~* Bad decisions make great stories *~
A Harry Styles dark romance that explores the intricacies of mental health, morality and sexual attraction. Enter a world of sin, opulence and crime.
*****
It started and ended with the wind.
She was a hurrican...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
An intrusive, repetitive noise pierces the strange, semi-conscious moment between sleep and waking that has me trapped; a confused, dream-like purgatory filled with dread and unease. My ears feel plugged; all ambient noises - bar the harsh, shrill ringing that interrupted my sleep - muted somehow by the intense pressure in my head. I can't feel anything in my body other than a crushing sense of heaviness in my limbs, making it impossible to move. Instead I focus on trying to pry my eyelids open.
An almost impossible task in itself.
The elation I feel when I finally achieve my goal is instantly ruined by a rush of searing pain that starts in my head and zaps down my entire body at devastating and overwhelming speed. My pulse spikes as I try to gasp for breath, only to be hit with the familiar, binding pain of broken ribs. Even the tiniest expansion of my tortured lungs results in crippling agony in my chest.
I'm powerless against the panic that floods my entire nervous system like fire along my veins; all I can do is blink rapidly to clear the hazy fog from my bleary eyes. As my vision clears my confusion only grows. I don't recognise the room I'm in; my view limited by my inability to move. Wherever I am it's not a hospital and it is definitely not Evan's house. There's a soft light coming from a lamp beside the bed I'm in, illuminating grey walls; everything in my peripheral vision looks expensive and impersonal.
Through the blinding pain and short, frantic breaths I force myself to focus on what else I can feel in a desperate attempt to gain my bearings; the mattress beneath me is the perfect mix of soft and firm and the sheets luxuriously silky against my skin. In my current state there is no logical reasoning my addled brain can come up with to determine where I am.
All thoughts, feelings and even breathing stops when my hearing sharpens and I pick up the sound of movement in the room with me as the alarm that woke me abruptly cuts off.
"Shit." Harry's deep, accented voice shatters whatever pathetic, miniscule amount of control I had on my anxiety. In my panic I try and take a deep breath; shockwaves ripple throughout my entire body from the pain and I reflexively switch straight to hyper-ventilating. Blood rushes in my ears and I feel a familiar wetness on my cheeks. My head spins and I have to squeeze my eyes shut to block the sight of the walls twisting and tilting unnaturally.
"Hey, no no Addy, you're ok. You're safe, I promise." Harry's voice sounds so far away; I can barely make out his words through the suffocating haze of painful panic. Something warm tugs at my wrist and I open my eyes to see Harry gently pushing a syringe into a cannula in the back of my hand. Ice cold relief trickles through my veins and my body relaxes almost instantaneously.
