Chiller (harry styles)

Preface: The Lost Summer

"I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul." ~ Pablo Neruda

PREFACE

Darkness surrounds me like a blanket, but it does not give me warmth the way an old quilt would. It does not make me feel loved or safe with every stitch in its sky. It is cold, like winter snow, and without hot stars to brighten the black spaces. There is a boy beside me. I can feel his hands on me, igniting my body full of heat to some degree of a maddening temperature. It feels too good, the way something that is bad feels so right. He turns his head to smirk at me. We play this game a lot. Turn the lights off and whisper secrets.

"You make me better. Every time I'm with you, I'm different." He whispers huskily, his words burning the flame of my heart, lighting me up like a candle.

And then I feel myself flying. I am a moth to a flame with him, Icarus flying too close to the sun. He is so beautiful, so true in all ways. But he isn't mine and he never will be. He has a life. I am just some girl.

"Harry, I need to tell you something. You know, before we..."

I gesture to his hands trying to slip my panties off. He smirks.

"Oh, do you, now? Don't worry, baby, I just want to make you feel good...Make me feel good. You're so sexy in that bra, so sexy." He growls in his raspy voice.

I want to be very careful before we do anything like this again. He is so rough with me, and the pain is unbearable to feel. He'll leave bruises on my hips and legs and never know it until it is too late. It burns me deeply to have him touch me because he gets so passionate, pain and pleasure streaking throughout my veins, and I wonder how that could be possible. How can I love it while he hurts me? How can a woman be enamored by a man who doesn't purposely harm her, but still allows his love to burn so hot it leaves her skin aflame? I think maybe I'm obsessed with him. This summer has been the best of my life, and I am blinded by my insane feelings for him.

I watch as his eyes grow black, lust filling them up full steam. God, he is so sexy. But he scares me too. He is so privy about everything, but I know he has a secret. I know all about its dark depths. He has a habit of taking me to the very place we are now, to be together. This dipped up boat floating in a stream under the moonlight. He's a pool player, the kind with a cigarette dangling from his mouth and a bag of money lying under the table. He's also a hardcore gambler with no real family, no real home, no one to love. And I know why, a thought says that runs across my mind.

He lives in this terrible smoke filled broken down shack, a place called "BIG PETE'S", but personally I have never been inside, to tell the truth. We're far from that home now, both of us, and besides, I wouldn't dare anyway. I'm a lady, after all, and that's a shabby stinking place. I was raised in a high rise mansion, nothing at all like the filth he sleeps in at night.

 Or does he even sleep? Maybe he seeks his victims at night, in the middle of no where, where there isn't anyone  around to hear their screams, another thought says.

I can feel my heart beat quickly against my chest. I know all these things, but what is eating at his soul? I have no clue as to what could ever bring him to his knees. I turn my head to watch him watching me carefully, an expression of something unfathomable in his emerald green eyes.

"Tell me, baby." He whispers.

I feel a shiver rundown my spine. I know what he is. I know what he does.

"I know what you are, Harry."

He stiffens like a board, but stays silent, a silence that stretches out between us and builds walls I break down with three simple words.

"You're a Chiller," I whisper, without preamble, without fear.

The last thing I feel are Harry's cold lips pressed to my throat, and his breathing against my ear. As his arms wrap around me, I watch as his hands turn to ice, white as the snow in winter.

"Are you afraid?" He mummers.

I have heard the stories about Chillers. They are more brutal than werewolves, vampires, warlocks, anything. And yet I feel safe with him.

"Definitely not."

If I thought the burning was hot before, then I must have never felt a flame.

"I was hoping you would say that," he breathes, and I feel I am on fire.