Harry Styles
Darkness.
Everything around me was simply black, I couldn't see a fucking thing and it was the worst feeling. I could tell my eyes were open but it felt like they weren't, and that pressure in my chest as if someone was stepping on me just resurfaced like it always did.
Fear was a funny feeling, it happened suddenly and it was one of the few things you couldn't control in life. It controlled you.
My ears were ringing so loudly that it was a kind of pain that I didn't enjoy, this always happened. This fear hurt me and I couldn't get enough air in my lungs, desperately gasping and trying to focus before I could pass out.
I also couldn't move, every time I tried my entire fucking body hurt way too much. It felt like someone had punched a hole through my stomach and rearranged my organs. I was injured, I could feel that... broken ribs for sure, my shoulder hurt too and also my face.
Everything hurt actually, especially my head.
I was thinking too much and there was no way to stop it, I was about to have a panic attack and the lights just wouldn't turn on.
I just needed them to turn on.
This brought me back to the night at the hotel when Cleo accidentally turned off the lamp
Fuck.
Cleo.
The memories came crashing in, almost as if my fear had been blocking them, but now it replayed in fast forward in my mind, making it even more impossible for me to breathe as my heart literally raced in my chest.
We were followed and shot at... two cars and very careless people that didn't give a fuck about anyone else or drawing attention.
This didn't make much sense because if they had all the hard work of getting me and Cleo in the same place so they could kill us, why simply shoot us like nothing mattered?
They shot the tires and I just knew we were going too fast to be able to stop, it happened so fucking fast.
I didn't even have time to look at Cleo, I quickly put on the seatbelts before I could be thrown out of the car as soon as it rolled over, and I was so fucking thankful Cleo had also buckled up after she moved to the driver's seat.
She was the first thing I thought about when we crashed, and also the last thing before I passed out when my head hit somewhere very damn hard.
But we weren't at the hospital and Cleo wasn't here. I was alone in the dark.
Maybe I died and this was the hell I was bound to live every fucking day from now on.
I knew I wasn't the kind of person who would end up going to heaven, most of my religious tattoos were purely a joke simply because of that. I'd killed so many people and felt no fucking remorse afterwards, and I didn't feel the need to change that.
When you grow up in a certain type of environment, you think that is normal. Guns, drugs, and death were my normal and I learned since I was younger... and I was very good at this, so I never even considered anything else. I enjoyed it.
Maybe I should feel worried about my psychological state, but I was too fucked up for that.
Hell would be a home sweet home, and as Cleo once said: we both certainly liked to play with fire.
I fucking wished there was fire though, I needed some kind of illumination before I could panic even more and literally stop breathing.
The dark made me feel sick to my stomach, and I could feel I was about to throw up anytime now.
