The Styles Mansion [h.s]

fifty-one

HE LEFT, leaving me alone on the bed. The scent of his woody cologne was still lingering in the chilly air, being in the role of reminder that a scene has been created by a psycho husband and a broken wife in this room. It was left from me all along. I was already walking on thin ice, cursing my luck and fate but they say when you are in deep shit, you make mistakes despite being careful. And that's what's happening now.

I am making mistakes when I have to be careful.

And one of them is calling Styles fucked up from the roots in front of a Styles and he is a total psycho who would put American Psycho on shame.

I stared at the door, which was slammed shut by my husband's anticipation of anger. My dress was hanging out from my body exposing me starkly, as the hairs of my skin was steeped through the memories of his words and the coldness of the night.

I'm going to show you how fucked up the Styles are and they can be.

I know I am doomed. I know I was doomed the moment my stupidity got me at my best. Being brave is good and defending yourself is better but when your hands are tied up with gyves and you are already on your knees, breathing under someone's mercy then you can't do anything.

If you try to be a smart ass then that won't be good or better nor best.

That would be worse.

And that's what happened.

The night has elapsed, awfully so quickly, when I was praying for this night not to end but it's not like nature is going to be my bestie now, turning me into some Disney heroine who has special power to talk with nature or set a meeting about weather.

I quickly took a shower and dressed up. When I was putting on a light amount of make up on my face, I realized how prominent my bruises were on my neck. The steamy scenes of last night were driving me insane. Every time I convince myself not to give up on my sentiments, every time I fail. And it's all because of my husband.

I am a submission to his touch. I can't deny the invisible power of his electronic field around me.

The mantra that I was repeating in my head was, not to get encountered by Harry. I know I have crossed limits and I am also aware of the fact that something really wicked is waiting for me.

Harry wasn't joking for sure.

I climbed down the stairs, with a hammering heart inside my chest as my hands were fiddling with each one. The fear of getting in a trap which might be enacted by Harry was draining all blood. Silently I walked towards the breakfast table but my heart dropped when I saw no one was there.

Henson

Neona

Harry.

No one was presented there.

I stared at the empty table, running a long line of theory, what might happen that no one is here for breakfast. I sighed softly, getting pleased inside a little bit cause I don't have to face Harry but still a small place in my heart was aching. For what?

Don't laugh.

For Harry.

Yes, you might call me a freak now but the truth is my heart always aches to see him, just to get a small glimpse of his beautiful face and smile. Only me and my broken heart knows how much I was dying to see him when he was lying on the hospital bed.