Dictator [One Direction AU]

11

Date: 06.03.2063

Throwing herself on the bed, she let herself mourn for another few hours till night had set in and the moon shone through her windows.

"Harry always talked about the moon," Jane whispered to herself as she thought back to all the conversations she had with Harry alone. He was obbessed with galaxies and the universe, his mind was always full of philosophical ideas.

"Why did it have to be me?" Jane cried out while punching the pillow that she held in her lap, she didn't understand why Louis had chosen her as a bride. In many ways she wished that she could return to her little village and live in her small house that had cracks in the roof.

Grabbing the notebook from the table, she opened the first page and decided that she needed to write her feelings down. In her neatest writing, which she had learnt from her father, she expressed her inner thoughts onto the crisp paper.

I am married to a monster- a raging, bloodthirsty monster who loves nothing more than to see me in pain. This life may be full of gold and pretty dresses but none of that has any substance, it is just there. While everyone here has a smile on there face, I can tell that inside they are hollow just like I am. And Louis is nothing more than a lost boy.

But I can not defend my husband, if I have to call him that. He is a cruel man who sees death as if it were nothing, he may be the grim reaper in disguise. The devil probably plays cards with Louis, the monsters under my bed are his best friends. That man holds more sin than any hell, than any war. He has no conscience, not at all! He will kill any man, woman or child if they annoy him- and he is easily annoyed.

Why me? I thought plain Janes were destined for boring lives with boring husbands and children who had no creativity. But now I understand that this myth is nothing but fiction because I am living proof that just because your name is Jane doesn't mean that you're immune to danger. I am worried after what happened today that it will be my head rolling on the floor next. But if my blood is shed then so be it, I will be just another death. 

I will never fall in love with Louis, I will never like him. I don't think anyone truly likes him, not even his own friends. He is the type of man who is so unlikeable that those who pretend to be his close friends can't even stand to be in the same room as him when they are sober. Every man in this palace drinks till their eyes are so bloodshot that they can't see and their legs are too shaky to walk. I want to go home, I want to forget everything that has happened.

Closing the book, Jane knew that she couldn't write about Harry without crying onto the paper and smudging the ink. She was still in shock from the things her eyes had witnessed that day, from the horrors that had unfolded in front of her. Public executions were common, she had in fact been to some before and cheered just like the crowd had, but there was something about the death of Harry Styles that was so morbid that even people who didn't know the man came away feeling slightly somber.

Nobody mourned the death of the gardener quite like the lady who loved him the most, his lover and friend Jane. But Jane was the reason why Harry had died, it was her beauty that meant that he couldn't keep himself away. He couldn't think straight. Their love intoxicated them and they were so drunk of happiness that they didn't think about the risks.

"I don't think I can live here knowing that Harry used to be so close," Jane whispered into the cold air, wrapping herself in the blanket to make her feel warm. Her lips were icy cold, as if an eternal frost had covered them and her skin was like snow to touch.

"Maybe I have died inside," she moaned as she felt her face, "And that is why I am so cold. Maybe my blood is frozen, my skin is ice. He has taken my heart with him to his grave, I know I cannot live without it."

Jane told herself that she was thinking like a crazy person, that soon she would be able to bear the pair of the loss and move on with her life. But in that very moment she felt like time had frozen and the hands on her clock would never move again.

"Oh what a wicked world!" She cursed into the cold air of her room and balled her fists as more tears dripped down her soft cheeks. There was no one to wipe them away from her, there was no one to comfort her in mourning.

Closing her delicate eyelids, she let sleep take her. She didn't want to be awake in a world filled with so much injustice. In her dreams she could see Harry's face as though he was standing right in front of her except he was a ghostly place. She pictured him as the holy spirit, to live forever eternally as the beautiful man that he once was.