Twisted

“So you held a gun?” Eleanor repeated, her eyes comically wide. Her hands stayed flat on her knees and her frail body leaned forward, her long, cascading brown hair falling past her delicate shoulder blade. She wore a loose-fitting sun dress, and she even added a white flower in the corner of her hair. To sum it up, the girl looked utterly adorable.
I nodded, feeling an ounce of pride as I was almost finished telling her everything that had happened. It had been 2 days since that night with Harry. For those 2 days, I have surprisingly tended to Harry—making sure he took his pills and stayed in bed. He actually gave up trying to walk after that one time, when it hurt him to. He was generally grumpy when he first woke up, but as soon as he took the pills, he would act strange. We would talk—yes talk—swapping stories here and there. I originally thought he would reveal all kinds of background information about him, but I found out that I was actually the one doing most of the talking.
Harry would lay there, listening to each word that I said. He would nod his head in the appropriate places to show me that he really was listening. It was so strange, seeing him like this. I knew it was only the effects of the drugs, but honestly, I dare say I preferred this Harry to the cold, distant one that I had first met.
“I bought this fish,” I told him one day, and his hands were wrapped tightly around my form to hold me to him. Whenever the drugs had their way with him, he always had a hand on me, whether it was just on my shoulder or arm. “I think it was called a guppy. The woman selling the fish told me the fish was harmless—she promised me this fish was different. I think I remember guppies being the kind of fish that eat other fish if they were in the same tank. Anyway, I had bought this angel fish a while ago, so I was cautious about buying this seemingly harmless one simply because of the reputation they had. However, in the end, I came home with the fish and put him in the tank. One the first day, when I looked at the tank, my angel fish was missing an eye.”
“An eye?” Harry repeated slowly, his eyebrows raising.
I nodded, my smile vanishing from the thought. “And when I came back the next day, the angel fish’s other eye was missing.”
“So he was missing both of his eyes?”
“Yes. When I looked at them on the 3rd day, my angel fish was only bones. I was so angry at the time that I took the guppy fish out with the net, took it outside, and stabbed it with a twig over and over. Then I buried it in some rocks or something.” Harry laughed at this, and I couldn’t even help laughing with him. I could still remember carrying the fish outside. I was so angry at what the fish had done to my angel fish. I suppose I was also angry that the woman had lied to me about the fish being harmless. I always believed, just a childish belief, that after I buried the fish, my house was haunted—that the angry spirit of the fish still lingered, swearing to have his vengeance on me for killing him.
This was the only time I had done anything remotely bizarre—in the crazy sense. I was typically a quiet kid, reserved for trying my best to make the best possible grades in everything. Even though I longed to go out and play most of the time, my parents would insist on me improving anything I needed improvement on academically. At first, it was my “terrible” handwriting, and then it was how I couldn’t quite pronounce my “r’s,” it was always one thing after another.
I would talk for minutes, non-stop. I wouldn’t even have to worry about boring him simply because he listened to every single thing I said. I couldn’t help but feel relaxed. Most of the time he wouldn’t let me move, but as soon as his eyes closed and his breathing grew labored, I was able to untangle out of his arms.
This was so different than what I was used to. The big, bad Harry Styles was actually…being human.
Louis came by every day to check up on Harry. He said Harry was healing perfectly, and he should be fine in a week or so. He still told me to give Harry the pills though. He would also check the house—for what I don’t know—and today he surprised me by bringing Eleanor for a visit.
It was indeed a lovely surprise. I haven’t had much social interactions since being cooped up here in this place.
“I held the gun.” I told Eleanor. “And I told them to leave. They did—they ran.”
“Wow.” She breathed, shocked. “That’s so…brave.” She giggled a little. “I would never be able to do that.”
“I didn’t really think about it.” I admitted. “I just…did it, you know?”
“Well, I guess if that was Louis, I would do it.” Eleanor mused out loud.
“Damn right you would.” Louis spoke up suddenly appearing in the room. He paused by Eleanor to press a fond kiss on her forehead. My heart swelled just from the way he looked at her—like she was a delicate doll, able to break from the slightest wrong move. I wondered if Louis treated Eleanor the same way Harry treated me…
“Girls, I’m going to check up on Harry.” Louis said, holding a sandwich. He began heading towards the stairs, and we both waited to speak until he was gone.
“He really does like you.” I said. “Doesn’t he?”
Eleanor’s cheeks blushed and she nodded bashfully. “I know he does.”
I love how sure she sounded.
“At first, I felt like I was some kind of object.” She told me. “Because he was so possessive. That was why I broke up with him in high school. I felt like I was just a possession, you know? But…when I came here again, everything changed.”
“How?”
“A man had tried to mug me.” Eleanor whisked a small smile. “It was the typical crime. He wanted my purse, and I suppose I was the typical damsel in distress. But then Louis came, and he recognized me instantly. He saved me. He was already in the gang, so he didn’t even have to fight with the man to get him to run. Of course, at the time, I didn’t know he was part of a gang. We went out for tea that evening, and it was then I realized how great of a guy he was. I got the vibe that he truly did care for me. So when I heard that he was part of a gang, I didn’t really care. I knew who he truly was.” She then added with a shy smile, “There was just something strikingly romantic about being saved though, you know?”
We sat there in a comfortable silence for a few moments. Eleanor picked up her small cup of tea and took a sip. As I sat there, I remembered my best friend.
“Hey, um, do you know Kim?” I asked hesitantly.
Eleanor split into a huge smile. “I absolutely love her!”
Confused, I asked, “You met her?”
“Of course. It’s been a bit confusing though. Zayn wanted her at first, but I think he just wanted her so Niall couldn’t; there has always been some kind of unspoken friction between the two.” I frowned just from hearing the member’s name. “And Zayn always likes to remind people of the power he has. Anyway, so Zayn decided to get some other girl—I don’t know why—and right now Kim is with Niall.”
I knew Niall wasn’t perfect—far from it—but I felt a little more comfortable with Kim being with him rather than Zayn. Ugh. Just his name made me freeze up.
“Zayn,” I said through gritted teeth, not hiding my anger and disgust, “is sick.”
Eleanor only smiled sweetly at me. “That’s the exact same thing I said when I first met him.”
I quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t think he’s sick?”
“He does that when he first meets someone.” Eleanor explained. “He puts on the big ‘bad boy’ image. Worse than Harry does. Of course Zayn is incredibly strong—and he has hurt people. But he’s not as bad as he acts, if that makes any sense.”
“He drugged my friend so she was barely able to move.” I stated. “That seems sick to me.”
She sighed. “I’m just saying that deep down, Zayn is a softie.”
“How do you know this?”
Her eyes locked with mine and she replied, “You’ll just have to wait and see.”
Well that didn’t answer my question at all.
“Zayn joined the gang shortly before Niall; Niall is the newest member.” Eleanor explained. “When we found Zayn, he was living off the streets. He wasn’t a homeless man—he lived with some woman, I think she was his girlfriend at the time. But he was heavily influenced with drugs.”
“So he was a druggie?” I clarified.
“Yes. Originally he came from a very wealthy family, but they were only rich because of their association with drugs. Naturally, Zayn got involved with it, too. And soon enough, he was out in the world, spending all of his money—every cent he had—purchasing drugs. He couldn’t get enough of them.” Eleanor shivered a little, looking disturbed. Her face had gotten much paler and she hugged herself. “You should’ve seen him, Claire. He was….” She trailed off, trying to look for the right word. “Honestly, it was like seeing a starving dog out on the street. When I first saw him, I felt like I was looking at a zombie. He had such darkness around his eyes, and his body wouldn’t stop shaking. He would constantly be mumbling to himself, claiming he needed some kind of release.”
“Why did Harry let him join?” I asked curiously. I always thought Harry wouldn’t let just anyone in.
“Harry said he had potential. Harry can see things not many people can.” Eleanor shrugged a little, rubbing at her arms to ease away the feeling of unease. “So, for months, the boys—Liam especially—helped Zayn out. And after a few months, Zayn grew stronger and stronger. And now, well, you can see how he turned out.” Eleanor suddenly looked embarrassed, and she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Quietly, she mumbled, “I apologize for talking so much. It’s just…you’re really easy to talk to, Claire. And it’s very nice, refreshing almost.”
“Don’t apologize.” I said quickly, smiling at her. “I agree with you, it really is refreshing talking to you.”
“…yeah, don’t worry, I’m on my way.” Louis was talking rapidly as he half jogged down the stairs on his phone. He shoved his cellular device in the pocket of his jeans before his blue eyes fell on Eleanor. “Babe, we have to leave.”
Eleanor didn’t question him, nor did she argue. She silently offered me a warm hug, giving me a friendly smile that I found myself returning. In just a few moments, I was alone. Again.
“Mom, Dad, I want to see the world. I don’t want to be cooped up in a college room while I could be halfway across the world!”
“You can always do that once you get a fine education.” My dad insisted calmly. “Once you get a steady job with a great income, you can save up vacation days.”
I glanced at my mom for help, but she was clearly on my dad’s side. Her auburn hair was brought back in an immaculate French braid, and her bright green eyes were piercing as she stared unwavering at me. She was also clearly disappointed in my argument. She wasn’t even listening to what I had to say—she was just wondering what happened to her daughter.
“But how long would that take?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. “Years. It’ll take years just to get through college, and we’re not even talking about finding a job.”
“You don’t have your own house.” My dad’s voice was starting to rise. My mom put her hand on his shoulder and he visibly relaxed a little. “You don’t have anything, Claire. You’re under our roof right now—and as your parents we know what’s best for you. If you want to not have to worry about money, you have to get an education. If you don’t, you could end up like the construction workers that pave our roads. Do they look happy to you?”
I let out a frustrated groan, knowing my parents were partially right. But did I really want a complicated, fixed life like they were describing?
What was wrong with a simple life?
“If you were smart,” My mom commented, “you would go into the medical field. With your brain, you could easily become a doctor of some sort. Do you have any idea of a doctor’s salary?”
“I don’t want to become a doctor.” I said quickly.
“She could be a lawyer.” My dad told my mom.
“I don’t want to become a lawyer either.” I cut in.
“Then what do you want to be?” My mom and dad both asked at the same time.
And under their powerful gaze, with two pairs of eyes staring at me, waiting for my response, I felt my confidence shriveling up, just like it always has. I began to feel smaller and smaller in their eyes. My ideas of what I had once thought seemed suddenly so wrong when they looked at me like that.
But then I remembered the picture I had seen—of the London eye. Or the picture in front of the book with the Egyptian pyramids. And there was no way I could forget the beautiful beaches of Greece.
I wanted to see the world. That’s what I wanted to do. I wanted to see everything I could, and when I felt like it was perfect, I wanted to settle down.
“I…don’t know.” I finally said, my voice shaking. I brought my eyes from my parents, not wanting to see their gazes any longer.


“I don’t want any more of those pills.”
I paused in pouring out a pill, glancing uncertainly at Harry. He was sitting up on the bed, wearing no shirt with dark sweatpants, and his eyes were watching me closely. The bruises on his face weren’t as bad looking as before, and some of the bruises over his torso have looked almost transparent. Right now, he just looked a little banged up—nothing too serious.
“But Louis—”
“—those pills knock me out.” Harry cut me off sharply, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. I could tell he was getting ready to stand up by the way his shoulder blades tensed up. I paused a moment, seeing how the muscles on his back rippled whenever he moved his arms.
Damn.
When I realized I was openly staring, I quickly tore my gaze away and clasped the lid back on the bottle. There was no arguing with Harry right now.
Harry made no sign of pain whatsoever as he slowly stood up. His back was stiff, though, as he stood there for a few moments. And then he visibly relaxed and began shuffling to the door, walking as if he had never even been hurt before.
I just stared at him in awe. How did he do that? If that was me, I’d be in bed for weeks.
“Come on.” Harry said as he slipped out of the door. I hurried outside, staying behind Harry, watching for any signs of him falling.
But there was none.
“What have you been doing?” Harry asked over his shoulder.
“Just…hanging around here.” I replied quietly.
I had barely taken one step when I was suddenly pressed into the wall. Harry’s knee probed painfully into my gut, and his entire body was pressed fully against me. He was so close that I could feel his breathing fanning over my face, and his bare torso was warm and firm against me. Immediately my heart beat skipped a few beats from Harry’s sudden movement. He pressed his hands against either side of my head. His eyes were dark, no sign of amusement present whatsoever.
“You haven’t tried to run off again?” He asked huskily, his eyes waiting for my response.
My lips quivered, and it took me a few moments to reply. “N-no.”
“Are you lying to me?”
“Why would I—”
“—are you lying to me?” Harry cut me off, pressing himself even more against me. By now my cheeks were probably bright red, and fear had overtaken my senses.
What the hell did I do?
“I never tried to run away.” I told him again, slower this time. I wanted to convince him, but it seemed like he almost truly believed I did try.
He stared at me for a few moments before he suddenly pulled away and grumbled, “Good.” He was ambling down the hallway again, and I struggled to catch up from him.
I didn’t speak. Honestly, I wasn’t quite used to Harry like that. I guess I was getting accustomed to the Harry that would always tell me to talk and just listen; I had forgotten how truly intimidating he could be.
“How long?” Harry asked as we began walking down the steps.
It took me a moment for me to realize what he said. “About four days.”
“Four days?” He repeated, sounding frustrated. He mumbled, “Fuck.” He ran a hand through his curly-frizzy hair in an agitated way.
We made our way into the kitchen and Harry made a beeline for the fridge. I chose to sit next to the counter, pulling out my phone to aimlessly look through texts. I had instinctively looked for a text or call from Kim, but there was nothing. Guilt filled me once again as I sat there, knowing I was the reason why she got involved with this mess. I wondered if her parents were worried. Kim never had strict parents, but her family was very close.
Her mom had taken Kim out on Kim’s 16th birthday to get a tattoo. Kim’s mom had a few tattoos, so she didn’t have anything against them. And Kim had always been thrilled with body art, though she wasn’t the kind of girl who had tattoos all over her arms. I think she had one on her hip and somewhere on her ankle.
Needless to say, if Kim’s parents found out something like this had happened, I didn’t know what would happen.
Harry had pulled out a bowl and some cereal, making him a meal of cereal. The sight was strange to see, but I said nothing. I mindlessly went to my playlist and began playing music.
The music I played was nothing in particular. I went from cheesy love songs—but changed them when Harry let out a disgusted groan from the choice of words—to some hip hop. Harry was silent through these songs, enjoying his meal, and I was tapping my foot against the counter.
Hey, boy you never had much game. So I needed to take a break. So I walked away-ay-ay.
I smiled widely when I recognized this song. Back in high school, Kim and a few of my other friends would sing this song as loud as we could when Kim got a brand new convertible car. The first day she got her license, we drove down the neighborhood, playing this song—with the base the highest it could go so that it was practically throbbing—and singing. Yes we attracted attention, but we were living in the moment.
Now, I see you’ve been hanging out with that other girl in town. Lookin’ like a pair of clowns.
“Remember all the things you and I did first?” I sang lightly, my finger tapping on the counter. I was completely unaware of Harry’s eyes watching me upon hearing my soft voice. “And now you’re doing them with her? Remember all the things you and I did first, you got me, got me like this—”
I remembered sitting in the front seat, hearing Kim giggling over our off-tune voices. I remembered having to lie to my parents about going to “study” with a group of friends for a Physics project. I remembered the way it felt to have the wind in my face, the rawness of having the top of the car.
“And now you’re taking her to every restaurant, and everywhere we went—come on!” I sang a bit louder this time, turning up the volume. “And now you’re taking her to every restaurant, you got me, got me, like this—”
I remember how great it felt to go against my parents.
The secret thrill.
The excitement.
Free.
“Boy you could say anything you want, I don’t give a shit no one else can have ya. I want you back, I want you back—want want you back. I broke it off thinking you’d be crying…” I trailed off when I could literally feel eyes on me. I shut my mouth, my entire face growing hot, to find Harry smirking at me in what—to my relief—looked like amusement.
“Oh no,” Harry said, a little louder to be heard over the music, “don’t let me interrupt you. Continue.”
I quickly paused the music, feeling absolutely mortified. How come I always seem to do things like this, and Harry always seems to catch me? It never failed.
I heard a chair scrape and my body instantly tensed up as Harry walked over to me. I hung my head low as I felt his lips literally brush against my ear.
“Don’t ever look away from me.” He whispered, his hands lightly touching my shoulders. I felt his chest press against my back, and his lips began lowering to my neck.
What is he doing…?
“Were you recalling some long lost memory?” Harry whispered seductively, causing a shiver to run down my spine. I could feel him smirking from my response, and his arms tightened around my shoulders as his lips grazed the back of my neck. His touch was very light—almost ghostly, which explained why my skin pricked up from his mere touch. “I could see it written all over your face, Claire. You were so lost in the moment—all because of a song. Amazing, isn’t it? What little things can remind us of so much.”
Remind us of so much…
I turned around, my eyes confused. Harry’s face was solemn as he gazed down at me, an indescribable look in his dark green eyes.
“For some of us,” Harry murmured, “it’s so hard, almost impossible, to ever even be caught up in memories again. We’re so far past that. So, you should consider yourself lucky to have that.”
“You can’t remember your memories?” I asked hesitantly, my eyes roaming over his face. I saw the refined planes of his facial features, running over the bruises and the gash still on his chin.
Harry didn’t reply. Instead, he gripped my thighs and stepped in between them in such a smooth way. He was towering over me, his eyes devouring me like some kind of predator, and I stared up at him in silence.
“Sometimes you have to force yourself to forget.” Harry told me, craning his neck to lay a soft kiss into the crook of my neck. I leaned my head back, allowing him more access, craving his gentle touch. “Or they’ll eat you alive.”
With that said, he began kissing my neck. I let out a surprised gasp from his sudden ferocity, my elbows leaning back into the counter. I felt my entire body shift backwards as Harry leaned into me, his brown curls brushing against my chin.
“Harry,” I gasped, my breath hitching in my throat. His lips were sucking on my sensitive skin now, and I closed my eyes tightly from the sensation.
“Say my name louder.”
I was too busy trying to breath as his hands began to wander. He pulled away for a moment to snap, “Say my name.”
“Harry,” I said louder this time, satisfied when he plucked himself to my neck again. I felt him sucking on my skin, and I knew it was going to leave a mark.
Why am I not stopping this?
My body complied to Harry’s touch like it was deprived of—what I didn’t know. My mind had gone completely hazy as I allowed Harry to let his hands roam over the curves of my body. I felt like I was on some kind of drug.
I had leaned farther back when Harry leaned even closer, but sudden music made Harry stop.
I guess I accidentally pressed a button on my phone.
I was a quick, wet boy, diving too deep for coins.
The music interrupted Harry, and the curly-haired male pulled away, his face showing me that he was trying to figure out where the noise was coming from. I licked my lips, waiting for it to dawn on him, and when he had fully released me, I knew he figured it out.
All of your street-light eyes wide on my plastic toys. And when the cops closed the fair, I cut my long baby hair, stole me a dog-eared map, and called for you everywhere.
I was a little surprised when Harry pulled fully away from me, but he grabbed a hold of my wrist, tugging me off the seat. I stumbled unexpectedly into his chest and felt his arms wrap around me, tight around my waist. I smiled sheepishly, bringing my head up to expect to see an annoyed expression.
Instead, I saw a small smile. It struck some kind of nerve in me. I’ve never seen Harry smile before. He was always either chuckling bitterly at me, or smirking at something I did. But this was a true, genuine smile. And it made me feel…weird.
“Dance.” He said, and the one word toppled my whole world over.
Have I found you, flightless bird. Jealous, weeping or lost you. American mouth—big pill looming.
This can’t be happening.
Harry is not dancing with me.
And he did not ask me to dance.
Right?
But nonetheless, despite my doubtful thoughts, I did feel Harry gently swaying to the music. And I felt like we were moving step by step, little by little, over the floor. Yes, we were dancing.
Now I’m a fat, house cat, nursing my sore blunt tongue, watching the warm poison rats curl through the wide-fence cracks.
But when I felt Harry looking at me, as if waiting for me to speak, I finally realized what he wanted me to do.
“I danced to this song,” I told him, “in prom. My senior year.” I pictured me in my black and white dress, dancing with a guy I went to class with for four years. It had started out kind of awkward, but as we grew used to the movements of dancing, we both had loosened up.
“What did you wear?” Harry asked quietly.
I took a moment to close my eyes, the music surrounding me. In my head, I was dancing with the boy. He was an average guy; he wasn’t popular yet he wasn’t avoided in the hallways. He was friends with everyone. He wasn’t exactly “handsome” but he was “good-looking,” if that made any sense.
I could remember trying not to trip over my dress. I remembered that, because my dress was long, I was so relieved that I didn’t have to wear high heels. I had worn vans under the dress.
“I wore a black and white dress.” I told Harry, remembering how truly elegant I felt in the dress. My mom didn’t like it at first—she wanted me to pick either a purple or pink dress. But when I put it on, she approved of it. It truly was a sophisticated dress, staring off thin around my torso and spreading into the perfect amount of frills towards the bottom.
Pissing on magazine photos, those fishing lures thrown in the cold and clean blood of Christ mountain stream.
“Who did you dance with?” Harry asked.
“Just a guy from school. He was a friend.” I explained curtly, looking into Harry’s eyes. I could see my reflection. I could see my hair falling past my cheeks, and I could see my own eyes reflected back at me.
Were his eyes empty?
They couldn’t be.
I was in them. Right?
Have I found you. Flightless bird, grounded, bleeding or lost you, American mouth. Big pill, stuck going down.
When the song had ended, I was glad the next one didn’t come on. Harry and I stared at each other, truly lost in one another’s gazes, and that smile on Harry’s face had slightly grown.
He looks so amazing with that smile.
It was a boyish smile. It wasn’t mean or sarcastic—meant for intentional pain.
And suddenly—just as the look came—his entire face twisted. A deep frown had taken place of the soft smile, and he pushed me away roughly. I nearly tumbled over my own feet if not for the kitchen counter catching me. My heart had leapt in my chest, and I stared at Harry in shock.
“Damn it!” He shouted, his voice booming throughout the entirely silent house. I watched in stunned silence as he turned right on his heel, striding purposefully back towards the stairs. I heard his heavy footsteps as he ascended, and it wasn’t until I was all alone again when I realized what had just happened.
Why did he freak out like that?
What happened?
I heard a loud THUD come somewhere from upstairs. I didn’t move from the spot I stood at. My head was literally pounding with a headache now, and my hands were beginning to shake with irregular nerves.
I had no idea what set him off.
I never know what sets him off—it just happens.
I briefly wondered if I should make haste after him but instantly decided against it. Harry scared me when he was like this.
I had begun crying silently to myself, wondering when this whole charade was going to end. I was wondering when Harry was finally going to get bored with me and kill me—or if he was ever just going to let me go.
I don’t even know what to do anymore.

Notes

Wohoo! Another Chapter :D. Hope you like it even though it's crappy :(. Anyway, I shall update this as soon as I possibly can

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