A "classic" 1974 love story.
Harry Styles is a famous english painter, a tortured artist who leads a life in black and white, in search of a spark of inspiration, of color. So he moves to sunny California, and finds his spark.
She is precious, confi...
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The car keys dangle on the edge of his finger, his jaw flexes as he chews on a piece of raspberry gum that reminds him of you. His footsteps are heavy on the pavement as he walks swiftly in the small alleyway between storage units. He left his car unlocked after turning the engine off because there's really no one else here. His other hand rests easily in his pocket as he walks towards his garage door, hidden between many others, hidden on the side of the city no one wants to go to because really there's nothing here, for the exception of a few drug addicts living in abandoned buildings. But here is where everything happened, where he left her.
The sun is low in the sky, ready to kiss the sea goodbye and he's here, fixing his mistakes. This morning with you was glorious, how soft you were with him and good you were for him. That picture in his mind, wrists bound above your head, your rib cage popping with each of your deep breaths, your glorious body beneath his, your face torn in pleasure, and your goodbye kiss. He feels as if his heart was beating faster each time his eyes landed on you, and now he knows you even more, the past that fucked you up, the people who fucked you up, how much closer he feels to you now that he knows you. And he sees it in your eyes too, the way you look at him, that look in your eyes that tells him you're hooked. You're nothing like she was.
Leaning down he inserts the key into the small lock before opening it, and with just his hand he lifts the garage door off the floor until the latch catches on to hold it up. The streetlights beaming at his back makes the shadow of his figure look even taller, intimidating as she looks up at him, terror in her tear filled eyes. He looks into them and chuckles to himself, wondering how on earth he even thought that they looked like yours, she could never be you.
"Hi." He smiles and a shiver runs down her spine, and immediately she starts crying again, sobs that shake her small shoulders as she leans against the cold wall, furthest away from him.
Her chestnut hair is a mess, with dried blood that dripped down her forehead to the rest of her face, her bare feet are dirty but so is the rest of her. With both wrists tied together around a metal ring he bolted into the cement floor, a chain around her ankles, face now rid of any makeup probably from a vast amount of tears that were shed in his absence. Walking in he doesn't even bother to close the door behind him, he sees her throat constricting and his bottom lip pouts as he walks closer before crouching down to her level. "Didn't mean to leave you here so long. If I take this out are you gonna scream?" He tilts his head to the side and she frantically shakes her head, desperate for a deep breath of air. He grins and unties the cloth material behind her head before pulling out the rest from her mouth, the material soaked in her saliva had pushed down further into her mouth and almost down her throat as she cried and tried to scream when he left her here. Any longer and she would've choked on it and died.
He cradles the back of her head as she gasps for air and coughs, he finally hears her cries but as promised she doesn't say a word, or tries to scream for help. He hushes her and strokes the back of her hair as she cries silently, desperately catching her breath. His eyes trail down to her wrists, and his throat tightens at the sight of the bruises and the blood she managed to scratch out of her veins from trying so hard to slip her hands out of the chains, and then her ankles that are in even worse shape.
