Savior

The Boy and the Text

"Did you miss me, Scarlett?"

Its Harry's gentle hands and soft kisses that wake me in the morning, but even his sweet ministrations cannot wash away the evil that haunted my dreams, cannot clear the echo of those words from my head.

I collapse into his arms, somehow drained even though I had just been asleep, my mind exhausted by the torments of my slumber.

I shake and I sweat and I cry into his arms as the images that played behind my eyelids start again in fast-forward like some kind of terrible horror film. Harry's screams reverberate through my ears, Louis' crooked and pleased smile hides behind my eyes, and the blood –so much blood- stains my vision red.

They've been getting progressively worse ever since I went to my flat to get some flour only to find that damned toad back on the mantle with a threatening note from Louis.

A card that Harry demanded we take to the police, but after our last experience with the cops and the threat of what Louis would do if we did report him... Well, it was simply out of the question.

Despite my initial panic, I have been relatively numb since finding the toad. The fear is still there, though it doesn't put me in a state of panic anymore. I go about my day like any other normal day, though I do still glance over my shoulder and listen for footsteps behind me, but it's all just a waiting game.

Louis will show his face, it's only a matter of time.

I've accepted that now, I've come to peace with it.

Or so I thought, but my subconscious obviously disagrees.

Even though the nightmares get worse every night and vary in their cruelty, they all have the same basic storyline.

The same ending.

I'm running towards a screaming Harry –I can't see him, but I can hear him- though, I never get close no matter how fast I run. Then I slip on something –blood. It's always blood and always a lot of it, too much. And there, on the ground, is Harry's body. His face is turning blue and his eyes are fluttering and he is slipping away slowly.

Fading right before my eyes.

I scream and shout and cry as I try to stop the bleeding, but it's always coming from a different source; his head, his heart, his stomach –and, once, the most horrifying- his neck.

But, it doesn't matter what I do. I'm always too late.

His breathing slows and I am helpless as I watch him die in my arms. Then Louis suddenly steps into the pool of blood, grinning happily as he looks at what he's done.

And if Harry hasn't stirred me from my dream by now, Louis will look at me and ask me that one question that sends my heart into shock, "Did you miss me, Scarlett?"

Today, Harry hadn't woken me up in time.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

His voice is as gentle as his hands as they brush back my hair, but I shake my head as I always do, the dream much too horrifying to recount.

A part of me doesn't want him to know that I kill him of in all my dreams like some kind of psychopath, but another part thinks that by actually saying it out loud, the dream will somehow come true.

That just putting the thought into the universe will solidify it, make it more real.

It's ridiculous, but I don't want to take any chances.

He sighs, kissing the top of my head as my body slowly stops shivering, my heart-rate calms, and I shove the events of my nightmare to the back of my mind.