Twisted

"What about the police?" I asked, slightly alarmed. I was starting to feel light-headed. Was this some kind of dream? "Can't we tell them about—"

Francine only laughed, shaking her head. I stopped talking upon hearing her.

"The police can't do anything." Francine said matter-of-factly. "The police are terrified of them, Claire. They won't intervene with any of their business."

"Why not?" I sat up a little, hearing the wind blow against Francine's walls from outside. "They're the police—it's their soul duty to protect us from people like them." At least, that's how it was in America. I remembered going to the big cities where gangs were notorious, but the police always fought against them for the civilian's sake. What makes this gang so different? And how could the police be afraid of them?

"They're not people." Francine mumbled darkly.

"They have a beating heart." I insisted. "They are people."

She shot me a look. "Are you defending them?"

"What I'm saying is that they can't just 'rule' this place! That's impossible."

"You don't understand." Francine's voice was quiet. "You just don't understand. I don't know what it is, but…there's something that doesn't make them normal."

I stared at her. "Fran? Have you ever….have they ever hurt you?"

Francine looked down at her lap sadly. "No, they've never hurt me. I've never even spoken to them. But I've seen the things they have done." I noticed that she was slightly crying. Smiling feebly, she wiped at her tears. "They pull people off the street, Claire, in broad daylight. They just come from the alleys and drag them back, either to kill them or…worse."

I gasped at that, covering my mouth with my hand. No…that kind of stuff just doesn't happen…right?

"Don't people hear them?" I asked quietly.

Francine shook her head slowly. "Nobody helps. They just look away. They're too scared to get involved with them."

I had tears in my eyes. Mumbling, I shrank back in the sofa, too overwhelmed to sit up properly. "No…this isn't real…this can't be real. People don't just do things like that. People don't watch people be dragged off the street without doing anything. It's not right."

"We all know it's not right." Francine said brokenly. "But they'll kill us."

I squeezed my eyes shut, remembering Harry's voice in the darkness. "I was with him. He could've killed me. It would've been so easy, since it was so dark."

"I can't believe you went into an alley."

"I was just trying to escape the rain." My body had started to tremble violently. "I was inches away from him, Fran. H-he could've killed me."

"But for some reason he didn't." Francine said gravely. "He's taken an interest in you, I'm afraid." She glanced to her room. "His jacket is here."

"So?"

"That's a sign. He's coming for you." Francine stood up abruptly, striding into her room. She came back with the jacket, and she held it away from her, as if it was poisoned or had a foul smell.

"Fran," I breathed, feeling like I was about to have a panic attack, "stop…please. You're scaring me. This is just too much."

"You can stay the night here." Francine said, throwing the jacket on the floor. "In the morning we'll figure something out."

I felt like a sudden wave of exhaustion had taken over me. I closed my eyes, but I could still hear his voice in my head. I still saw the brief glimpse of him when the lightning had illuminated everything for a passing moment.

"Why?" I whispered finally, going through every word we exchanged. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. "Why me? What did I do?"

"Here, get some sleep." Fran tossed me a thick, warm blanket. I lay on my back, clutching the blanket tightly. "I'm going to get dressed, okay? I'll be right back."

She left the room, leaving me alone. I stared up at the ceiling, my heart gradually slowing down in my chest. This had to be some kind of nightmare. A gang cannot own a town—it just can't.

I was so in deep thought that I didn't hear Francine return until she switched off the light. I flinched, remembering the dark alleyway. I remembered how close his voice seemed to me. I felt his breath run down my neck.

"Claire?" Fran spoke across from me, calming my nerves. It was her. "It's just me, okay? Let's try to get some sleep. We'll think more clearly in the morning."

I closed my eyes, the blanket around me proving comfortable warmth. The darkness seemed to close around me until I finally fell into a dreamless sleep.




"Claire," I woke up to see Francine standing over me. She wore a white turtleneck sweater and beige pants. "Come on, it's time to wake up." She smiled down at me, but I knew it was strained.

I sat up, feeling terrible. The actions the night before weren't erased from my mind—far from it.

"Is everything okay?" I asked her groggily, trying to tame my hair with my hands.

Francine shrugged. "Nothing has happened." However both of our eyes glanced in unison at the jacket that lay on the floor. The sight filled me with dread.

"What can I do?" I asked quietly. I looked at Francine, full of guilt. "I'm putting you in danger."

"It's not your fault." Francine told me firmly. She looked so different than the girl last night who was crying. "I'm tired of standing by and watching this happen to people. It's wrong. I won't let him get you, okay?"

"I'm not worried about myself. I'm worried about you!"

"How could you not be worried about yourself? Don't be foolish, Claire."

I sighed. "Okay, yes I'm worried about myself. But I don't want to add guilt to everything."

Francine turned on me suddenly. "Claire, I'm the guilty one. I've lived here practically all my life, and I have never done anything righteous. You have done nothing wrong here. Nothing at all. So don't you even think about feeling guilty."

"It's just…this is so messed up." I buried my head in my hands, trying to take deep breaths to calm me down. "I've never been involved with a gang before."

"I don't want to scare you, but I have to tell you this to keep you safe." Francine said, catching my attention. She sat in front of me and stared at her hands, hesitating. Finally, she asked, "I'm sure there were gangs in America. Tell me what they were like."

I thought for a moment, then said, "They fought normally over drugs or sometimes money. There were a few gang fights, and they had it on the news, and a few civilians may get killed because of it. But the police was always there to help—even if their lives were taken."

"So the gangs were just interested in money and drugs?"

"Pretty much. Why?"

Francine looked absolutely miserable. She tucked her blonde hair behind her ears. "Well this gang is different. They don't do what they do for money or drugs. They do it partially for power. They like having power over people, Claire. Especially women." My throat went dry at that. "They are the alpha of this town. They have sources everywhere. Some of the police are even involved with them."

My eyes widened. "They can do that?"

"I told you, the police are terrified of them." Francine crossed her arms over her chest. "Let me tell you about each one of them."

"How many are there?"

"Five. But they have other small gangs who slave at their feet." Fran muttered bitterly. "Now that I can hear myself saying this, it sounds so terrible."

I stared at her, feeling her guilt. But it wasn't exactly her fault. It wasn't like she—as one person—could do anything to change all of this. It would take more than one person, right?

She opened her mouth to speak but a timer went off. She shrugged it off. "It's just the oven. Okay, listen. Niall is part of the gang. He typically does the dirty work for them, but he's the lowest of all of them. However, since he's part of them, it doesn't even matter that he's the lowest. Next is Liam. Then Louis, Zayn, and Harry. Louis is typically the most feared only because—"

Her voice broke off when we heard loud laughter coming from outside. We both froze and stared at one another in fear.

Was it them?

"If anything happens, hide." Francine told me, looking around the room. "Uh, we could hide in the closet."

"Do you have anything to use as a weapon?" I asked without thinking. How would I be able to defend us against them? Well, I guess we had to try.

Normally, in America, I'd be dialing 911. But now I knew that was pointless. We were vulnerable, helpless in this situation. It was so messed up! It was the polar opposite of what I grew up with.

"I think we're fine." Francine said finally, though her face betrayed her words. She looked terrified.

"Go to your room," I told her solemnly.

"Claire—"

"—please. He wants me, right?" I reminded her weakly. "Why should I drag you into this?"

"Because I'm your friend." Francine replied quickly, stepping closer to me. It was so strange. I only knew her for a few weeks at that, yet it felt like I had always known her. "I won't leave you with them, Claire. I won't."

"Thanks." I replied in a single breath. Just as we smiled at each other, Fran's window shattered as something came through it.

Glass splattered all over her wooden floor. Francine let out a shriek, and I couldn't even scream as we flinched away just in time. I saw the brown object roll across the floor, with something white attached to it.

I was expecting someone to come jumping through the window, but nothing came. It was just the brown object.

Francine moved first. She walked carefully across the glass, picked up the object, and read the note. When she read it, her eyes met mine. And the look in her eye made me want to faint.

Wordlessly, she held it out for me to take. I took it, and looked it over. But what I read made my entire world turn completely upside down:

Try to hide from me. I dare you. Try to run. I'll catch you. Meet me where we met last night, around dusk. Do not ignore.

And underneath the messy handwriting was a signature that said Harry Styles.

Notes

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