The Darkness Inside Me (Kidnapped by Supernatural 1D)

~AN: Hiya guys, Chrissi here! So Issi and I have been talkin’, and we were decided to write another story!! This one using the writing style we used in a couple of chapters in our other fic (which you should totally check out ;D)), so here it is! Hope you like!~
I’d never much liked liked the dark, but, being friends with a self-proclaimed dark enthusiast, I could never seem to get to get away from it. It was admittedly my own fault; from the first moment I talked to Isabella, she had told me how much she loved the dark and all things associated with it. I could forgive her for that, though, because my friendship with her was more than worth a little bit of discomfort on my part every now and again.
Tonight, however, I was seriously re-thinking my entire friendship with her, because it was a nice summer night and the mosquitoes were absolutely insane.
“Christ, Issi, can’t we just go home?” I complained after shooing what must have been the 58th mosquito away from my ear. “I’m gettin’ eaten alive out here.”
Isabella just laughed. “Oh, shut up, Jana. It’s a gorgeous night outside, the moon is full, and you’re here with me. What could be better?”
“A night not infested with bloodsuckers?” I asked sarcastically, only succeeding in making Isabella laugh again.
“At least they’re not little vampires,” she all but sang.
I rolled my eyes. Isabella had always had a pretty big interest in the supernatural, which I guess came with her infatuation for the night. I couldn’t really fault her for it; myths about vampires and werewolves and the like were all pretty fascinating. Even so, there was only so much I could take. “Yeah,” I started with an over dramatic sigh, “good thing they don’t exist, huh?”
She nudged me playfully but said no more, and we were left to walk in the all-encompassing silence. Well, all-encompassing aside from the natural sounds of the night.
And the damn buzz of the mosquitoes swarming around my face.
I groaned. “Seriously, if I have a bunch of mosquito bites on me tomorrow, you’re dea--” My empty threat was cut off by what sounded like a group of people laughing. No, scratch that, a group of people cackling.
The sound was worrying, to say the least, and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “...Guess we’re not the only ones out here, huh?”
“Guess not,” Isabella agreed. Both of us slowed our pace, not entirely wanted to get close to the source of the laughter but too curious to stop walking completely. The cackling continued in sporadic bursts, each putting me more and more on edge.
Eventually, the laughter was close to us, and its source became semi-visible. It appeared to be a group of people, and, if the cackling was anything to go by, they were male.
They hadn’t noticed us yet, but I was suddenly hit by a wave of panic. I grabbed Isabella’s arm tightly and stopped walking. “We should go,” I said, whispering now.
“Are you kidding me?” she whispered back. “We’re not leaving just because there’s other people.” But her tone was uncertain, and she hadn’t tried to continue walking, so she must have felt the same panic I did.
The group’s guffawing stopped then, however, presumably due to them spotting us, so we couldn’t do much but stand there awkwardly. After what was probably the most tense silence I’d ever experienced, one of the people in the group spoke up.
“Well, what do we have here?” The voice was a bit high-pitched but still undeniably male. The guy broke away from the group and took a few steps closer to us, and, though I couldn’t really make out his features, I could tell he was tilting his head. “It’s a bit late to be going out on a walk, isn’t it?”
Beside me, Isabella straightened up and pulled her arm out of my grip. “Never too late for a nice stroll around the block,” she retorted with an astounding amount of confidence.
Someone else in the group let out a loud laugh and stumbled forward. “You think it’s honestly safe for two girls to walk outside alone so late?” the new speaker asked. He had a strong Irish accent, as well as a strong slur, cluing us in on the fact that he was likely drunk off his ass.
“We can take care of ourselves,” Isabella scoffed. “Besides, nothing in this neighborhood is dangerous.”
“Aside from the mosquitoes, anyway,” I muttered, too quiet for anyone but Isabella to hear.
Or not, apparently. The Irish guy must have heard me, because he laughed again and said, “Ah, yeah, they’re pretty crazy tonight, huh?” His head twisted around to look back at those still huddled together. “You hear that, Haz? Bloodsuckers are too much for some people.”
Someone else—Haz, presumably—hummed and stepped forward, leaving the last group member’s side. “Some people just haven’t met me, Ni,” replied Haz, his voice deep and drawling. Something about that voice speaking those words set me on edge—more on edge than I’d previously been—and I grabbed Isabella’s arm again.
“We should really get going,” I started carefully, attempting to not show my fear. “You guys are right. It’s late, and we need to get back home. Nice, uh. Nice meeting you.” With that, I turned around to leave, only to be confronted by one of the men who’d previously spoken.
“Aw, going so soon?” It was the one who’d first spoken to us. His tone was sarcastic and cocky, which pissed me off more than I should have let it.

I tried to push past him without giving him the satisfaction of a reply, but he seamlessly blocked every direction I tried to go, so I had no choice but to respond. “Weren't you the one who said it was too late for us to be out?” I snapped at the man.
It looked like he shrugged. “Maybe. But maybe now I want you to stay.”
There was a sigh, and then from behind us the Irish one—Ni, I thought— said, “Leave them alone, Louis. Now is not the time to be messing with mortals.” The slur was no longer apparent in his voice; instead, there was a tone of firmness, of authority. That tone seemed to get through to the Louis guy, because he moved to the side to let us through, grumbling.
Ni calling us ‘mortals’ confused me, but not enough that I had to question it. Instead, I started moving forward.
Isabella, however, evidently didn't share my feelings, as she refused to budge. “What do you mean, ‘mortals?’” She asked. “Are you saying that you’re not--”
The rest of Isabella’s sentence was cut off by a loud shriek-like howl. Everyone, including the group of men, stiffened where they stood.
“...What was that?” Isabella asked after a moment, and at the same time the first speaker let out a string of curses.
The next series of events happened almost too fast for me to comprehend: the Irish one commanded, “Zayn, do what you have to,” and the figure who’d not yet spoken said, “Right.” His shadowed form changed then——from a humanoid one to something huge, terrifying, and vaguely canine-sounding—and he/it ran past us. Then the one closest to us, Louis, tackled both Isabella and me to the ground.
“What the fu—” I began to say, but Louis pressed a firm hand to my mouth.
“I’m sorry,” he told the both of us, not sounding all that apologetic, before wrapping one hand around my throat and presumably doing the same to Isabella. I clawed at his hand, but it didn’t budge in the slightest, and my struggling only made my conscious leave me sooner.

Notes