✓ maple street murderers || h.styles

six: you're the one he picks

The man pulls his mask over his face to make it rest on top of his head, and the first thing Delilah sees are blue eyes. He can't be older than twenty five; but the wide smile he's wearing makes her wonder how sane he is. The way he looks reminds her of a child on Christmas morning; the excitement that shows in how antsy he is is making her feel nervous.

He looks down at all of the red staining her clothes, and steps closer to bring his finger to the side of her neck where she's still bleeding.

Delilah is standing frozen in the center of the room. Her eyes drift off to the walls that bear news articles. On one side of the wall there's a section of twenty five articles about murders that have happened in Maple Street. Above all of the papers is the name West.

She looks at the other wall that has the name Styles printed above twenty other murder articles, except there are pictures mixed with them. She sees Harry's face and for a moment she forgets how to breathe. His eyes are cast downward in all of the pictures. Over and over and over again. It's him leaving his house and inviting officers into his home. There's him inviting women into his house and notes beside the pictures saying that the girls have never left.

Harry Styles: Main Suspect of Murders of Three Different Women.

There are receipts with the name Harry Styles. Three knives, two ropes, and four different duct tapes. Delilah stares long and hard at the pictures of her boyfriend and it isn't until the unmasked man places his hand on the small of her back that she refocuses on him instead.

"I still wonder why you're alive."

She swallows and is too shocked to resist him as he walks her over to the wall containing pictures of Harry. She feels so stupid. Scared. "What?"

"I just had to meet you and see what's so special about you."

Her hand sneaks into her pocket slowly. Now she's determined. At this point, it's just her. No one else matters except her. Her eyes drift to the screen against all other computer equipment, eyes catching Harry in one of the rooms a few doors down. He opens a door and heavy liquid falls atop him, drenching him completely.

Reluctantly, she turns to look at the only man in the room with her. "What's your name?"

"Adam." He gently strokes the side of her face.

Delilah nods and curls her fingers over the dagger hidden in her fleece sweater's pocket. Her heart is hammering hard in her chest because killing someone has never crossed her mind before. "Adam," she repeats his name and steadily continues with, "I'm going to need you to stop touching me."

Adam tucks his bottom lip between his teeth. "You let him touch you," he whispers by her ear. "You let him touch you all over." He leans over with his lips grazing her torn neck where the blood is still slipping from.

The moment she feels the sting of his teeth on her skin, she pushes him back and watches him stumble. "I said don't touch me."

He pulls hard at his hair and shuts his eyes like he's frustrated. She doesn't have time to guess what his next move is before his hand lifts up. The back of his palm collides with her cheek and she falls over with the force.

Lying there for a moment, Delilah considers her options. She can't spring up and try to stab him because he could be faster than her. She doesn't have time to try to get him close to her after she's on her feet because Harry isn't that far from them anymore.

"Get up." Adam's voice is softer now.

Del wipes her mouth with the sleeve of the sweater to try to get the blood out of it. She tilts her head and blinks down at the wet cement under her, an idea coming to her after only a few seconds. "I can't."

"Get up," he repeats himself. "I didn't mean to hit you like that. You just got me mad for a moment. Let me see how bad-"

"I can't get up," she interrupts him. "It hurts too much."

"Oh." His footsteps are heavy as they near her and when his hands grab her arms to bring her up, she closes her eyes in preparation. "You could've just said so. I would've-"

She swings the knife forward and then draws it back with as much force as she can muster. She drives it back to the body on top of her. Over and over again until his hands fall from her arms. The taste of blood is in her mouth and she feels it on her face and clothes. It makes her head dizzy.

Finally, when she's sure everything is done, her eyes reopen.

Lying at her feet with his face planted against the floor is Adam. The knife she used to kill him is still in her hand and she drops it when she looks down at how bloody it is.

🔪🔪🔪

Harry makes the final turn into the last room. The heavy smell of gasoline is radiating off of him and he's afraid ShitFace did it for a reason. In his hand is Delilah's lighter, and though he feels like one wrong move can set him off in flames, he knows his hands are more skilled than to make a lousy mistake like slip.

He walks into the room and pauses at the doorway. There's a body on the floor but no other person. The amount of blood around it is mind boggling to him, and he's so close to walking over to it before he sees movement on the other end of the room.

Relieved when he sees Delilah's back to him, he looks down at the lighter and then clears his throat to get her attention. "I found your lighter."

She stays unmoving.

Harry walks slowly toward her. When he's close enough, he slips it into her back pocket. "Del." He sounds so pathetic and vulnerable but he's okay with that. "Baby, please look at me."

Her head tilts and she finally picks up her hand, index finger extending out to point at something on the wall. "I want the truth, Harry."

His face pales and his heart practically stops beating in his chest. The pictures of him on the wall let him know what's going on. There are articles about murders and missing people reports. He wishes he was dead. He looks down at her and notices all of the blood plastered against her skin and clothes. And this shouldn't have happened to her but it did, and it's all his fault. She hates him and it's all his fault. "I never wanted this to happen. You have to believe me."

"Is it true?" Her tone is clipped. She's not angry; he can tell. She sounds emotionless. "Did you kill those people?"

Harry's always hated lying to people he cares about, which is why he ran away from home when he was so young. It's something he's always lived by: honesty to those he loves. So he slumps forward in defeat and somehow this feels right to him. He looks down at the woman he loves who has retrieved her lighter while he was sorting through the battle in his head. "What if I did? You're willing to drop that lighter?"

"I want you to answer the question."

He's already gotten used to the stench of gasoline on his skin. "Yes," he closes his eyes briefly and then reopens.

The fire emerges from the lighter and her eyes dilate before him.

"I killed them, Delilah. I'll tell you anything you want. But I don't...want that anymore. I want you. I'm in love with you and I'm not better yet, but if you give me some time, I'll get my shit right. Just give me the chance. Give me some-"

Delilah's hand releases the lighter and flames alight like a second sun.

[unedited.]

[there are only two more chapters left and they'll be posted tomorrow :) have a great day/night! thank you so much for reading!]