One Direction Preferences (Interracial-Bwwm)

Mental //Harry//

I have a problem. A really big problem. I can't help myself. I stared at the girl on the ground. I didn't want to do that to her, but she made me. She wouldn't stop screaming! I sat down on the recliner, just watching her. She was really pretty. I grabbed my knife and cut a piece of her hair. So soft. I brought the hair to my nose and inhaled deeply. Vanilla. I frowned and kneeled down to her level. I shook her softly. She groaned and rolled over. Her eyes fluttered open. She finally looked at me and tried to scream, but she couldn't. I looked to the needle and thread on the table. I had sewn her mouth shut. I helped her up, pushing her hair out of her face. I kissed the side of her head.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." I told her over and over again. I grabbed a cloth and cleaned the beads of blood that appeared around her mouth. She started crying, closing her eyes tightly. "Don't cry, you're safe." I smoothed her hair down, wrapping my arms around her. She was shaking. "I love you." I kissed her stitched lips softly. Her eyes flew opened. I smiled softly and lifted her up into my arms. I did love her. She was mine. Mine forever. I walked up the steps to the second floor. Each step creaking under the pressure of our weight. I opened my bedroom door and laid her down on the bed. "So beautiful." I whispered, pulling the blankets around her. I untie her arms then retie them to the bed structure. Once I knew she was trapped and wouldn't be able to escape, I climbed into he bed with her.
She cowards away from me, but I ignored that and wrapped my arms around her. I started to sing to her softly, something my mom would always sing to me. I loved my mom. My mom was my world, but she was gone. They took her away from me. They said she was crazy and needed some help. I don't think she was. If she was, that would mean I was crazy, but I wasn't. I just had a problem. I thought it was a huge problem, but now that I looked down at the girl, I knew it was now a minor problem. You're probably thinking I'm crazy. I'm not. I'm sane. I'm not crazy. I sat up in the bed, looking at the girl. What have I done? I reached into the nightstand and grabbed a pair of scissors. She looked up at me in fear as I careful cut the stitches. See I'm not crazy. I'm sane. I kissed the corner of her lips, smiling wide at what I had done.
"I fixed you. I love you." The girl spat out blood. It hit me on my cheeks. I brought my hand to my face, cleaning it.
"You're mental!" She screeched out. She's being mean to me. My mom was nice. I miss my mom. My mom used to make me cookies and cook my favorite meals. I'm not crazy. "Did you even hear me?" The girl screamed. Her voice was annoying, but she was still pretty. I don't know what happened, but some how I punched her. I punched her hard. She gasped.
"I'm sorry. Oh what have I done?" I pull her close. I kissed her face over and over again. "Do you love me?" She must love me, I fixed her. She glared at me. Did she not love me?
"Like I said before, you're mental." I pushed her away from me and jumped off the bed.
"I'm not crazy! I'm not crazy!" I dropped to my knees, burying my head in my hands. I rocked back and forth on the ground. I'm not crazy. I'm not. Where's my mom?
"Mom?" I sit up straight looking around the room. I looked to the girl on the bed.
"Who are you?" I stood up climbing on the bed, straddling her. "You're not my mom." I leaned forward brushing my lips against hers. She was bleeding. Did I do that? Why is she looking at me like that? I'm not crazy. I'm not. "Do you love me?" She must. I kissed her softly. She tastes like blood. I don't like that at all. I stroke her cheeks softly. "You're so pretty." She blinks, turning her face from me. "You think I'm crazy." She keeps silence. Everyone thinks I'm crazy. They said my mom was. I knew she wasn't. Just like I'm not crazy. I walked to my closet and pulled out a bag. These use to be my mom's clothes. I pulled out a white silk dress. It was my moms favorite. I walked over to the girl and start to undress her. She wasn't fighting anymore. I think she was tired. Did I mention she was bleeding? I'm not crazy. I slipped the dress on her. She looked pretty in it. "We're going to get married." I smiled, "We're going to have kids. I want three of them" I pecked her lips. "I promise you, I'm not crazy."