Just a simple pull of a trigger, and I’d be dead.
“Where is he?” The man asked as the alarm finally stopped.
“Who?” I choked out, my throat going completely dry.
“Don’t play dumb with me! Where is Styles?”
“I-I don’t know,” I stammered. “He left this morning. I have no idea where he went to.”
The man muttered, “Fuck.” He looked completely disappointed at that. Did he break into this place? And if so, how did he manage to do that? Didn’t Harry say he had all the doors locked? He looked back at me, his gun still aimed right at me, and a slow smirk crossed his features. “Well, aren’t you his new squeeze?”
I didn’t reply to that. I bit my tongue, and continued to stand there as still as a statue.
I had a feeling this guy worked for Vladimir.
Which made him a whole lot more dangerous.
“You’re all right.” The man said, his one seeable eye running down my body with no modesty. My cheeks flared at that, and I struggled to maintain my composure. His gun slowly loaded, and I began breathing normally again, as he took a few steps closer to me. “Though, I don’t see why he’s interested in you. You don’t exactly seem like his type. And you don’t look like a hooker, either.”
“Stop staring at me like that.” I said finally.
His eye slightly widened. “Are you American? You have an accent of one.” His smirk widened. “So that’s why you’ve caught his attention. You’re different.” He chuckled humorlessly at the realization before his smirk disappeared, his eyes roaming over me again. “I guess you’re fuck-able.”
“Stop looking at me like that!” I seethed.
He set his gun on the counter and licked at his lips. “Well, I guess beggers can’t be choosers, hm? Come here.” He began walking closer towards me and I quickly darted to the left, throwing open the nearest drawer to look for some kind of weapon. All I found was a metal spatula. The man was laughing at me, shaking his head.
I held up my choice of weapon threateningly. However, my hand was trembling that I knew I was close to dropping it any moment.
It was this moment when I wished Harry would come.
Now that was a first.
As if on cue, I heard the front door slamming, followed by someone’s footsteps. I grew nervous when I realized that the unknown person could be one of two things:
One, he could be Harry, which would be good.
And two, it could be someone else working for Vladimir.
The man in front of me heard the noise, and was instantly scrambling for the gun. However, I watched—in sweet relief—as Harry quickly grabbed the pistol off the counter. He had a very rugged appearance. His shirt was wrinkled, and his jeans had some cuts in them. Honestly, it looked like he had just walked out of a horror movie. He must’ve took his jacket off, because he was wearing a deep black shirt, almost as dark as his gaze.
“Who the fuck are you?” He asked the man in a deadly calm voice. He held the pistol in his hand like it was nothing, and he leaned against the counter.
“I work for Vladimir.” The man told Harry, trying to sound confident, but I could tell he was scared, now that Harry had his gun.
However, when Harry’s eyes saw my trembling figure, holding the spatula up for defense, his eyes darkened further, and without ado, shot the man right in the knee. The man fell to the floor, letting out a painful grunt. I flinched a little from the loud noise, and flinched again when Harry shot him again. I could hear skin breaking apart, and the strong smell of blood was heavy in the air. I had my eyes tightly closed, trying to imagine myself in another place, until I heard his voice right in front of me.
“Claire?”
I opened my eyes, filled with petrified tears, and my breath halted when his hands roamed quickly all over my body—literally. It didn’t seem like he wanted something sexual or anything. His hands were literally searching me.
When I had enough, I pried his hands away and said, “What are you doing?”
“Are you hurt?” He asked, his eyes glancing down over my body.
He was asking me if I was hurt?
Honestly, right now, Harry was in a different light in my eyes. He wasn’t the terrifying gang leader I had known him to be at first—he was a guy who had just saved my life. Even though he was the one who forced me here in the first place, I had never been so happy to see him before in my life.
Without even thinking, I lunged my body at him, throwing my arms tightly around his neck to hug him tightly. His entire body stiffened at my sudden movement, and I buried my head in his chest, trying to keep breathing like a normal human breathing.
However, before he could react, I pulled away. Feeling suddenly shy, I mumbled, “Who was that guy?”
“He’s a dead man.” Harry said, and it was then I could tell he was in slight pain. He stood leaning against the counter, and his face was grimy with dirt. What the hell had he been doing?
“Are you okay?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrow.
“I’m fine.” He mumbled, turning away from me. I could tell he was trying to act like his normal self—to hide his pain—but I could see it in the slight limp in his leg, or how his hands were stiff at his sides.
“You’re hurt.”
“No I’m not.”
“Harry, what happened?”
“I said it’s nothing.” He snapped in exasperation, looking over his shoulder to shoot me a look that said take-the-fucking-hint.
I went to follow him until I saw the dead man’s body. Blood was everywhere. Immediately my stomach twisted and I felt bile rising into my throat. I gagged dryly, hunching over, just from the mere sight of the man’s deformed skin from the gun shots.
I didn’t throw up, which was good. But I had to get out of the kitchen. I began following behind Harry, who seemed like he was struggling to even walk up the stairs. He had a firm grip on the railing, and he was moving unbearably slow. I wanted to help him up—since he helped me last night. However, I was simply waiting for him to get over his pride and ask me for my help.
“What’re we going to do with his…body?” I asked hesitantly, following behind Harry.
“I’ll clean it up.” Harry grunted. “Once I take a shower.”
“Did you get in a fight?”
He didn’t answer. He only continued struggling to get up the stairs. Still, he refused to tell me he was hurt. He refused to ask me for help.
“Harry—”
“—look, go make us something to eat.” He cut me off sharply, sounding more than tired. “Got it?”
Well, I guess that’s as close as I’ll get.
I went back down the stairs to venture off into the kitchen, looking for something to make. I then decided on making eggs—since that’s basically all I could make. I found some pans and set them on the stove, heating them up. I was humming lightly to myself, feeling suddenly so less lonely than I did earlier. I didn’t know how I forgot, but I did forget all about the dead man’s body. When I saw it again, my stomach churned, but I frowned. Harry was hurt. I guess I could try to get the body out of here.
I breathed in through my mouth only as I grabbed the man’s ankles, dragging him a little out of the kitchen. A trail of blood was left behind, and I tried my best to resist gagging at the morbid sight. I looked in the pantry for the largest garbage bags I could find. When I found the largest, I stuffed the man into it, tying it up. The bag was still seeping with blood, but it was the best I could do—for now. I immediately wiped up the drying blood with a wet paper towel, feeling a bit better with the smell growing dimmer.
Okay. Now it was bearable.
I immediately got back to making the eggs. I added some salt and garlic pepper, hoping they weren’t a few years old. When I was done, I waited a few moments for Harry. But he didn’t come. So, since I was famished, I set me up a plate, sat down at the large diner table, and ate in silence. I tried to ignore the body in the bag. I tried to ignore what had just happened a few minutes ago. Yes, I was still terrified when I thought about it. But the sick thing was that I could feel myself gradually getting accustomed to the terror.
Maybe that’s why I’ve never seen Harry scared. Was he used to it?
What the hell had I gotten into? I seriously needed to get out of here—as soon as possible.
It was then my inner musings were cut short, when I saw Harry walk down the stairs. He wore an obviously clean, crimson t-shirt over jeans, and his hair was wet again. He didn’t look like he was hurt anymore, and he saw what I had made and silently began making himself a plate. He didn’t even seem to notice the dead body, lying in a bag just a few feet from him.
He sat across from me and began eating. His eyes didn’t even look at me. I watched him quietly, seeing how hungry he was.
“When can I go home?” I asked suddenly, in a quiet whisper.
He set down his fork and looked straight at me. With a solemn expression, he stated, “When I say you can.”
“I have a job.” I told him. “I’ve already missed a few days of work.”
“So? I’ll call them and tell them you were with me.”
“Harry, you can’t keep me here forever.”
“I can do whatever I want.”
Frustration boiled in my stomach. “This place is scaring the hell out of me.”
He only quirked an eyebrow at that. “Really?”
“It’s so empty.” I whispered. “How can you stand it?”
He only shrugged and began eating again.
It was then I was tempted to just ask him about his mother. To see what happened. To ask why he killed his father. But I didn’t do it. I guess I got a bit too scared.
“When was the last time you went grocery shopping?”
“Grocery shopping?”
“Yeah. You know, when you go to the store to buy groceries.” I said dryly. Come on. Was he serious?
His features twisted at that. “I usually have Louis’s girlfriend get me stuff.”
“Well you have things that are way outdated.” I informed him. “I can’t even make anything.”
“I’ll tell Louis about it.”
“I’m telling you about it.”
“Look, I don’t have time to do stuff like that.” He told me matter-of-factly.
“What do you eat?”
He shrugged at that.
I let out a sigh. “Can I please go home now?”
“No.” He replied simply.
I thought for a moment. “Can I go to work?”
“No.” Harry’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Did you put it back in?”
Shit. I forgot. It actually never crossed my mind.
He saw the look on my face and his entire features narrowed. “I thought I told you to put it back in, Claire.”
“I forgot.” I mumbled. What did it matter?
“Do you understand the purpose of doing that? It’ll only benefit you. It’ll get you prepared for when I—”
“—no!” I snapped, standing from my chair. My face was bright red and my heart was hammering in my chest. Mortified, I exclaimed, “How can you talk about that so casually?”
Surprisingly, an amused smirk tugged at his lips. “You get so flustered just when talking about it.” He leaned a bit back into the chair, his eyes drifting over me.
“What?” I asked quietly.
“Hm.” His smirk widened as he noticed I was wearing his clothes. “I like you wearing my clothes.”
I said nothing to that. I just stood there, trying to look anywhere but his gaze.
Then he added huskily, “But I’d prefer you without them.”
“Harry, please.” I said cautiously, hoping he would stop this.
“How far have you gone with anybody?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Oh, like I’ve said before,” he stood out of his chair, walking around it. “It is my business.” I backed away from him, feeling his eyes staring down at me.
“What are you doing?”
“How about this,” He suddenly grabbed me, pulling me against him as his lips grazed my ear, “you show me how far you’ve gone, and we’ll take it from there.”

Notes

Oohhh! Gosh, I am pure evil with cliffhangers. Sorry guys! But thank you all so very much for all the views!

Don't forget to VOTE, COMMENT, RATE AND SUBSCRIBE ;')