.Perfect Fantasy. |H.S.|

Chapter 1. Home.

3 weeks later.
.Harry.

The sky crackled with thunder and the heavy raindrops were pouring down on the pool surface and rattling against the window frames of my bedroom. Unwrapping the fluffy black towel around my waist, I moved from the window view to my closet, looking for a pair of clean boxers, some black socks and a thick jumper. I picked one of my favorite scented candles lightning it to help me relax from the tiring day at the recording studio and my very intense 2-hour training session.

My fingers were raking through my wet hair, when the sound of a vibration startled me. I fumbled through the pockets of my previously worn pants, but the sound was gone and I failed to answer it.

It was Jeff, or Glenne, or probably both of them.
I wasn't really planning on returning the call, not in the mood for going out, which was probably the intention of it. I pulled head and arms through the thick wooly sweater, already feeling better. I wanted nothing but relax my muscles and get some decent sleep, the recent nights were soon taking a toll on me.

I saw the light up of the screen when his text messages arrived. I was quietly flinching as I laid eyes on it, but instead of typing in an instant refusal, I stooped briefly to drop the phone back on the small white ottoman by my bed.

Flopping down on the messy bed and causing the bedsprings to mold along with my body, I stared up at the ceiling, the tender aches of my knuckles and arms were still accompanying me after boxing.
A long sigh left my body and I felt nothing but peace in the room. I liked it.

After a couple of minutes feeling my eyelids close and open like an exhaustion battling pattern, a loud noise was breaking through the house tranquility, cutting through the sounds of the storm outside, and confusion raced through my system.

Just by the front door, a weird sound of metal against metal and footsteps, fucking footsteps inside the house.

My ears were alert like the devil was behind me. The thought that someone was in here left a sickening lurch in my stomach that I could not afford to acknowledge. My hands delved for the remote hidden between my unmade covers, fingers clicking and trying to reach for the security channel, fearing that I was going to see whatever the hell was happening downstairs.

Or maybe it was the rain making those weird noises?
Please be the rain. Please. Please.

I found the channel and stared at the screen, my eyes wildly looking at every corner of the camera frames; on every image, at the entrance, on the hall, but nothing, there was no one in the house but me.

I was probably panicking for nothing, or maybe I wanted to go out so badly, I was just creating random thoughts to get out of this and agreeing to whatever Jeff had to offer me. I tiptoed to the bedroom door, and looked downstairs, but there was no use, there was nothing down there.
Just turn on all the lights.
And I did just that, flicking the one on the corridor, the lights on the living room and kitchen.

Nothing.

Maybe it was the neighbor being loud. I was shaking my head to myself and walked to the kitchen, opening the fridge door and just looking around. I wasn't hungry, nor thirsty, I was just bored. I filled the kettle with water and turned the flame into a low burn, before making my way to the sofa.

My eyes were then catching on a single piece of red paper lying on the coffee table right in front of me.
I know this paper, it's not the first time I've seen it.
I felt genuinely scared.
It's been a couple of weeks of someone sticking this bloody envelope through the gate of my house, scaring the hell out of me when I see those damn messages that just don't make any sense.