Shapes [DISCONTINUED]

01 | Intro

AN: This story will be in first person, this sneak peek/intro is only in third person for plot purposes but other than that, the rest is first person.

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There were signs that time was running out.

Signs that he, was coming.

He could feel it in the little jerks of his knee that were too subtle for anyone to notice underneath the dining room table.

In the way his ring clad fingers twitched whenever his wife passed by him, causing him to slide his tattooed arms down so he could fumble with his hands to keep them busy from any temptations.

There's no saying when it started, because the feeling never stopped.

His urges only somehow became stronger that faithful day his wife had accidently cut herself when she was helping him pick up the mess of glass he had so clumsily spilled on their floors.

She didn't flinch or make a sound as she observed the red dot forming over the pad of her thumb with a calm expression, for she had a high pain tolerance as she made a face and showed him with a scrunch of her nose.

His wife then simply got up to clean her cut and get a bandaid, passing by her husband, unknowing that there was some sort of sickening, dark arousal growing deep down inside of him at the sight of blood staining his wife's skin.

A part of him -that he had tried to supress for much too long- found it pretty as he wondered what other beautifully amazing gashes and scars would look on his love's soft skin.

This was not him, this was not the husband he was -for who would find pleasure in seeing their own significant other hurt?

No, it was Him. And he was getting stronger.

Would his wife cry out at the feel of a blade running down her back?

Did she long to have his hands wrapped firmly around her small throat just like him?

These unwanted thoughts haunted him, to the point where he was up till the crack of dawn, blue, frightened eyes trained up on the shadowed ceiling above him while his wife slept soundly besides him.

She shifted, warm body pressed against his.

His hand twitched, itching to hold her, pin her down, choke her.

Before his hand could grab her on its own accord he quickly caught his wrist, actually sitting up and physically holding himself back with wide horrified eyes while his fingers shook with anticipation as they hovered over her shoulder, all the commotion making her stir before she rubbed at her eyes and looked at him with a sleepy, confused expression.

She called his name, asking if he was alright but he wasn't listening, just staring at his hand before he quickly got up from the bed, his side of the blanket falling to the floor as he rushed into their bathroom, making sure to lock it behind him as he heard his wife outside the door, trying to check on him.

He reassured her with a tired "I'm fine," his breathing uneven and his sweaty, tattooed chest heaving up and down as he placed his hands over the sink to stable him.

He could feel it, feel himself slipping as he rubbed at his flushed face in frustration, trying to drown out the worried voice of his wife just outside before he pushed up his waves of blonde, shoulder length hair, looking up at the mirror in front of him and freezing when he saw Him.

What he saw in the mirror was not himself, but was that of Him, dark brown locks replacing his blonde ones as sadistic, jade green eyes looked back at him.

His reflection smirked back at him with a promising, sinful expression.

Heath gawked at the mirror as his alternate personality Harry grinned from the other side of it, raising a finger and dragging it across the mirror, writing a message as Heath's eyes widened at the two words Harry formed and traced over the reflective surface.

Time's up.

H E A T H:

H A R R Y (alternate personality):

H A B I B A:

C O M I N G  
S O O N