Through The Dark

~Chapter Three~

Through The Dark

Chapter 3 ~Heart Attack~

 

 

 

I woke up the next morning much too early. I groaned and rolled away from the light coming in through my window. My thoughts went back to last night. I had met One Direction. I had Harry’s number programmed in my phone. How lucky could a girl get?

With a smile I got up and showered. Absentmindedly I started singing Little Black Dress, doing it no justice, and blushing bright red at the thought of the way Harry looked at me in my dress.

I tugged on a pair of leggings and a red long-sleeved shirt after I dried my hair. I skipped down the stairs, taking a deep breath in. It smelt like my father’s pancakes; something I’d been missing.

“Good morning, butterfly,” my dad smiled at me as I walked into the kitchen.

“Morning, dad.”  I stole a blueberry from the bowl on the counter and grinned at him. When I was little I thought it was possible to turn into a butterfly. I was very determined. I was a butterfly every Halloween and throughout the year you could catch me with butterfly wings on, running around the backyard.

“Are you going into the studio today?” He asked, placing a plate of pancakes on the round table against the far wall of the kitchen. Every Saturday, whether back home or in London, I went into the recording studio whether it was to write or to record. At the moment I was working on my mother’s birthday gift. She had given me a list of songs she wanted me to sing and I was to put them onto an album.

“Yeah, I’m working on mom’s birthday CD.” I said.

Just then Noah came charging down the stairs, claiming his seat at the table. He began to pile pancakes on his plate and pour orange juice into his glass.

“Hey, wait for the rest of us to sit down.” My dad swatted him on the back of the head, making Noah choke on the berries in his mouth. I sat down next to my brother and followed his example of putting food on my plate.

“So what are everyone’s plans for today?” My mother asked through mouthfuls of food.

“Recording.” I said.

“Band practice.” Noah muttered.

“Sleep.” My dad swallowed.

“And work.” My mom finished.

I slowly walked down the busy street towards the recording studio. I had my brown leather bag slung over my shoulder with my computer, sheet music and such inside. I continued down a street filled with little booths with people selling food, knickknacks and jewelry. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw Harry Styles leaning over a little booth, seemingly in a deep conversation with the owner. ‘Psychic’ was written in neon letters on top of the booth. I frowned. What was he doing at a psychic?

I hid behind one of the booths fairly close to the one Harry was at. I was never one to eavesdrop. I respected other people’s privacy. But curiosity was getting the best of me.

“Are you sure it’s her?” The woman asked.

“How could I not be sure? I feel the connection. Not to mention she would have turned last night had I not fed her my blood.” I wrinkled my nose, not understanding what Harry could be talking about. He fed someone his blood?