Desolation [h.s]

Chapter 26

Seraphina Amor

I just kissed Harry.

I kissed Harry.

Harry.

Harry Styles.

I just made out like some teenager in a kitchen with the one person I couldn't stand and I enjoyed it. My body was still buzzing with adrenaline, every nerve in my body on edge and practically screaming at me for stopping us.

There was nothing that could wipe the gentle smirk off my face, not even the grotesque image of fourteen peoples' brains blown out could stop the giddy feeling in me.

Maybe it wasn't the most appropriate emotion to be experiencing right now, especially with the horrific picture that was cast upon the screen in front of me, but I couldn't help myself. It was like my entire body was on fire.

I could still feel the ghost of his lips on mine, how soft they were and how they fit perfectly on mine. How there was something in his movements. Perhaps it was desperation, familiarity, and even relief. Maybe he had been thinking about this for as long as I have, no matter how wrong or inappropriate it may be.

I could still feel his warm hands on my skin, his touch like a pure drug and I wanted a hit again as soon as possible. How his hands were rough yet so soft at the same time, such a contradictory thing but working in the most magnificent way. His touch was like hot and cold, fire and ice and I wanted more.

These were things that I should not be thinking, not even be fantasizing about, and certainly not acting upon.

But, there was not a care in me at the moment about that.

Though, that didn't mean the thoughts were not in the back of my head, swimming and lingering in the darkest shadows. The knowledge and understanding of what this may mean or possibly lead to.

That, however, was too far in the future and I did not want to worry about that. Not right now, at least.

Not right now when I can feel the hot puffs of air slipping past Harry's lips and tickling the back of my neck, causing goosebumps to raise in its presence.

Not right now when I can feel his body heat directly behind me, nearly pressed against my back as he leans over my shoulder, tattooed arms caging me in between them as he looks at the screen.

The urge to ogle at his arms is strong, almost too strong for my liking, and it takes everything in me to keep my eyes glued forward, focused on the image at hand.

"Bloody fuck," Harry rasps, a long sigh leaving him.

I nod subtly, hands clenched into fists as I look at the picture that was forwarded to us. "Yeah, you can say that again."

"Here I was thinking this guy was a complete joke and just bluffing."

I think this is probably one of the most disgusting and utterly sinister images I've ever seen in my life.

The only thing that is painted across the screen is red, blood red.

The color is painted across the fourteen lifeless bodies that are captured in the still photo, displayed across the screen for the two of us to see. It makes my stomach churn and that high feeling from before quickly wash down the drain, replaced with pure repulsion and a sick feeling bubbling in my stomach.

I thought I had seen things, scenes that could never disappear or be forgotten about, but this is something I don't think I will ever forget.

Six of the bodies are hung from the ceiling by their arms, chains digging into their bruised wrists that keep them from touching the bloodied ground below them. Each of them are men, their shirts removed and exposing their chests. However, their chests are not bare, and I desperately wish they were.